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Updated: September 18, 2025
But between the two women and the man there was silence silence which lasted so long that Monsieur Jules, who was watching from a window, called softly upon all the saints of his acquaintance to explain to him of what nature was this mystery, which seemed to be developing, as it were, under his own surveillance. At last Madame de Melbain appeared to come to a decision.
"He is our friend," Madame de Melbain said. "You must not interfere with him." "As Madame wills! Come, you rascal," he added, gripping his prisoner by the shoulder. "We will show you what it means to climb over walls and trespass on the estate of Madame la Baronne. Come then!" The intruder accepted the situation with the most philosophic calm. Only one remark he ventured to make as he was led off.
On every side they were surrounded by chattering groups of English tourists and French holiday makers. Outside on the promenade a band was playing, and a leisurely crowd was passing back and forth. "The lady whom we will continue, if you please, to call Madame de Melbain," the Baron continued, "has desired me to take you two gentlemen into our entire confidence.
But listen. I must speak to you before the others come in." "I am all attention," he assured her. "It is about Madame de Melbain," she began, a little hesitatingly. He waited for her to continue. She seemed to be in some difficulty. "I want you to watch and do just what we others do," she said, "and not to be surprised if some of our arrangements seem a little curious.
"It is very little that I have been able to do for her," he said. "My complaint is that she will not give me the opportunity of doing more." "You are too modest," Madame de Melbain said slowly. "Louise has told me a good deal. I think that you have been a very faithful friend." Wrayson bowed but said nothing.
The flowers, with whose perfume the air was faintly fragrant, remained unseen, or visible only in blurred outline; the tall trees, whose tops were unstirred by even the slightest breeze, stood out like silent sentinels against the violet sky. Madame de Melbain stopped short upon the threshold of the terrace, with head slightly thrown back, and half-closed eyes.
I noticed myself that the lodge gates of the chateau were rather strictly guarded." "Very likely," the other answered. "Women of fashion who suffer from nerves take strange fancies nowadays. This Madame de Melbain is probably one of these." Wrayson nodded. "Very likely," he admitted. "What are you going to do with yourself all day?" "Loaf!
"This man Duncan who has disappeared so suddenly," he said thickly. "Whom did you say who was it that he reminded you of?" Madame de Melbain lost at last her composure. She was white to the lips, her eyes seemed suddenly lit with a horrible dread. She pushed out her hands as though to thrust it from her. "He was killed!" she cried. "It was not he! He is dead!
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