The Sign of the Seven Sins
story was strange and rather romantic, for he gave me to understand
that this woman had made a pretence of loving him, and had induced
him to play here, in her house, and lose large sums to the men who
were her accomplices. Personally, I was not very charmed with her,”
Ernest went on, glancing at me. “She was evidently, as Thorne had
declared, acquainted with many of the worst characters who frequent
Monte Carlo, and I began to think seriously that my own reputation
would be besmirched by being seen constantly in her company. Still,
I tried to dissuade my friend from endeavoring to bring justice upon
such a person, arguing that, having lost the money in a private
gaming establishment, he had no remedy at law. But he was young and
headstrong--possibly suffering from a fit of jealousy. After several
days, however, fearing that he might create a scene with this notorious
woman, I induced him to go over to Nice and stay at the Grand. While
there, curiously enough, he met the lady who is here present, Miss
Rosselli, and at once fell deeply in love with her.”
“No,” I protested in quick indignation. “There was no love whatever
between us. That I strongly deny.”
“Carmela,” he said, addressing me with a calm, serious look, “in this
affair I must speak plainly and openly. I myself have a confession to
make.”
“Of what?”
“Listen, and I’ll explain everything.” Then, turning to the others,
he went on: “Reginald fell violently in love with Miss Rosselli, not
knowing that she had once been engaged to become my wife. When, the
day after meeting her at the hotel, he told me of his infatuation and
I explained the truth, he seemed considerably upset. ‘She loves you
still,’ he said. ‘I feel certain that she does, for she has given me no
encouragement.’ I affected to take no notice of his words, but to me
the matter was a very painful one. I had broken off the engagement, it
was true, but my heart was now filled with bitter remorse. I had seen
Carmela again, all the old love had come back to me, and I now despised
myself for my mean and unwarrantable action. We had met several times,
but as strangers, and knowing her proud spirit I feared to approach
her, feeling certain that she would never forgive.”
“Forgive!” I cried. “I would have gladly forgiven.”
“Carmela,” he said, turning again to me with a grave, serious
expression, “I regret being compelled to lay bare my secret thus before
you, but I must tell them everything.”
“Yes,” I said. “Now that this woman is to bear the punishment of her
crime, let us know all.” Then I added bitterly, “Speak, regardless of
my feelings, or even of my presence.”
“A few days prior to his tragic end poor Reggie had, as I have
explained, moved over to the Grand at Nice, but, strangely enough, the
same idea had occurred to this woman Fournereau. She preferred to live
in Nice during Carnival, she told me, for she liked all the fun and
gayety. Whether it was for that reason I know not, but at all events
it seems clear, from inquiries recently completed in Nice, that one
afternoon he met this woman at Rumpelmeyer’s, the fashionable lounge
for afternoon tea, and in a sudden fit of anger declared that he would
denounce her as an adventuress and swindler. Now it appears that her
clients, the gamblers who frequent this place, number among them some
of the most notorious and desperate members of the criminal fraternity,
and the natural conclusion is that, fearing his exposure, she killed
him.”
“I deny it!” cried the wretched woman. “It is a false accusation which
you cannot prove!”
“The extreme care and marvellous ingenuity by which the young man’s
death was encompassed is shown by every detail of the case. Not a
single point, apparently, was overlooked. Even the means by which he
was assassinated has remained until now a mystery. But, passing to
the night of the tragedy, it will be remembered that he had won sixty
thousand francs at roulette, and having left Miss Rosselli and her
friends he re-entered the Rooms and changed his winnings into large
notes. Half-an-hour before, this woman, whom I had met earlier in the
evening, and who had dined with me at Ciro’s, had wished me good-by,
and having previously watched his success at the tables, followed him
into the Casino when he re-entered to change the notes. The interval of
about an hour between his leaving Monte Carlo and his arrival at the
Grand Hotel at Nice is still unaccounted for. Nevertheless, we know
that this woman whom he had threatened travelled by the same train from
Monte Carlo to Nice, that she entered the hotel a few minutes later
and went to her room, and that next morning she had in her possession
sixty notes, each for one thousand francs. It seems, however, that she
quickly feared that suspicion might rest upon her, for the police had
commenced active inquiries, and therefore resolved to get rid of the
stolen notes. This she did with the aid of an accomplice, a man named
Laumont, well known at Monte Carlo each season. This man, one of the
habitués of this place, went to the Carnival ball at the Nice Casino
and there gave Miss Rosselli the stolen money, intending that its
possession should throw suspicion upon her. Some other members of this
interesting gang of sharpers who make this place their head-quarters
and who go south in winter in search of pigeons to pluck, knowing
Laumont’s intention, posed as detectives, however, and to them Miss
Rosselli innocently handed over the notes she had received.”
He paused for a moment, then continued:
“Now, however, comes one of the most ingenious features of the affair.
This woman, finding next day that her plot to throw suspicion upon Miss
Rosselli had failed, turned her attention to myself. She was aware
that a slight quarrel had arisen between Reggie and myself regarding
his injudicious and futile action in seeking to denounce her, and with
others had overheard some high words between us when we had met at the
Café de Paris on the day previous to his death. She gave information to
the police, and then left the Riviera suddenly. Next day I found myself
under observation, and in order to escape arrest induced Mr. Keppel,
who has taken a great interest in the affair from the first, and who is
one of the trustees under the will of Mr. Thorne, Senior, to conceal me
on board his yacht until such time as our inquiries in Paris could be
completed. It was ascertained that this woman Fournereau, who had gone
to Russia, intended to return to her apartments here upon a date she
had arranged with her accomplice, Laumont, therefore I have remained
in hiding from the police until to-day. This is her first reception,
notice of which was circulated among her friends by means of cipher
upon certain tables in the cafés on the grand boulevards.”
“But this lady?” I inquired, indicating the handsome woman who had been
my travelling-companion in the wagon-lit.
“I am the mother of Reginald Thorne,” she herself responded.
“You Reggie’s mother!” I cried, scarce able to believe her words.
“Yes,” she answered. “Hearing of my poor son’s death, I crossed from
New York to Havre and arrived in Nice only to find that the Vispera had
sailed. A letter was awaiting me with full explanation, asking me to
travel to Marseilles and cross by the mail-steamer to Tunis and there
join the yacht. This I did, but in order that my presence should not
be known to those on board I was placed secretly in the deck-cabin and
never went forth. The blow that had fallen upon me on hearing of poor
Reggie’s death, combined with the constant imprisonment in that cabin,
I believe upset the balance of my mind, for one night, the night before
we put into Leghorn, I became unconscious. I was subject to strange
hallucinations, and that night experienced a sensation as though some
one was attempting to take my life by strangulation.”
“I must explain,” said old Mr. Keppel, addressing her. “It is only
right that you should now know the truth. On the night in question
you were unusually restless, and becoming seized by a fit of hysteria
commenced to shout and shriek all sorts of wild words regarding
your poor son’s murder. Now I had concealed you there, and fearing
lest some of the guests should hear you and that a scandal might be
created, I tried to silence you. You fought me tooth and nail, for I
verily believe that the close confinement had driven you insane. In
the struggle I had my hands over your mouth and afterwards pressed
your throat in order to prevent your hysterical shrieks, when suddenly
I saw blood upon your lips, and the awful truth dawned upon me that
I had killed you by strangulation. Tewson, the chief steward,--who
in addition to Cameron was the only person on board who knew of your
presence,--entering at that moment, made the diabolical suggestion that
in order to get rid of the evidence of my crime I should allow him to
blow up the ship. This I refused, and fortunately an hour later we
succeeded in restoring you to consciousness. Then we landed at Leghorn
on the following evening, not, however, before I discovered that
the real motive of Tewson’s suggestion was that he had stolen three
thousand pounds in cash, notes, and securities from a despatch-box in
Lord Stoneborough’s cabin, and wished to destroy the ship so that his
crime might remain concealed. The man, I have discovered, has a very
bad record, and he has now disappeared.”
Then briefly I explained what I had seen and overheard on that
wild, boisterous night in the Mediterranean; how I had followed
the millionaire and the woman who was bent upon avenging the
murder of her son; how I had sent the yacht to Genoa, and how
carefully I had watched the movements of all three during those two
never-to-be-forgotten days in Paris. All seemed amazed at my story,
Ernest most of all.
“During that night in the wagon-lit,” I said, addressing Mrs. Thorne,
“I noticed two curious marks upon your neck. Upon your poor son’s neck
were similar marks.”
“Yes,” she replied, “they were birth-marks--known as the marks of
thumb and finger. Poor Reggie bore them exactly as I do.” And she
also explained how, having recognized me as a fellow-guest on board
the Vispera, she had purposely endeavored to mislead me by her
conversation, as she feared that my suspicion of Ernest might upset
their plans.
“And the woman who murdered poor Reggie, and who so ingeniously
attempted first to fasten the guilt upon Miss Rosselli, and afterwards
upon myself, is there!” cried Ernest, pointing at the trembling,
white-faced figure before us. “She killed him because she feared the
revelations he could make to the police regarding this place in which
we are standing.”
Outside sounded loud scuffling and altercation, for, as it afterwards
proved, the strong body of police who had raided the place, finding
many persons “wanted,” were making wholesale arrests.
The woman Fournereau raised her head at Ernest’s denunciation and
laughed a strange, harsh laugh of defiance.
“Bien!” she cried shrilly with affected carelessness. “Arrest me,
if you will! But I tell you that you are mistaken. You have been
clever,--very clever, all of you,--but the assassin was not myself.”
The police officer addressed her, saying:
“Then if not yourself, you are aware of the identity of the murderer.
So I shall arrest you as being an accomplice. It is the same.”
“No, I was not even an accomplice,” she protested quickly. “I may be
owner of this place; I may be a--a person known to you, but I swear I
have never been a murderess.”
The officer smiled dubiously.
“The decision upon that point must be left to the judges,” he answered.
“There is evidence against you. For the present that is sufficient.”
“Monsieur Cameron has told you that I was threatened with exposure by