"I happen to know Luxembourg very well. My brother, strangely enough, is one of the Prince"s tenants."
"Oh, then, you of course know my future home," exclaimed Liane, suddenly interested.
"Yes, very well. The chateau is a fine old place perched high up, overlooking a beautiful fertile valley," her hostess replied. "I once went there a few years ago, when the old Prince was alive, and I well remember being charmed by the romantic quaintness of its interior.
Inside, one is back three centuries; with oak panelling, old oak furniture, great old-fashioned fireplaces with cosy corners, and narrow windows, through which long ago archers shed their flights of arrows.
There is a dungeon, too; and a dark gloomy prison-chamber in one of the round turrets. It is altogether a most delightful old place."
"Gloomy, I suppose?" observed Liane thoughtfully.
"Well, life amid such old-world surroundings as those could scarcely be quite as bright or enjoyable as Nice or Paris, but it is nevertheless a magnificent and well-preserved relic of a bygone age. Without doubt it is one of the finest of feudal chateaux in Europe."
"Are any of the rooms modern?"
"None," Madame replied. "It seems to have been the hobby of the Princes d"Auzac to preserve intact its ancient character. You will be envied as the possessor of such a fine old place. I shall be delighted to come and see you when you are settled--if I may."
"Certainly. I, too, shall be delighted," Liane answered mechanically.
"In a place like that one will require a constant supply of visitors to make life at all endurable. It is, I fear, one of those grey, forbidding-looking old places as full of rats as it is of traditions."
"I don"t know about the rats," her hostess answered, laughing heartily.
"But there are, I know, many quaint and curious legends connected with the place. My brother told me some."
"What were they about?"
"Oh, about the tyranny of the d"Auzacs who, in the middle ages, ravaged the Eiffel and the Moselle valley, and more than once attacked the town of Treves itself. In those days the name of d"Auzac was synonymous of all that was cruel and brutal; but the family have become civilised since then, and," she added, looking towards Zertho, who was laughing with her two daughters, "the Prince scarcely looks a person to be feared."
"No," observed Liane, with a forced smile. To her also the name of d"Auzac was synonymous of cunning, brutality, and unscrupulousness. She pictured to herself the great mountain stronghold, a grim, grey relic of an age of barbarism, the lonely dreary place peopled by ghosts of an historic past, that was to be her home, in which she was to live with this man who held her enthralled. Then she shuddered.
Her hostess noticed it, wondered, but attributed it to the draught from the open window. To her it was inconceivable that any girl could refuse Prince Zertho"s offer of marriage. He was one of the most eligible of men, his polished manner had made him a favourite everywhere, and one heard his wealth discussed wherever one visited. Either of her own daughters would, she knew, be only too pleased to become Princess.
Liane, although nothing of a coquette, was nevertheless well enough versed in the ways of the world to be tactful when occasion required, and at this moment strenuously strove not to betray her world-weariness.
Although consumed by grief and despair she nevertheless smiled with feigned contentment, and a moment later with an air so gay and flippant that none would guess the terrible dread which was wearing out her young life, joined in the light amusing chatter with Madame"s daughters.
"We saw you at Monte Carlo last night," one of the girls exclaimed, suddenly, addressing Zertho.
"Did you?" he answered, with a start. "I really saw nothing of you."
"We were quite close to you," observed her sister, "You were sitting with Captain Brooker, and were having quite a run of good fortune when, suddenly, you both jumped up and disappeared like magic. We tried to attract your attention, but you would not glance in our direction.
Before we could get round to you you had gone. Why did you leave so quickly?"
"We wanted to catch our train," Zertho answered, a lie ever ready upon his lips. "We had only three minutes, and just managed to scramble in."
"Did you notice a fine, handsome-looking woman at the table, a woman in blue dress trimmed with silver?" asked Madame Bertholet.
Zertho again started. In a second, however, he recovered his self-possession.
"I am afraid I did not," he replied with a smile.
"I was too intent upon the game. Besides," and he paused, glancing at Liane, "female beauty ought not to attract me now."
They all laughed in chorus.
"Of course not," Madame agreed. "But the woman wore such a gay costume, and was altogether so reckless that I thought you might have noticed her. Everybody was looking at her. I was told that she is a well-known gambler who has won huge sums at various times, and is invariably so lucky that she is known to habitues of the table as `The Golden Hand.""
"Everything her hand touches turns to gold--eh?" Zertho hazarded. "I only wish my fingers possessed the same potency. It must be delightful."
"But she"s not at all a desirable acquaintance, if all I hear is true,"
Madame observed. "Do you know nothing of her by repute?"
"I fancy I"ve heard the sobriquet before," he replied. "I"m sorry I didn"t notice her. Did she win?"
Liane and the Prince exchanged significant glances. "Yes, while we watched she won, at a rough estimate, nearly twenty thousand francs,"
one of the girls said.
"A friend who accompanied us told us all about her," Madame observed.
"Hers has been a most remarkable career. It appears that at one time she was well-known in Paris as a singer at La Scala, and the music halls in the Champs Elysees, but some mysterious circ.u.mstance caused her to leave Paris hurriedly. She was next heard of in New York, where she was singing at the music halls, and it was said that she returned to France at the country"s expense, but that, on being brought before the tribunal, the charge against her could not be substantiated, and she was therefore released. Subsequently, after a strange and chequered life, she turned up about four years ago at Monte Carlo, and became so successful that very soon she had ama.s.sed a considerable sum of money.
To the attendants and those who frequent the Casino she is a mystery.
For sheer recklessness no woman who comes to the tables has her equal; yet she is invariably alone, plays at her own discretion without consulting anyone, and with a thoroughly business-like air, speaks to scarcely anybody, and always rises from the table at eleven, whether winning or losing. Indeed, `The Golden Hand" is altogether a most remarkable person."
"Curious," observed Zertho, reflectively. "I wish I had noticed her.
You say she was sitting at our table?"
"Yes," answered one of the girls. "She sat straight before you, and because you were winning she watched you closely several times."
"Watched me!" he exclaimed, dismayed.
"Yes," answered the girl, with a laugh. "Why, you speak as if she possessed the evil eye, or something! She"s smart and good-looking certainly, but I don"t think Liane need fear in her a rival."
"Scarcely," he answered, with a forced smile. But the alarming truth possessed him that Mariette had surrept.i.tiously watched Brooker and himself before they had discovered her presence. He reproached himself bitterly for having gone to Monte Carlo that night, yet gambler that he was he had been unable to resist the temptation of the tables once again ere they left the Riviera.
But the woman known as "The Golden Hand" had watched them both, and by this time most probably knew where they were living. Neither he nor the Captain had any idea that Mariette Lepage still hovered about the tables, or they would certainly never have set foot inside the Princ.i.p.ality.
Liane in her cool summer-like gown sat in a low wicker lounge-chair and listened to this description of the notorious woman without uttering a word. She dared not trust herself to speak lest she should divulge the secret within her breast. She had grown uncomfortable, and only breathed more freely when, ten minutes later, they made their adieux and began to descend the Boulevard back to Nice.
"So your old friend Mariette has seen you!" she exclaimed, as soon as they had walked twenty paces from the house.
"Yes," he snapped. "Another ill.u.s.tration of my accursed luck. The sooner we leave Nice the better."
"Very well," she answered, with a weary sigh. She did not tell him that she had already ascertained from George Stratfield that "The Golden Hand" had been to Nice.
"We must leave for Paris," he said briefly. "It will not be wise to run too great a risk. If she chooses she can make things extremely unpleasant."
"For you?"
"No," he answered, turning quickly towards her. "For you."
She held her breath; the colour fled from her cheeks. He lost no opportunity of reminding her of the terrible past, and as he glanced at her and watched the effect of his words he saw with satisfaction that he still held her in a thraldom of fear.
"I thought she had left France," he continued, as if to himself. "I had no idea that she was still here. Fortune must have been kind to her of late."