English fiction -- 20th century; Forgery -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction; Mystery and detective stories
The sudden understanding of the strange events in which she had been
forced to take so active a part not only paralysed Audrey, but made
her feel as if this direct attack were quite a secondary matter.
For there was the question of the disappearance of the White Countess
to be met. And though indeed she had heard nothing of the matter since
the evening when she had seen the white-clad lady lying, as she
believed, dead in the fitting-room, there was suddenly borne in upon
her in all its dreadful force the conviction that this was not the
end, that she would be forced to hear more about the tragedy
by-and-by.
Instead, therefore, of indignantly meeting the charge thus
unexpectedly brought against her by the viscount, she drew a long
breath, tried to speak, faltered, and seeming to lose her physical
strength and her courage at the same time, put out her hand for the
support of the writing-table from which she had just risen, and leaned
upon it, swaying slightly, and looking, as she felt, the picture of
utter distress and dismay.
Absolutely as he believed in her guilt, Lord Clanfield, a chivalrous
gentleman, to whom this duty of rescuing his sons from the clutches of
the keeper of a gaming-house was utterly distasteful, was extremely
distressed by her behaviour.
He was far too simple-minded and unsophisticated, being rather a quiet
country gentleman than a man of the world, to have recognised at once,
what a shrewder man would have done, the improbability that this
fresh-looking young woman could be the same person as the notorious
Madame Rocada, whose wiles had brought about the death of the son of
his friend.
At the same time, the effect of her extraordinary beauty and of the
straightforward dignity of her manner was such that he felt
exceedingly uncomfortable, and almost wished that he had not insisted
upon taking this matter into his own hands, instead of leaving it to
be managed by his solicitors.
After what seemed to both a very long pause, he said, with a change of
tone:--
“I regret exceedingly to be forced to this course, Madame Rocada. I
have, however, no choice. My sons are, unfortunately, extravagant and
difficult to control, and I have therefore thought it best to come
straight to you, to ask you to help me in this matter.”
Now this speech, uttered in a much less severe tone than his previous
words, showed a distinct advance in the direction of friendliness.
Whether or not there was already some doubt in the viscount’s mind, he
seemed to wish to qualify his blunt accusation.
To Audrey, however, this was a matter of no moment. The statement
remained uncontradicted, the awful accusation of her having been a
party to, or in some way concerned in, the death of a man.
With this in her mind, she did not appear to hear or understand this
second speech, but, as soon as she had recovered herself a little,
went straight back to the first.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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