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Updated: September 18, 2025
"About a year ago," he said, "Madame de Melbain received a terrifying letter from the miscreant into whose hands they had fallen. Madame very wisely made a confidant of me, and, with the Baroness de Sturm, I left at once for London, and saw this man. I very soon persuaded myself that he had the letters and that he knew their value.
Madame de Melbain and Louise had drawn a little apart; a few remarks as to the beauty of the chateau and its situation passed between Wrayson and the Baron. The name of its owner was mentioned, and Wrayson indicated his acquaintance with her.
Behind it all, Wrayson felt that there was something which he could not understand, there was something of the mystery in those dark sad eyes which seemed to pervade the whole atmosphere of the place and the lives of these people. Louise rose as he approached and motioned him to take her vacated place. "Madame de Melbain would like to talk to you for a few moments," she said quietly.
His eyes were fixed upon the still expressionless face of the woman whose story was slowly unfolding its tragic course. "A rumour of this," Madame de Melbain continued, "reached us in Mexonia! I telegraphed to Amy! She and Louise were at their wits' ends.
Movement, when it came, came from the principal actors in that wonderful scene. Madame de Melbain was alone, supported in Louise's arms, the Englishman's heavy footsteps were already audible, crashing through the undergrowth. Louise pointed to the wood and called out to Wrayson: "Follow him! Don't let him out of your sight! Quick!" Wrayson turned and sped down the avenue.
She was looking at them from underneath her lace parasol, with faintly uplifted eyebrows, and the dawn of a smile upon her beautiful lips. Louise sprang to her feet, and Wrayson followed her example. Madame de Melbain lowered her parasol as though to shut out the sight of the two. "May I come on?" she asked. "I want to speak to Louise, although I am afraid I am shockingly de trop."
"It is not hospitable, this! I only wished to see the chateau by moonlight!" Wrayson's fellow guest at the Lion d'Or turned to follow them. "The fellow might try to escape," he muttered; but again Madame de Melbain called to him. "You must not go away," she said, "yet!"
But but what about Madame de Melbain?" "Madame de Melbain and my brother were friends," she said quietly. "There were obstacles or they would have been more than friends." Wrayson nodded. "Now supposing," he said, "that, by some miracle, your brother still lived, that this was he, is there any reason why he should avoid you both?" She thought for a moment. "Yes!" she said slowly, "there is."
They left the Grosvenor Hotel, where Louise, with Madame de Melbain, had arrived about an hour ago, and turned towards Battersea. Louise began to talk, nervously, and with a very obvious desire to keep the conversation to indifferent subjects. Wrayson humoured her for some time.
"I was a little rash, perhaps," he said, "but they were all I had left. They were with me at Colenso, in an envelope, sealed and addressed, to be burnt unopened. When I was hit, I got a Red Cross man to cut them out of my coat and destroy them." Madame de Melbain looked at him for a moment, and her eyes were soft with unshed tears. Then she turned away, though her hand still rested upon his.
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