The Yellow Crayon
“I do not question you as to the reason for your getting it,” he
answered. “Very shortly afterwards you left your carriage in Pall Mall,
and without even asking for your husband you called at his hotel--you
stole up into his room.”
“I took some roses there and left them,” she said “What of that?”
“Only that you were the last person seen to enter Mr. Sabin’s rooms
before Duson was found there dead. And Duson died from a dose of that
same poison, a packet of which you procured secretly from Emil Sachs. An
empty wineglass was by his side--it was one generally used by Mr. Sabin.
I know that the English police, who are not so foolish as people would
have one believe, are searching now for the woman who was seen to enter
the sitting-room shortly before Mr. Sabin returned and found Duson there
dead.”
She laughed scornfully.
“It is ingenious,” she admitted, “and perhaps a little unfortunate for
me. But the inference is ridiculous. What interest had I in the man’s
death?”
“None, of course!” the Prince said. “But, Lucille, in all cases of
poisoning it is the wife of whom one first thinks!”
“The wife? I did not even know that the creature had a wife.”
“Of course not! But Duson drank from Mr. Sabin’s glass, and you are
Mr. Sabin’s wife. You are living apart from him. He is old and you are
young. And for the other man--there is Reginald Brott. Your names have
been coupled together, of course. See what an excellent case stands
there. You procure the poison--secretly. You make your way to your
husband’s room--secretly. The fatal dose is taken from your husband’s
wineglass. You leave no note, no message. The poison of which the man
died is exactly the same as you procured from Sachs. Lucille, after all,
do you wonder that the police are looking for a woman in black with an
ermine toque? What a mercy you wore a thick veil!”
She sat down suddenly.
“This is hideous,” she said.
“Think it over,” he said, “step by step. It is wonderful how all the
incidents dovetail into one another.”
“Too wonderful,” she cried. “It sounds like some vile plot to
incriminate me. How much had you to do with this, Prince?”
“Don’t be a fool!” he answered roughly. “Can’t you see for yourself that
your arrest would be the most terrible thing that could happen for us?
Even Sachs might break down in cross-examination, and you--well, you
are a woman, and you want to live. We should all be in the most deadly
peril. Lucille, I would have spared you this anxiety if I could, but
your defiance made it necessary. There was no other way of getting you
away from England to-night except by telling you the truth.”
“Away from England to-night,” she repeated vaguely. “But I will not go.
It is impossible.”
“It is imperative,” the Prince declared, with a sharp ring of authority
in his tone. “It is your own folly, for which you have to pay. You went
secretly to Emil Sachs. You paid surreptitious visits to your husband,
which were simply madness. You have involved us all in danger. For our
own sakes we must see that you are removed.”
“It is the very thing to excite suspicion--flight abroad,” she objected.
“Your flight,” he said coolly, “will be looked upon from a different
point of view, for Reginald Brott must follow you. It will be an
elopement, not a flight from justice.”
“And in case I should decline?” Lucille asked quietly.
The Prince shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, we have done the best we can for ourselves,” he said. “Come, I
will be frank with you. There are great interests involved here, and,
before all things, I have had to consider the welfare of our friends.
That is my duty! Emil Sachs by this time is beyond risk of detection.
He has left behind a letter, in which he confesses that he has for
some time supplemented the profits of his wine-shop by selling secretly
certain deadly poisons of his own concoctions. Alarmed at reading of the
death of Duson immediately after he had sold a poison which the symptoms
denoted he had fled the country. That letter is in the hands of the
woman who remains in the wine-shop, and will only be used in case of
necessity. By other means we have dissociated ourselves from Duson and
all connection with him. I think I could go so far as to say that it
would be impossible to implicate us. Our sole anxiety now, therefore, is
to save you.”
Lucille rose to her feet.
“I shall go at once to my husband,” she said. “I shall tell him
everything. I shall act on his advice.”
The Prince stood over by the door, and she heard the key turn.
“You will do nothing of the sort,” he said quietly. “You are in my power
at last, Lucille. You will do my bidding, or--”
“Or what?”
“I shall myself send for the police and give you into custody!”
CHAPTER XXXV
The Prince crossed the hall and entered the morning-room. Felix was
there and Raoul de Brouillac. The Duchess sat at her writing-table,
scribbling a note. Lady Carey, in a wonderful white serge costume, and
a huge bunch of Neapolitan violets at her bosom, was lounging in an
easy-chair, swinging her foot backwards and forwards. The Duke, in a
very old tweed coat, but immaculate as to linen and the details of
his toilet, stood a little apart, with a frown upon his forehead, and
exactly that absorbed air which in the House of Lords usually indicated
his intention to make a speech. The entrance of the Prince, who
carefully closed the door behind him, was an event for which evidently
they were all waiting.
“My good people,” he said blandly, “I wish you all a very good-morning.”
There was a little murmur of greetings, and before they had all subsided
the Duke spoke.
“Saxe Leinitzer,” he said, “I have a few questions to ask you.”
The Prince looked across the room at him.
“By all means, Duke,” he said. “But is the present an opportune time?”
“Opportune or no, it is the time which I have selected,” the Duke
answered stiffly. “I do not altogether understand what is going on in
this house. I am beginning to wonder whether I have been misled.”
The Prince, as he twirled his fair moustache, glanced carelessly enough
across at the Duchess. She was looking the other way.
“I became a--er--general member of this Society,” the Duke continued,
“sympathising heartily with its objects as explained to me by you,
Prince, and believing, although to confess it is somewhat of a
humiliation, that a certain amount of--er--combination amongst the
aristocracy has become necessary to resist the terrible increase of
Socialism which we must all so much deplore.”
“You are not making a speech, dear,” the Duchess remarked, looking
coldly across the room at him. “We are all anxious to hear what the
Prince has to say to us.”
“Your anxiety,” the Duke continued, “and the anxiety of our friends must
be restrained for a few minutes, for there are certain things which I
am determined to say, and to say them now. I must confess that it was
at first a painful shock to me to realise that the time had come when it
was necessary for us to take any heed of the uneducated rabble who seem
born into the world discontented with their station in life, and instead
of making honest attempts to improve it waste their time railing against
us who are more fortunately placed, and in endeavours to mislead in
every possible way the electorate of the country.”
The Prince sighed softly, and lit a cigarette. Lady Carey and Felix were
already smoking.
“However,” the Duke continued, “I was convinced. I have always believed
in the principle of watching closely the various signs of the times,
and I may say that I came to the conclusion that a combination of the
thinking members of the aristocratic party throughout the world was an
excellent idea. I therefore became what is, I believe, called a general
member of the Order, of which I believe you, Prince, are the actual
head.”
“My dear James,” the Duchess murmured, “the Prince has something to say
to us.”
“The Prince,” her husband answered coldly, “can keep back his
information for a few minutes. I am determined to place my position
clearly before all of you who are present here now. It is only since I
have joined this Society that I have been made aware that in addition to
the general members, of which body I believe that the Duchess and I are
the sole representatives here, there are special members, and members of
the inner circle. And I understand that in connection with these there
is a great machinery of intrigue going on all the time, with branches
all over the world, spies everywhere with unlimited funds, and with huge
opportunities of good or evil. In effect I have become an outside member
of what is nothing more nor less than a very powerful and, it seems to
me, daring secret society.”
“So far as you are concerned, Duke,” the Prince said, “your
responsibility ceases with ordinary membership. You can take no count of
anything beyond. The time may come when the inner circle may be opened
to you.”
The Duke coughed.
“You misapprehend me,” he said. “I can assure you I am not anxious for
promotion. On the contrary, I stand before you an aggrieved person. I
have come to the conclusion that my house, and the shelter of my wife’s
name, have been used for a plot, the main points of which have been kept
wholly secret from me.”
The Prince flicked his cigarette ash into the grate.
“My dear Dorset,” he said gently, “if you will allow me to explain--”
“I thank you, Saxe Leinitzer,” the Duke said coldly, “but it is
beginning to occur to me that I have had enough of your explanations.
It seemed natural enough to me, and I must say well conceived, that some
attempt should be made to modify the views of, if not wholly convert,
Reginald Brott by means of the influence of a very charming woman. It
was my duty as a member of the Order to assist in this, and the shelter
of my house and name were freely accorded to the Countess. But it is
news to me to find that she was brought here practically by force.
That because she was an inner member and therefore bound to implicit
obedience that she was dragged away from her husband, kept apart from
him against her will, forced into endeavours to make a fool of Brott
even at the cost of her good name. And now, worst of all, I am told that
a very deeply laid plot on the part of some of you will compel her
to leave England almost at once, and that her safety depends upon her
inducing Reginald Brott to accompany her.”
“She has appealed to you,” the Prince muttered.
“She has done nothing so sensible,” the Duke answered drily. “The facts
which I have just stated are known to every one in this room. I perhaps
know less than any one. But I know enough for this. I request, Saxe
Leinitzer, that you withdraw the name of myself and my wife from your
list of members, and that you understand clearly that my house is to
be no more used for meetings of the Society, formal or informal. And,
further, though I regret the apparent inhospitality of my action, my
finger is now, as you see, upon the bell, and I venture to wish you all
a very good-morning. Groves,” he added to the servant who answered the
door, “the Prince of Saxe Leinitzer’s carriage is urgently required.”
The Prince and Lady Carey descended the broad steps side by side. She
was laughing softly but immoderately. The Prince was pale with fury.
“Pompous old ass,” he muttered savagely. “He may have a worse scandal in
his house now than he dreams of.”
She wiped her eyes.
“Have I not always told you,” she said, “that intrigue in this country
was a sheer impossibility? You may lay your plans ever so carefully, but
you cannot foresee such a contretemps as this.”
“Idiot!” the Prince cried. “Oh, the dolt! Why, even his wife was
amazed.”
“He may be all those pleasant things,” Lady Carey, said, “but he is a
gentleman.”