Detective and mystery stories; Fiction; Love stories
By the man-in-the-street he was believed to be supremely content in his
great possessions, his magnificent mansions, his princely bank balance,
his steam yacht and his pack of hounds, yet I, his confidential friend
and secretary, knew well the weariness and chagrin that was now eating
out his heart. Her ladyship, two years his junior, was one of the three
celebrated beauties known in London drawing-rooms as "the giddy
Gordons," and who, notwithstanding her marriage, still remained the
leader of that ultra-smart set, and always had one or two admirers in
her train. She was still marvellously beautiful; her portraits,
representing her yachting, motoring, shooting or riding to hounds, were
familiar to every one, and after her marriage it had become the fashion
to regard the Countess of Stanchester as one of the leaders of the
London _mode_.
All this caused her husband deep regret and worry. He was unhappy, for
with her flitting to and from the Continental spas, to Rome, to
Florence, to Scotland, to Paris and elsewhere, he enjoyed little of her
society, although he loved her dearly and had married her purely on that
account.
Often in the silence of his room he sighed heavily when he spoke of her
to me, and more than once, old friends that we were, he had unbosomed
himself to me, so that, knowing what I did, I honestly pitied him.
There was, in fact, affection just as strong in the heart of the
millionaire landowner as in that of his very humble secretary.
"I had the misfortune to be born a rich man, Willoughby," he had once
declared to me. "If I had been poor and had had to work for my living,
I should probably have been far happier."
At the present moment, however, he seemed to have forgotten his own
sorrows in the startling occurrence that had taken place within his own
demesne, and his declaration that the man now dead had followed him in
London was to me intensely interesting. It added more mystery to the
affair.
"Are you quite certain that you recognise him?" I inquired a few
moments later, wondering whether, if this were an actual fact, I had not
also seen him when walking with the Earl in London.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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