He saw the light in her face, and his voice was hoa.r.s.e with pa.s.sion.
"Come," he cried, "or I must fetch you! Louise! Sweetheart!"
She came towards him a little timidly, her eyebrows arched, a divine smile playing about her lips. She stood at the entrance to the laurel grove and peered a little forward.
"Where are you?" she asked. "Is it really you? I think that I am a little afraid! Oh!"
He took her into his arms with a little laugh of happiness. Time and life itself stood still. Her feeble remonstrances were swept away in the tide of his pa.s.sion. His lips hung burning against hers.
"My sweetheart!" he murmured. "Thank G.o.d you came!"...
She disengaged herself presently. A clock from the stables was striking.
She counted the hours.
"Eleven o"clock!" she exclaimed. "Herbert, how long have I been here?"
"Don"t ask me that," he answered. "Only tell me how long you are going to stay."
"Not another minute, really," she declared. "They will be sending out search parties for me directly. And--Herbert--how did you get here?" she demanded anxiously.
"I climbed over the wall," he answered cheerfully. "There didn"t seem to be any other way."
She seemed almost incredulous.
"Didn"t you see any watchmen?" she asked.
"There was one at the gates," he answered. "I fancied he followed me up the road, but I gave him the slip all right."
"Be careful how you go back," she begged. "This place is supposed to be closely watched."
"Watched! Why?" he asked. "Are you afraid of robbers?"
"How much did the Baroness tell you?" she asked.
"Nothing, except that I should find you here," he declared. "She made me promise that I would wait for an opportunity of seeing you alone."
"And why," she asked, "have you come?"
He took her into his arms again.
"I have learnt what love is," he murmured, "and I have forgotten the other things."
"That is all very well," she laughed, smoothing out her hair; "but the other things may be very important to me."
"A man named Stephen Heneage has taken up this Barnes affair," he answered. "He saw you leave the flats that night, and he is likely, if he thinks that it might lead to anything, to give the whole show away. He warned me to get away from England and--but you want the truth, don"t you? All these are excuses! I came because I wanted you!--because I couldn"t live without you, Louise! Couldn"t we steal away somewhere and never go back? Why need we? We could go to Paris to-morrow, catch the Orient express the next day--I know a dozen hiding-places where we should be safe enough. We will make our own world and our own life--and forget!"
"Forget!" She drew a little away from him. Her tone chilled him.
"Herbert," she said, "whatever happens, I must go now--this moment. Where are you stopping?"
"The _Lion d"Or_," he answered, "down in the village."
"I will send a note in the morning," she said eagerly. "Only you must go now, dear. Some one will be out to look for me, and I cannot think--I must have a little time to decide. Be very careful as you go back. If you are stopped, be sure and make them understand that you are an Englishman.
Good night!"
He kissed her pa.s.sionately. She yielded to his embrace, but almost immediately drew herself away. He clutched at her hand, but she eluded him. With swift footsteps she crossed the lawn. Just as she reached the terrace, the windows opened once more and some one called her name.
"I am coming in now," he heard her answer. "It has been such a wonderful night!"
CHAPTER XXIV
AN INVITATION TO DINNER
The landlord of the _Lion d"Or,_ who had appeared for a moment to chat with his guests while they took their morning coffee, pointed downwards into the valley, where little clouds of mist hung over the lowlands.
"The _messieurs_ will find themselves hot to-day," he remarked. "Here, only, there will be a breeze. Eleven hundred feet up, and only three miles from the sea! It is wonderful, eh?"
Wrayson pointed across towards the chateau, whose towers rose from the bosom of the cool green woods.
"There, also," he said, "it will be very pleasant. The chateau is as high as we are, is it not so?"
The landlord shrugged his shoulders.
"There is little difference," he admitted, "and in the woods there is always shade. But who may go there? Never was an estate kept so zealously private, and, does monsieur know? Since yesterday a new order has been issued. The villagers were forbidden even their ancient rights of walking across the park! The head forester has posted a notice in the village."
"I have heard something of it," Wrayson admitted. "Has any reason been given. Are the family in residence there?"
The landlord shook his head.
"Madame la Baronne was never so exacting," he replied. "One hears that she has lent the chateau to friends. Two ladies are there, and one gentleman. It is all."
"Do you know who they are?" Wrayson asked.
The landlord a.s.sumed an air of mystery.
"One," he said, "is a young English lady. The other--well, they call her Madame de Melbain."
"What?"
The exclamation came like a pistol-shot from Wrayson"s fellow-guest at the inn, who, up to now, had taken no part in the conversation. He had turned suddenly round, and was facing the startled landlord.
"Madame de Melbain," he repeated. "Monsieur, perhaps, knows the lady?"
There was a moment"s silence. Then the man who had called himself Duncan looked away, frowning.