OCR Text |
Show PRINCESS MARYS GIFT 92 'l‘IIE EBONY zox BUUK I went to the door. and standing so that I could still keep an eye upon the room. I called the corporal, . _ p 1 . "You will search the house thoroughly,‘ I said. "and quickly. Bring me word how many people you find in it. You. mademoiselle. will remain in the room with us." _ She shrugged her shoulders as I closed the door and came back into the room. " You were wounded, monsieur," I said to the I‘ll‘cncllluun. " \thre ? " u " In the sortie on Le Bourget "And you eaine here the moment you were released on your parole i " . . , The wounded oiliecr turned with a smile to Mademoiselle Sophie. "Yes. for here live my best friends." _ ‘ He took her hand. and with a li'renclnnan's grace he raised it to his lips and kissed it. And I was suddenly made acquainted with the relationship in which these two. youth and maid, stood to one another. Mademoiselle Sophie had cried out on the steps against the possibility that I might have come to claim my prisoner. lint though she spoke no word, she was still more explicit now. kkuuu \Vith the otlicer that caress was plainly no more than a pretty way of saying thanks ; It had the look of a habit, it was so neatly given, and he gave 1t "‘V‘" without carelessness, it is true. but without warmth. But she received it very differently. He did not see, because his head . ~ .v.\ l \‘ gvxp was bent above her hand, but I did. I saw the look of pain in her face, the slight contraction of her shoulders and arms, as if to meet a blow. The kiss hurt \\ ~ v, ,. \\\\\\~/~§: 1.\ : herAno, not the kiss, but the finished grace with which it "TN given, the proof, in a word. that it was a way of saying "Thanks " -and nothing more. Here was a woman who loved and a man who did not love, and the woman knew. I resumed my questions: " Your doctor, nlonsieur, is in the house ? " "' At this hour? No." " Ah. That is a pity." . The young man lifted his head from his pillow and looked me ovel‘ from head to foot with a stare of disdain. " I do not quite understand. You doubt my word, monsieur l 'l " \Yliy not ? i; I asked sharply. . It was quite possible that the cradle, this rug across his 163* "if" pillow, were all pretenecs. This young ollicer might very well have 93 broughtin a cipher message to the Chateau Villetaneuse. Mademoiselle Sophie might very well have waved her lantern at the door to summon a fresh messenger. " No; why should I not doubt your word 2' ‘l I repeated. [[0 turned his face to the old lady. " It is your move. lIaronne," he said, and she placed the piece she held upon a square of the board. Mademoiselle Sophie took her stand by the table between the players, and the game went on just as though there were no intruder iii the room. It was uncomfortable for me. I shifted my feet. I tried to appear at my case ; finally I sat down in a chair. They took no notice of me whatever. I was very glad when at last the corporal opened the door. He had searched the houseihc had found no one but Madame de Villetaneuse and an old servant who was watching by her bed. " Very well," said I, and the corporal returned to the hall. Mademoiselle Sophie moved away from the chess-table. She came and stood opposite to me, and though her face was still, her eyes were hard with anger. " And now perhaps you will tell me to what I owe your visit?" she said. "' Certainly." I returned. I fixed my eyes on her. and I said slowly. "' I have come to ask for more news of M. Bonnet's black cat." Mademoiselle Sophie stared as if she was not sure whether I was \ mad or drunk, but was very sure I was one or the other. The young Frenchman started upon his couch, with the veins swelling upon his forehead and a flushed face. " This is an insult," he cried savagely, and no less savagely I answered him. " Hold your tongue l" I cried. " You forget too often that though you are on parole you are still a prisoner." He fell back upon the sofa with a groan of pain.and the girl hurried to his side. Meanwhile I had been looking about the room for a box or a case where the cipher messages might be hid. I saw nothing of the kind. Of course they might be hidden between the pages of a book. I went from table to table, taking them by the boards and shaking the leaves. Not a scrap of paper tumbled out. There was another door in the room besides that which led on to the landing. "' Mademoiselle. what room is that t I asked. . ")Iy bedroom," she answered simply. and with a gesture full of dignity she threw open the door. . I carried the mud and snow and the grime of a camp without a s lillllll Nlllkyh\\ |