Could he know anything? Had he been present and seen the meeting?
No, that was impossible. He had been at home all the morning. She had made enquiry of Jenner as she came in, so as to satisfy herself.
Yet there was a strange suspicion in his manner, she thought. It may have been her fancy, nevertheless he seemed unduly curious, and that question of his had set her wondering.
For some moments she ate her dessert in silence.
Before her arose all the horror of that amazing meeting. The words of the criminal who was her husband rang in her ears, cruel, brutal, and relentless. He had threatened to call there at the villa, and hand her letter to Bracondale, a threat which, she knew, he would carry out if she did not appease him and bow to his will.
She was to exchange those pearls, Bracondale"s valued gift, for the silence of a blackmailer and a.s.sa.s.sin! Ah! the very thought of it drove her to desperation. Yet she was about to do it for Bracondale"s sake; for the sake of little Enid, whom she so dearly loved.
Every word the brute had uttered had burned into her brain. Her temples throbbed as though her skull must burst. But she fought against the evil and against a collapse. She put on a brave front, and when Bracondale addressed her she laughed lightly as though she had not a single care in all the world.
The meal over, she took a scarlet carnation from the silver epergne between them, broke the stem and, bending, placed it in the lapel of his coat, receiving as reward a fond, sweet kiss, old Jenner having finally left the room.
"Now go and rest, dearest," his lordship said. "I have a few letters I will write before I go out."
And he was about to cross to the door when it suddenly opened, and little Enid in her white muslin dress danced into the room, rushing up to her mother"s outstretched arms.
Bracondale caught the child and, taking her up, kissed her fondly.
Then, when he set her down again, she rushed to Jean, and in her childish voice asked:
"Mother, I was so afraid this morning when I saw you talking to that nasty man!"
"Nasty man!" echoed Jean, her heart standing still.
"Yes, mother. I ran across from Miss Oliver and was coming to you, but when I got round the rock I saw--oh, I saw a nasty man raising his hands, and talking. And you were so frightened--and so was I. So I ran back again. He was a nasty, bad man."
For a second a dead silence fell.
Then Jean, with a supreme effort, collected her thoughts and exercised all her self-control.
"What was that, Jean?" inquired Bracondale quickly.
"Oh, nothing. A man came along begging--rather a well-dressed man he seemed to be. And because I refused to give him anything he commenced to abuse me. But I soon sent him away."
"The child says you were afraid."
"Afraid!" she laughed, with a strange, hysterical little laugh. "If I had been I should have called for help. He was only some loafer or other who, finding me alone, thought he could get a franc, I suppose." And then, after a pause, she added, "I had a similar experience one day last year. The police really ought to keep the sands clear of such persons."
"What was he like? I"ll tell the chief of police about it."
"Well, really, I didn"t take very much notice," she replied. "I was reading, and looking up suddenly found him standing before me. I had no idea that Enid saw him. He asked me for money in a very rough manner.
And naturally I declined, and told him that if he did not clear off I would shout for help. So--well, after a few more abusive words, he slunk away."
"He might have stolen your brooch," Bracondale remarked.
"He might, certainly," she said. "Not until after he had gone did I realise how helpless I had been."
"Yes, mother," exclaimed the little girl, "but you were frightened, weren"t you? I thought he was going to hit you, for you put up your hands, and he clenched his fists and put his face right into yours. Oh!
it did frighten me!"
"Didn"t you tell Miss Oliver?" asked her father.
"No; but I will. I went digging, and forgot all about it."
"If I were you, Enid, I shouldn"t tell Miss Oliver," her mother said, very quietly. "You were frightened for nothing. It was only a man who wanted money."
"But he was such a nasty man--he had a horrid face, and such big, big eyes!" declared the child, and then, turning, she danced away out of the room, leaving Bracondale facing Jean in silence.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE INTRUDER.
That afternoon Jean remained in her room in a fierce fever of anxiety, while Bracondale drove his car along the winding, shady road to Yvetot, and home by St. Valery-en-Caux, and the sea-road which commences at Fecamp.
Did he suspect? she wondered.
She could not help feeling mortified that the child should have made that unfortunate remark. She felt also that her excuse was a lame one.
Did he really believe her story?
From the steel safe in her daintily-furnished room, with its silken upholstery in old rose, she took the big, square, velvet-lined case, and, opening it, gazed upon the string of splendid pearls. She took them out tenderly and, standing before the long cheval-gla.s.s, put them round her neck--for the last time.
As she examined herself in the mirror she sighed, her face hard, pale, and full of anxiety and distress.
Would Bracondale notice the change in her?
She put away the pearls, and, replacing the case in the safe, locked it.
Bates, her rather sour-faced maid, entered at the moment. She was a thin, angular person, very neat and prim, an excellent hairdresser, and a model of what a first-cla.s.s maid should be.
"Why, you don"t look well this afternoon, madam," she said, glancing at her inquiringly.
"No, Bates. It"s the heat, I think. Will you bring me my smelling-salts?" she asked, as she sank into an arm-chair, a pretty figure in her pale-blue silk dressing-gown.
The maid brought the large, silver-topped bottle across from the dressing-table and handed it to her mistress, who, after sniffing it, dismissed her.
Then Jean sat for a full half-hour staring straight before her, looking down the long vista of her own tragic past.
At midnight that letter would be safe in her hand. She consoled herself with the thought that, by acceding to Ansell"s demand, as she had done, she would rid herself of him for ever.
Her honour would be preserved, and Bracondale would never know. For the sake of her child, how could she confess to him?
He joined her in the _pet.i.t salon_, where she gave him tea, and then, till dinner, he retired into the study to complete the despatches for which Martin was to call and take to Downing Street.