Part 8

Therefore I accepted Mrs. Cullerton's invitation, and found at the villa a number of pleasant, cosmopolitan people, whom I had already met at the French Consul's. I was introduced by my hostess to her husband, Jack, a smartly-dressed man, and a typical young member of the Stock Exchange. Afterwards I succeeded in having quite a long conversation with his wife.

Quite casually I mentioned the Villa Clementini, and its owner.

"Do you know him?" she asked with interest. "He is such a dear, generous old thing."

"I have met him once," I replied with affected unconcern. "They say he's a little eccentric--don't they?"

"His enemies say that," she replied, "but his friends are full of praise of him. He's the most charming and generous of men, and his great wealth allows him to perform all sorts of kind actions. They say that he can't refuse anybody who asks for his influence or help."

I reflected that his influence was certainly a baneful one.

"Ah! I see you are one of his friends, Mrs. Cullerton!" I said, laughing.

"Yes--I confess I am."

"Then would you be surprised if I told you in strictest confidence that he is not your friend, but one of your bitterest enemies!" I said, lowering my voice, and looking straight into her wide-open blue eyes.

"I don't understand you, Mr. Garfield!" she said, also lowering her voice.

"I will explain one day, Mrs. Cullerton--one day when we are alone."

"When?" she whispered, for Madame Rameil was approaching at the moment.

"Whenever you like to make an appointment," I replied. "Only I must first hold you to absolute secrecy."

"That's agreed," whispered the pretty young woman. "To-morrow. I will be here alone at three o'clock," and then she held out her hand, and aloud said:

"Good-bye, Mr. Garfield. So sorry you have to run away so early. Good-bye!"

CHAPTER THE NINTH

SOME PLAIN SPEAKING

Punctually at three o'clock next afternoon the buxom Italian maid in dainty apron, ushered me into Mrs. Cullerton's charming _salone_. From the long windows a magnificent view spread away across the green valley of the Ema to the great monastery of the Certosa, a huge mediæval pile which resembled a mediæval fortress standing boldly against the background of the rolling Apennines.

Scarcely had I stood there a moment when my blue-eyed young hostess, in a becoming black-and-cherry frock, entered, and greeting me, closed the door.

"Well, Mr. Garfield? It's really awfully good of you to trouble to come out to see me. I'm all excitement to know what you have to tell me about Mr. De Gex. He's gone yachting--as you perhaps know. Do sit down."

As I did so she passed me the cigarettes, and took one herself. Then, when I had held the match for her and had lit my own, I said:

"Well, Mrs. Cullerton, I really don't know how to commence. Somehow, I felt it my duty to come here to see you. I must admit that I have been manoeuvring for several days in order to get an introduction to you, and to obtain an opportunity of seeing you alone. And yet----"

"Yes. I quite see that. I thought by your attitude in the Via Tornabuoni that you seemed very anxious to know me," and her lips relaxed into a pretty smile.

"That is so. In order to--well, to warn you," I said very seriously.

"Warn me!--of what, pray?"

I hesitated. To be perfectly frank with her was, I saw, quite impossible. She might hear all I said and then inform De Gex. She was his friend. Or perhaps she would dismiss me and my story as pure invention. Hence I resolved to preserve my own secret concerning the Stretton Street Affair.

Looking straight into her face, I said:

"I'm here to warn you of a very grave personal danger."

"You are really most alarming, Mr. Garfield," she said in suspicion. "In what danger am I?"

"You are either in possession of some ugly fact concerning Mr. De Gex which he desires suppressed, or else you bar his way to some ambitious achievement."

Her face changed, and she held her breath. Though it was only for a second I saw that what I had suggested was the truth. Her slim white hand twitched nervously upon her lap.

"Some fact concerning Mr. De Gex!" she gasped in feigned surprise. "Who told you that!" she asked, her face blanching.

"I have not been told. But I know it, Mrs. Cullerton," was my reply. "I know that, though De Gex is assisting your husband out of a financial difficulty and pretends to be your good friend, he views you as his bitter enemy--as a person whose lips must, at all hazards, be closed."

"Really, Mr. Garfield, what you say is too extraordinary--too amazing! I don't understand you!"

"I know it sounds most extraordinary," I said. "But first tell me if you know a certain Doctor Moroni, who lives in the Via Cavezzo?"

"Certainly. The doctor attends Mr. De Gex and his family. I first met him in London, about a year ago. Mr. De Gex holds him in very high esteem."

"Ah! Then you know the doctor."

"Of course. When he was in London he several times came to our house in Fitzjohn's Avenue."

"And your husband knows him?" I asked, looking her straight in the face. "Please tell me the truth," I urged.

"No. Jack has never met him--not to my knowledge."

I was silent for a few seconds. I had established a fact which I had all along suspected.

"Then he called in the daytime, when your husband was in the City--eh?"

"Yes."

"Now tell me, did you ever have any strange illness after Doctor Moroni had called?" I inquired very seriously.

"Illness? Why, no! Why do you ask such a curious question?"

"I have reasons for asking it, Mrs. Cullerton," was my reply. "I have called here as your friend, remember."

"But all this is most bewildering," she exclaimed with a nervous little laugh. "Why should I be in any personal peril?"

"Because you know something to the detriment of that wealthy and somewhat eccentric man," I replied. "Pardon me if I put another question to you. Are you acquainted with a girl named Gabrielle Engledue?"

"Gabrielle Engledue?" she repeated. "No, I have never heard the name. I know a Gabrielle--Gabrielle Tennison--an old schoolfellow of mine."

"A tall, dark-haired girl?"

"Yes, she is rather tall, and dark-haired."

"Isn't her real name Engledue?" I asked quickly.

"Not to my knowledge."

"Is she not Mr. De Gex's niece?"

"He has no niece, has he?--except, of course, Lady Shalford, whom I know quite well."

"Where is Gabrielle Tennison?"

"In London--I believe."

"Are you certain she is not here, in Florence?"

"Mr. De Gex told me that she came to Florence for a few days----"

"To visit him--eh?"

"I suppose so. But she has returned to London."

"Do you know her address in London," I asked very anxiously. "I ask you this in our mutual interests, Mrs. Cullerton," I added confidentially.

"Yes. She lives with her mother in a maisonette in Longridge Road, Earl's Court, I forget the number, but you could easily find out."

"And she is there now, I presume?"

"I expect so--if what Mr. De Gex has told me is the truth."

"But will he ever tell you the truth?" I queried. "Recollect that although he poses as your husband's friend, he is nevertheless your enemy--because he fears you! Why is that?"

The pretty wife of the young London stockbroker hesitated. I saw that she was much perturbed by my question.

"I suppose he suspects that I know certain things," was her low, hard reply. "But he has been very good to Jack on several occasions. He has prevented him from being hammered on the Stock Exchange, therefore I can only be grateful to him."

I looked the pretty woman straight in the face, and said:

"Grateful! Grateful to a man whose dastardly intention is, when the whim takes him, to send you to your grave, Mrs. Cullerton?"

"I--I really don't know what you mean. Are you mad? Do be more explicit," she cried. "Why do you make these terrible allegations against Mr. De Gex?"

"Please recollect, Mrs. Cullerton, that I am here first in your interests, and secondly in my own. You and I are now both marked down as victims, because both of us are in possession of certain knowledge which would, if exposed, bring obloquy and prosecution upon an exceedingly wealthy man. Your husband, yourself, and myself, are merely pawns in the clever game which this man is playing--a mysterious game, I admit, and one in which he is actively assisted by Doctor Moroni--but also one in which, if we are not both very wary, we shall find ourselves the victims of fatal circumstances."

My words seemed to impress the stockbroker's wife, for she asked: "Well--what shall I do?"

"Be perfectly frank with me," I replied promptly. "Both of us have all to lose if we close our eyes to the conspiracy against us on the part of your friend De Gex and his shrewd and unscrupulous accomplice, Tito Moroni."

"Moroni is one of the most popular doctors in Florence," she remarked.

"I'm perfectly aware of that," was my reply. "But there is no more dangerous criminal than the medical man who is beneath the thumb of a millionaire. There have been several before the assizes in various cities of Europe. Many, thanks alas! to the power of gold, have never been unmasked. There have been cases in Hungary, in France, in Italy, and in Russia--even one case in England which is recorded in a big file at Scotland Yard. But in that case there was no prosecution because money means influence, and influence means the breaking of those in office who dare to oppose it."

"Then how do you suggest that I should act, Mr. Garfield?" asked young Mrs. Cullerton. "It is distressing news to me that Mr. De Gex is my enemy--and I confess that at present I can scarcely credit it."

I longed to unbosom myself to her--to tell her of all that had occurred to me since that fateful November night when I had passed through Stretton Street, but I was not yet fully confident concerning her attitude towards me. It might be hostile. She might seek De Gex when he returned from Algiers and tell him of our interview! If she did, then all hope of elucidating the mystery of Gabrielle Engledue's death would be at once swept away.

Yet I held before me the fact that the millionaire, hand-in-glove with that scoundrelly Italian, intended to cast me into my grave. The Italians have all through the centuries been experts in secret assassination. The Doges of Venice, the Borgias, and the Medici have all had secret poisoners in their pay. The gay, careless race which laughs when the sun shines, are just the same to-day, after the war, as they were in the days of His Holiness Rodrigo Borgia. To-day your superstitious Italian criminal enters the church and prays to the Madonna that his _coup_--whatever it may be, from profiteering, picking pockets, or the secret assassination of an enemy--may be successful.

"I allege that Mr. De Gex is your enemy, Mrs. Cullerton," I said. "I have first-hand knowledge of it. Indeed, on the night of the ball at the Villa Clementini, he had in his pocket the wherewithal to bring upon you an illness which must inevitably prove fatal. He had a little glass tube which he had ordered Moroni to prepare, but which the doctor himself urged him not to break for fear of infecting himself and his family."

She sat staring at me open-mouthed.

"I--I really can't believe it!" she gasped. "Mr. De Gex would never

## act in such a dastardly manner towards me. We are friends--old

friends."

"You may be, but I happen to know the truth," I declared. "He pretends friendship towards you, but his intentions are that your lips shall be closed. For some reason he fears you."

"Are you really quite serious?" she asked, looking me full in the face.

"I certainly am," I replied. "The reason I am here is to warn you to have a care of yourself. That some evil is intended, I know. Only I rely upon you to keep the information I have given you to yourself. Watch De Gex, but say nothing--_not a word_."

"I have already promised that I will remain silent," she remarked.

"You must also say no word to your husband. He is indebted to De Gex, hence he might tell him what I have said. And further, my name must never be mentioned to De Gex."

"Why not?"

"He would instantly guess the source of your information."

"But what is your motive for all this, Mr. Garfield?"

"My motive is a simple one. I am trying to find Gabrielle Engledue, and I am now wondering whether the girl I am seeking is not the same as the young lady you know as Gabrielle Tennison."

"Where did you meet this girl Engledue?" asked Mrs. Cullerton, with a queer inquisitive look.

I paused for a second.

"In London--at the house of a mutual friend."

Her expression caused me to ponder, for I discerned that she was inclined to doubt me.

"And why are you seeking her now?"

"I have a distinct object in view."

"You've--well, perhaps you've fallen in love with her--eh?" she laughed lightly.

"Not at all," I assured her. "I have a private, but very strong, motive in discovering her. I want to put to her certain questions."

"About what, Mr. Garfield? Come, it is now my turn to be a little inquisitive," and she laughed again.

"About a certain little matter in which we are mutually interested," was my evasive answer. Then, after a pause, I looked straight into her eyes, and added very earnestly: "I wonder whether if I should require your help, Mrs. Cullerton, you would assist me?"

"In what way?"

"At present I cannot tell. To be frank, I am striving to solve a great and inscrutable mystery. Just now I am amazed and bewildered. But I feel that you are the only person who could help me--because you and I are equally in peril."

"But, Mr. Garfield, I see no reason why I should be upon the brink of this mysterious abyss!" she cried. "You don't explain the situation sufficiently fully."

"Because at present I cannot do so. No one regrets it more than myself. There is a grim mystery--a very great mystery--and I intend, with your assistance, to escape my enemy and clear it up."

"Who is your enemy?"

"Oswald De Gex! He is my enemy as well as yours," I said very seriously. "If you were in the possession of such facts as those I have gathered during the past week or so, you would be startled and--well, perhaps terrified. But I only again beg of you to have a care of yourself. You have promised silence, and I, on my part, will carry on my search for the truth."

"The truth of what?"

"The truth concerning Gabrielle Engledue."

The pretty little woman again looked at me very straight in the face for some moments without speaking. Then, with a strange hardness about her mouth, she said:

"Mr. Garfield, take it from me, you will never discover what you are in search of. The truth is too well hidden."

"What? Then you know something--eh?" I cried quickly.

"Yes. It is true!" she answered in a low, hard voice. "I do know something--something of a certain secret that can never pass my lips!"

CHAPTER THE TENTH

MONSIEUR SUZOR AGAIN

Mrs. Cullerton's words held me breathless.

At first I believed that I might wring the truth from her lips, but I quickly saw that she intended to preserve her secret at all costs. Whether she actually believed what I had told her concerning her own peril was doubtful. In any case, she seemed in some strange manner held powerless and fascinated by the rich man who had saved her speculating husband from ruin.

I remained there for still another quarter of an hour until her maid announced a visitor, when I was compelled to rise and take my leave.

For a few days longer I remained in Florence; then I left for London. On entering the Calais express at the Gare du Nord in Paris on my way home, I was agreeably surprised to find among my fellow travellers to England the affable French banker whom I had met on that memorable journey from York to London. He recognized me at once, and I inquired why he was not, as usual, crossing by air to Croydon.

"Ah!" he laughed. "The last time I crossed three weeks ago we went into a thick fog over the Channel, and it was not very comfortable. So I prefer the rail just now."

On this occasion we exchanged cards. His name was Gaston Suzor, and between Paris and Calais we discussed many things, for he was a well-informed man and a true hater of the Boches. On the steamer we strolled upon the deck together, and we passed quite a pleasant journey in company. He was surprised that I had been in Italy, but I explained that I had been granted long leave of absence by my firm, and that I had gone to Florence upon private affairs.

We parted at Charing Cross, Monsieur Suzor to go to the Carlton, and I home to our little flat in Rivermead Mansions.

A note lay upon the dining-room table. Hambledon was away in Cardiff, and he had left word in case I should return unexpectedly. The place was cold and fireless, and I was glad to go over to the Claredon to have my dinner.

My one thought was of Gabrielle Tennison, who lived with her mother in a maisonette at Earl's Court. So I took a taxi to Longridge Road, and after numerous inquiries at neighbouring shops in Earl's Court Road, I discovered in which house lived Mrs. Tennison and her daughter. The hour was late, therefore I felt that it was useless to keep observation upon the place in the hope of the girl coming forth.

I had no excuse to make a call. Besides, I might, if I acted indiscreetly, destroy all my chances of solving the strange enigma.

Therefore not until ten o'clock on the following morning did I take up my vigilant watch at the end of the road, at a spot from which I had full view of the house in question. My watch proved a long and weary one, for not until three o'clock in the afternoon was my patience rewarded.

The front door suddenly opened, and down the steps came the slim figure of a girl, followed by a woman. As they approached me I saw that it was the girl I had seen with Moroni in Florence, while the woman was, from her dress, evidently an old servant.

The girl of mystery was attired quite smartly in black, her appearance being very different from the shabby figure she presented in Florence. But her beautiful countenance was just as pathetic, with that strange set expression of ineffable sadness. She passed me by without glancing at me, while the stout, homely woman at her side held her arm linked in hers.

They turned into Earl's Court Road and walked towards Kensington High Street, while I followed at a respectable distance. I could not fail to notice the grace of carriage of the girl whose listless attitude was so mysterious, and whose exact whereabouts Oswald De Gex was concealing from his friend, Mrs. Cullerton. But the one point which puzzled me sorely was whether the girl walking in front of me all unconscious of my presence was the same that I had seen dead at Stretton Street, and for whom I had given a false certificate to cover up what had evidently been a crime with malice aforethought.

The pair now and then became lost in the crowd of foot-passengers in busy Kensington, but I followed them. Occasionally they paused to look into Barker's shop windows, but the interest was evidently on the part of the serving-woman, for Gabrielle Tennison--or whatever her actual name--seemed to evince no heed of things about her. She walked like one in a dream, with her thoughts afar off, yet her face was the sweetest, most beautiful, and yet the saddest I had ever witnessed. Tragedy was written upon her pale countenance, and I noticed that one or two men and women in passing the pair turned to look back at them. In that face of flawless beauty a strange story was written--a mystery which I was strenuously seeking to solve.

Presently they entered Kensington Gardens, strolling along the gravelled walks beneath the bare, leafless trees that were so black with London's grime. The day was cold, but bright, hence quite a number of persons were walking there, together with the usual crowd of nursemaids with the children of the well-to-do from the Hyde Park and Kensington districts.

The pair passed leisurely half-way up the Broad Walk, when they presently rested upon a seat nearly opposite the great façade of Kensington Palace.

I saw that I had not been noticed either by the old servant or by her mysterious young mistress, therefore I sank quickly upon a seat some distance away, but in such a position that I could still see them as they talked together.

Was Gabrielle Engledue living--or was she dead? Or was Gabrielle Tennison and Gabrielle Engledue one and the same person? A living face is different from that of the same person when dead, hence the great problem presenting itself.

It seemed as though in conversation the girl became animated, for she gesticulated slightly as though in angry protest at some remark of her companion, and then suddenly I had a great surprise.

Coming down the Broad Walk I saw a figure in a grey overcoat and soft brown hat which I instantly recognized. He walked straight to where the pair were seated, lifted his hat, and then seated himself beside the girl.

The man was my French friend, Suzor!

That they had gone there on purpose to meet him was now quite clear, for after a few moments the old woman laughed, rose and walked on, in order to leave the girl alone with the Frenchman. What could be the meaning of that clandestine meeting?--for clandestine it was, or Monsieur Suzor would have called at Longridge Road. Possibly they expected that they might be watched, hence they had met as though by accident at that spot where they believed they would not be observed.

Gaston Suzor was a shrewd, clever man. But what did this friendship with Gabrielle Tennison denote? As I watched I saw him speaking very earnestly. For some time she sat with her gloved hands idly in her lap listening to his words without comment. Then she shook her head, and put up her hands in protest. Afterwards by her attitude she seemed to be appealing to him, while he remained obdurate and unperturbed.