They had now reached the entrance of the Hotel Royal, and together they entered. Raife cast an eager glance around. To his great relief, Lady Remington, for it was late, had retired to rest.
Gilda whispered: "Let"s go up the staircase. There"s a quiet alcove there, and my uncle has gone to his room."
In the brilliantly-lit foyer of the hotel an orchestra was discoursing music to a crowd of visitors, who lounged or promenaded at their sweet will. Many eyes were turned to the handsome couple as they ascended the richly-carpeted staircase in search of that quiet alcove which promised much to Raife, and perhaps some pleasure to the mysterious young girl who accompanied him.
The south of Europe belongs, in a sense, to no country. It is cosmopolitan. There is a charm in the pleasure-land of Cosmopolis, for it discourages speculation as to the lineage of your neighbour. One handsome couple merges into another, and the shrewdest guesses as to nationality are liable to be miscalculated. Therefore the glances that were directed towards Raife and Gilda were less inquisitive than they were of admiration. At the top of the staircase Raife a.s.sisted in the removal of the long cloak which had effectively hidden the dainty figure underneath. Hat and veil being also laid aside, Gilda"s beauty revealed itself and dazzled the young man, further enmeshing him in the net of her mysterious charm.
She had, to a large extent, prevented a flow of conversation by extracting his promise after those appealing requests: "Please don"t ask me questions. Just trust me. Will you be my friend?"
The aromatic fumes of oriental tobaccos, blending with the scents of rare exotic blossoms, and the variety of perfumes, with which women a.s.sociate themselves, rose in a seductive, almost vaporous column to the broad landing which overlooked the throng in the foyer below.
Raife Remington and Gilda Tempest had risen from their seat in the alcove, and leant over the marble bal.u.s.trade. Each gazed on this scene of artificial gaiety with mixed emotions. For some minutes, neither spoke. The languorous tones of violin and "cello in subdued concert, died away. The orchestra rose from their seats, to rest after the ordeal of the prolonged musical medley of alternated rhapsody, tango, and serenade. The movement became general, and the hum of conversation in a babel of talk swelled upwards.
At last Gilda spoke.
"I must go now. Tell me again that you have forgiven me, and that you trust me."
"Gilda, I tell you again that I trust you. If you are in trouble, send for me, and I will endeavour to help you."
"Good-night, Raife!" and she started up the next flight of stairs.
Half-way up she stopped, and looking round, beckoned him. When he approached she whispered: "What is the number of your room? One never knows in these foreign hotels. I might need you."
"My number is 26," he said. Again they parted, he wondering what she meant by placing so sudden a confidence in him.
As he descended to the foyer for a final smoke, and that refreshment we have christened a "nightcap," he glanced upstairs again hoping to gain a final glimpse of his beloved. Instead, he saw--or was it fancy?--a tall figure looking down on him with a sardonic smile. For a moment only the sense of mistrust pervaded him. Then with an impatient gesture he muttered: "What"s the matter with you, Raife Remington? You"re all nerves to-night. It"s time you had that whisky and soda."
CHAPTER EIGHT.
THE DOCTOR"S DOUBLE PERSONALITY.
Raife Remington finished his cigar and returned rather lazily to his room, thinking all the while of the vision of loveliness that had so entranced him--his mind--his soul--his very being.
The little Yale key opened his door, and the lock yielded gracefully to its turn.
Even on the Riviera, the wide expanse of beautiful country which begins on the northern sh.o.r.e of the Mediterranean Sea and extends northwards somewhere towards the Alps--there are Yale keys.
Yale keys may come from anywhere. They do not all arrive from the United States, the land of their invention. Wherever they are found, or wherever they may come from, they serve a useful purpose. They are small and flat, and it is possible to get more Yale keys into a given s.p.a.ce on a ring, than any other keys with a reputation for security.
The other keys that Raife Remington carried were not of this nature.
The key of the white room at the old "Blue Boar," in Tunbridge Wells was much more ponderous. Those of Aldborough Park were invented before the days of Yale and Harvard. The locksmiths who forged and hammered the keys of Aldborough preceded the foundation of American universities.
They were c.u.mbersome, and they lay heavily in the pockets of the light suit of clothes which is customary on a spring night at Nice. Raife also sat heavily in the chair, which faced the fire in his room in the Hotel Royal, after his last cigar and "nightcap" below.
He dreamt of the events which had crowded a long day. His mind was obsessed. A thousand recollections of mysterious occurrences attacked him from without and within. The sleep, which is a half-sleep, bordering on a doze, gave him no rest. He awoke from this state of semi-somnolence. There was a tap--a very distinct tap or rap at the door. Half-clad, and yawning, he rose from his chair and opened the door. A neatly-clad chambermaid stood without, and with an accent which is charming to us of the North, said: "Sir Raife, Miss Tempest send me to you. She say, she lose her keys. Perhaps, Sir Raife, your keys will open her valise. Will you, Sir Raife, lend your keys for the occasion?"
Most young men are human, and the obvious is natural to humanity. Raife promptly replied to this neatly-clad, soft-voiced young woman: "Yes. To be sure. Tell Miss Tempest I am sorry if she has suffered any inconvenience from her loss. If any of my keys will open her valise, I am glad to have been of service."
The maid retired. Sir Raife lazily went to bed, now to sleep, for a short while, that tired sleep that comes to youth which is only in love, and has no greater anxiety than a torn heart recently healed.
The maid returned to Gilda"s room and handed the bunch of keys to her, saying: "The Signor send you his keys with ze great pleasure-- Signorina."
The Southern man and matron smile so often that one cannot always separate the smiles and decide which is cynical, and which is gracious or friendly. The maid retired, smiling.
Gilda took the keys and gazed at them.
Then, with a fondling grasp, she handled them--murmuring the while: "These are Raife"s keys--the keys of Aldborough Park."
Gazing into s.p.a.ce, with a glazed expression, she sank upon the lounge at the foot of her bed and gasped: "Why must I do these hateful things!"
A soft knock at the door awakened her from the lapse which had ended in this momentary display of despair. Gilda went to the door expecting that the maid had returned for some trivial purpose. Hastily placing the keys in one of those hidden places which women secrete among their clothing, she opened the door, saying, "Yes. What is it?" The maid was not there.
At this hour, which was early, very early, for the Hotel Royal at Nice, there stood a lugubrious figure. Tall, crumpled, yet retaining a somewhat dignified demeanour, Doctor Malsano stood there at his worst.
In a stifled, sepulchral voice he demanded: "Have you got them--the keys?"
The frightened girl, with a devilment which belongs to all who may hold a whip-hand for a moment, lost her temporary sense of dismay and answered boldly: "What do you want?"
He hissed the words at her. "Have you got the keys? The keys, I tell you. Have you got them?"
That moment of bravery left Gilda almost as quickly as she had become possessed of it. The swivel eye, and the rest of that remarkable countenance and personality, in spite of his dishevelled and distorted appearance, regained the mastery.
Gilda collapsed and weakly replied: "The keys! Yes, I have the keys!"
The doctor entered and Gilda handed them to him. Those keys of Aldborough Park, obtained by subterfuge from Raife--! With a snarl the doctor s.n.a.t.c.hed them and left the room. When Gilda Tempest slept a calm sleep, without which beauty will not last, Raife Remington tossed and turned on his bed of unrest. The excitement of the renewed meeting with Gilda had, to an extent, subsided, and in the feverish hours that followed, his mind coursed through all the dramatic events of the last few months. His sense of reason strove hard to rescue him from a mad pa.s.sion--a pa.s.sion that every worldly instinct told him would lead to ruin--worse than ruin--death. Yes! death. An inglorious, profitless death.
Doctor Danilo Malsano sat in his room at the Hotel Royal. A small phial was on the table that faced him. He picked it up and swallowed the contents. His convulsed face presently resumed a more normal, a more peaceful expression. It was a soothing drug that he had taken--one to which he was well accustomed. The soft rays of the red-shaded electric lamp suffused the room, the oval mirror on the dressing-table reflected a saturnine, yet smiling countenance.
The doctor spoke in a whisper to himself, each short sentence was succeeded by a chortle, a subdued chuckle. "The arm of coincidence is long! The cursed Anglo-Saxon is proud--very proud, but he is a very simple fool. One of them is dead. It may be this young fool"s turn next. Gilda loves him, too. That is a pity. Yet it must be."
These soft-spoken reflections, with the drug, seemed to pacify the perturbed mind of this extraordinary man, and he appeared to doze for a while. Presently he sprang to his feet and his frame displayed surprising activity. Taking Raife"s keys in one hand, he opened a valise, from which it was evident that he had travelled much. Yet the labels of hotels, cities, and townships had been so cleverly manipulated, that they were hard to decipher. Opening the valise, he produced some wax, on which, with the dexterity of a practised hand, he took the impressions of the keys of Aldborough Park.
It was late when the doctor had completed his task. The first grey streaks of dawn crept through the long curtained windows, as he stealthily opened the door of his room. Surveying the silent corridor with care, he stole stealthily to Gilda"s room and tapped gently. The frightened girl, accustomed to the strange demands of her uncanny uncle, replied with surprising prompt.i.tude.
He hastily thrust Raife"s keys into her hand, muttering: "Give these back to the young fool, and see to it you don"t lose your head. I will meet you in the coffee-room at ten o"clock, and you can introduce him to me."
At ten o"clock on the morning following these occurrences which appeared of such evil portent, Gilda Tempest, daintily clad in a light gown of soft material in which chiffon seemed to predominate, walked into the coffee-room of the hotel and took her seat at a table, laid for three, next to a window which commanded a view of the Promenade des Anglais.
The doctor had planned the arrangement of this table with that prescience which characterised all his movements. She had not been seated many minutes, and was sipping some coffee--the coffee that, in spite of modern facilities, seems to be only obtainable on the continent of Europe, when Sir Raife Remington entered the room. He crossed to the table at which Gilda was seated and greeted her.
To his pleasure and astonishment she said, heartily: "Good morning. Sir Raife. Won"t you take a seat at our table? I expect my uncle, presently, and he will be very pleased to see you. First of all, let me thank you for the loan of your keys. It was so distressing, I could not find my keys anywhere, and, in desperation, I thought of your kind offer to help me if I needed it."
Raife laughed heartily, and, taking a seat opposite to her, said: "Please don"t thank me for a small thing like that. I meant, more especially, I would like to help you in something big, as the Americans would say--something real large, should the occasion arise."
Gilda appeared positively radiant on this bright, sunny morning, and her soft, pleasing voice thrilled him as she said: "Did you get the keys back? I sent them to your room by the chambermaid, and, do you know, one of them just fitted the little trunk I wanted to open. It contained this gown I"m wearing, and I"ve put it on in recognition of your kindness to me in my distress."
Again he laughed, saying: "Oh, yes, I got the keys all right!"
Then, with a strange, strained tone in her voice, she said: "Here comes my uncle."
Wherever Doctor Danilo Malsano entered people turned to look. His striking personality was of such a nature that it seemed more than ever strange that he could move about so easily, un.o.bserved, when he was carrying out his nefarious schemes.