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Updated: September 18, 2025
A moment later the Baron de Courcelles issued from the inn and crossed the lawn towards Madame de Melbain. "Madame," he said, "the man who was caught in the park last night is, without doubt, a spy from Mexonia! He can be charged with nothing more serious than trespass, and in a few minutes he will be free. Should he return, this" he glanced towards Duncan "would be the end.
He found it useless to try to attract the attention of either Madame de Melbain or Duncan, so he went in search of Wrayson. "Monsieur is served," he announced, looking blandly upwards at a passing cloud. "There remains the wine only." "Chablis of the best, and ice, and mineral water," Wrayson ordered. "Come, Louise."
She looked into his face, and something of the terror of the night before was in her eyes. "To us," she said slowly, "to Madame de Melbain and to me, he was a ghost, an actual apparition. He spoke to us with the voice of one whom we know to be dead. He came to us, in his form." Wrayson looked across at her with a quiet smile. "There was nothing of the ghost about Duncan!" he remarked.
Wrayson bowed and waited. Somehow he felt that he was on the eve of a great discovery. "Both before my marriage and afterwards," Madame de Melbain said quietly, "I wrote to Captain Fitzmaurice. I was always impulsive when I was younger, and my letters, especially one written on the eve of my marriage, would no doubt decide the case against me.
"Yes, I believe you! Let me tell you this, then. I count it amongst my misfortunes that my own troubles have become in so large a manner the troubles of my friends. You will appreciate that the more, perhaps, when I tell you that Madame de Melbain is not the name by which I am generally known. I am that unfortunate woman the Queen of Mexonia!"
Yet your life has been unhappy. Release could scarcely have been anything but a relief to you!" Madame de Melbain raised her head slightly. Her brows were a little contracted. From her eyes there flashed the silent fire of a queen's disdain. "Release! Yes, I would welcome that! If it were death it would be very welcome!
"They said that every entrance to the place was guarded." Wrayson had time to take only one quick step towards the wood, when a shrill cry rang out upon the still night. Then there was the trampling under foot of bushes and undergrowth, the sound of men's voices, one English and threatening, the other guttural and terrified. Madame de Melbain and her escort had paused and were looking back.
Captain Fitzmaurice was killed in Natal, but in a mysterious way news has reached me of the letters since his death." "In what way?" Wrayson asked. For the first time, Madame de Melbain glanced a little nervously about her. Against listeners, however, they seemed absolutely secure. There was no hiding-place, nor any one within sight. Upon the land was everywhere the silence of a great heat.
Madame de Melbain led the way, ushered by the major-domo and followed immediately by the Baron and Mademoiselle de Courcelles. Wrayson, with Louise, brought up the rear. They crossed the white flagged hall and entered an apartment which Wrayson, although his capacity for wonder was diminishing, felt himself compelled to pause and admire.
Even in the shade where they sat the still air was hot and breathless. Down in the valley the cows stood knee deep in the stream, and a blue haze hung over the vineyards. "Nearly eighteen months ago," Madame de Melbain continued, "I received a letter signed by the name of Morris Barnes.
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