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Yet within the stout heart of Hugh Henfrey, who was so straight, honest and upright a young fellow as ever trod the Broad at Oxford, lay that ghastly secret indeed, a double secret that of his revered father's mysterious end and the inexplicable attack upon Yvonne Ferad at the very moment when he had been about to learn the truth.
It's a pity, old man, that you didn't make a clean breast of the motive of your visit." "I now see my horrible mistake," Henfrey admitted. "I thought myself wise to preserve silence, to know nothing, and now I see quite plainly that I have only brought suspicion unduly upon myself. The police, however, know Yvonne Ferad to be a somewhat mysterious person."
"Mademoiselle Yvonne Ferad rented a furnished house at Hove, near Brighton, in June, 1918. Afterwards moved to Worthing and to Exeter, and later took a house in the Cromwell Road, London, in 1919. She was accompanied by an Italian manservant named Cataldi. Her conduct was suspicious, though she was undoubtedly possessed of considerable means.
"But why do the police still search for him?" "Because of an unfortunate fact. The lady, Mademoiselle Ferad, is now confined to a private asylum at Cannes, but all the time she raves furiously about Monsieur Henfrey. Hence the French police are convinced that he shot her and they are determined upon his arrest." "But do you think he is guilty?" "I know he is not.
The last time Hugh had referred to it, about a month before his visit to Monte Carlo, Benton had been greatly upset, and had begged the young man not to mention the tragic affair. Constantly, however, Benton, on his part, would put cunning questions to him concerning Yvonne Ferad, as to what he knew concerning her, and how he had managed to escape over the frontier into Italy.
"Quite certain," he assured him. "Why do you ask?" "I have my own reasons," replied the police officer with a hard laugh. "Now, tell me what do you know about Mademoiselle Ferad?" "Practically nothing." "Then why did you call upon her?" "I have told you. I desired some information, and she was about to give it to me when the weapon was fired by an unknown hand." "Unknown eh?" "Yes. Unknown to me.
She rented an apartment in Paris, and afterwards played at Monte Carlo, where she won a considerable sum, with the proceeds of which she purchased the Villa Amette, which she now occupies each season." "Extracts of reports concerning Marie Leullier, alias Yvonne Ferad, are herewith appended: "Criminal Investigation Department, New Scotland Yard, London to the Prefecture of Police, Paris.
Then the car moved away along the winding road and Hugh knew that he was on Italian soil that he had happily escaped from France. But why had he escaped, he reflected? He was innocent. Would not his flight lend colour to the theory that Yvonne Ferad had been shot by his hand? Again, who was his unknown friend who had warned him of his peril and made those elaborate arrangements for his escape?
As for Hugh, he is now happily married to Dorise, and as the Probate Court has decided that Woodthorpe and the substantial income are his, he is enjoying all his father's wealth. Yvonne Ferad is still Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo. She still lives on the hill in the picturesque Villa Amette, and is still known to the habitues of the Rooms as Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo.
What would your poor father think, I wonder, if he were still alive?" "He's dead," said the young man in a low, hoarse voice; "but Mademoiselle Ferad knows the secret of his death." "He died suddenly did he not?" "Yes. He was murdered, Mrs. Bond. I'm certain of it. My father was murdered!" "Murdered?" she echoed. "What did the doctors say?"
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