The Silk Vendetta

The Reason Why

I did not see Drake. Grand’mere said it would be dangerous and that if he should be unwise enough to call she would not allow him to see me.

Charles came though. He was above suspicion for the attempt had been made on his life.

Grand’mere came to my room to tell me that he was below.

“I’ll have to see him,” I said.

“Is it necessary?”

“I think so. I have to know what is in his mind.”

So I saw him. We faced each other in the little room where we took clients for discussions. He was subdued, so even he was affected.

When we were alone, he said: “So you thought you could be rid of me. You are indeed a vixen under that calm exterior.”

“I have never been in your rooms.”

“You had the motive. There was nothing you wanted more than to be rid of me. You were with Julia that afternoon. Nobody saw you leave. You know the house. You could have gone into my rooms after leaving Julia. You could have slipped down by means of that back staircase. ”You must have known it was my custom to take a glass of sherry while dressing.”

”I know no such thing.”

“Servants talk. Or you would have guessed I should be at that decanter some time. My dear Lenore, no one had a greater motive than you. I was going to make trouble for you and your lover. It was a clumsy attempt, my dear. And what he wanted more than anything was to be rid of Julia. I believe he even wanted a divorce. It could have worked, you know. But Julia came there and saw the decanter… something she could never resist. You should have been more subtle, though. Fancy using a poison which could be detected immediately. How did you expect to get away with that?”

“You talk as if …”

“That is how they will talk to you, Lenore. You will be suspected, you know, once the real investigation begins. You wanted to be rid of me, didn’t you?”

“You are talking arrant nonsense.”

“It seems to fit the case. Who wanted me out of the way? You! Who wanted Julia out of the way? Drake and you. Looking forward, both of you, I suppose, to the days when there would be no need for secret meetings in Parsons Road. You can be together under the cloak of respectability, and perhaps no one will ever know what you had to do to reach that happy state.”

“How dare you say such things?”

“I merely state the obvious.”

“Charles, go away. I shall tell the truth when I am asked. I visited Julia. I went straight in and came straight out by way of the main staircase. I have never been to your rooms and I have no knowledge of poisons.”

“No? Perhaps that is why you were so clumsy. Where did you get it? A little arsenic … They say you get it from fly papers. I believe there is a weed killer which can be very effective.”

“Please go away.”

“In my own time. Was that what you were planning in Number 12 Parsons Road? Did Nanny give her darling a few hints? Perhaps she provided the fly papers … or the weed killer? Nannies are so full of unexpected wisdom.”

“Go away! Go away!” I cried.

”You are not being your usual clever self. Think what I know. I could put a rope round your neck, my sweet Lenore … and perhaps one day your lover’s too.”

”I will listen to no more of this wicked talk.”

“Well, I will say au revoir. I will thank you for your warm welcome and your lavish hospitality. 1 shall be back to see you, Lenore. Who knows, we may be able to work something out together.”

Trembling with apprehension, I shut the door after him and sank down, covering my face with my hands. I wanted to shut out all thought of him. I wanted to forget this shocking tragedy which threatened Drake and me … and everyone connected with us.

I did not trust Charles. There were secrets in his eyes. I knew that he would have no compunction in destroying me.

I awoke in the morning to a feeling of dread. I was so pleased Katie was now in Paris. At least I did not have to worry about her.

I knew that questions would be asked. I knew, too, that there was a great deal of gossip. The servants looked at me almost furtively, as though they were summing up the situation and finding me the centre of the storm.

There is little our servants do not know about us. They are like private detectives … aware of every movement we make, ears strained for revealing conversations; and there is communication between the houses of friends whose servants are acquainted with each other.

It was well known that Drake and Julia had not got on well together. Many an outburst must have been overheard; and since the musical evening everyone was aware of my friendship with Drake.

The most sensational inferences were always put on these matters. I could sense that between them all, they had come to the conclusion that Drake and I were lovers whose aim it was to get rid of Julia. So Julia had died. True, she had taken drink which was meant for her brother, but nevertheless she had died and that was exactly what they believed Drake and I wanted.

The inevitable questions were asked. A man in a dark grey suit came to the house with another. They were police officers.

I was asked a great many questions. I had seen Julia on the day of her death. I had called in unexpectedly. I had spent a little time with her. How had she been? Very much as she usually was, I told them. She had not been drinking on that occasion? Not enough to make her intoxicated. We had spoken together quite rationally. What was the subject of our discourse? I knew I must be truthful. I said: “She was considering divorcing her husband. I had suggested that she should make an effort to save her marriage.”

“You were very good friends with both Mr. and Mrs. Aldringham?”

“Yes. She and I were brought up together, and we had both known Mr. Aldringham during our childhood.”

“I see, I see,” said the man, smiling discreetly. “And you were equally friendly with both of them?”

“I…I was friendly with both of them.”

“Had you at any time been engaged to Mr. Aldringham?”

“No.”

”Had there been any understanding between you?”

I hesitated.

“There was,” he said. “Yet he married this lady who has met this untimely and unfortunate death. It was a surprise to you that he should do so?”

“I knew that they were friends.”

He nodded.

“I don’t think there is anything more we have to say to you just now, Mrs. Sallonger. I have no doubt we shall be calling back.”

When they had gone Grand’mere insisted that I should lie down. She made me drink one of her cordials, and she sat by my bed. “Just till you sleep,” she said coaxingly.

As if I could sleep!

I was trying to rest when I heard the sound of raised voices coming from below. I lay listening for a moment and then got up and went to the door. They were coming from the reception room. The door must be open.

I hurried down and went in. I thought I was dreaming. Grand’mere was standing there, dismayed and defiant, two angry red spots of colour on her cheeks and her eyes blazing with fury. But it was not Grand’mere who startled me—for her companion was the Comte.

There was silence as I entered. He came towards me, smiling almost suavely as though it were the most natural thing in the world that he should be there.

“The Comte de Carsonne!” I cried. “What are you doing in London?”

“Please not so formal, Lenore,” he replied. “And I am in London to see you.” His eyes went to Grand’mere briefly as he added: “And I was determined to.”

He took my hands and I felt faint with relief and a ridiculous lightheartedness. For one glorious moment my fears and uncertainties seemed to vanish. There was only one thing I could think of: He was here and he had come to see me.

“You are well,” he said holding my hand and looking into my face anxiously.

“We have had some trouble here.”

“That is what I have been saying,” said Grand’mere tersely. “And we do not want to add to it.” She went on defiantly. “I have been telling Monsieur le Comte de Carsonne that you have no time just now to receive acquaintances.”

“Yes,” said the Comte sadly, “Madame has been telling me that I shall not be welcome here.”

“We have enough trouble,” said Grand’mere. “My granddaughter should be resting.” She turned to me. “You have a great deal on your mind. That is why I am telling Monsieur le Comte that you could not see him.”

“So,” he put in lightly, “you came down in the nick of time to prevent my being ordered to leave.”

“Grand’mere,” I said. “I wish to speak to the Comte.”

She was silent and I felt very sad to go against her wishes which I knew so well were all for my good. I knew how she cared for me and how she feared this man was going to do me some harm. But I had to talk to him … alone. I had a feeling that he could help me in some way. I did not know how. But he emanated strength and just to be with him gave me comfort.

“Please, Grand’mere … I shall be all right. I promise you.”

She looked at me helplessly and shrugged her shoulders. Then she turned and threw a venomous look at the Comte.

“Don’t be long,” she said pleadingly.

“I won’t,” I said.

The Comte bowed to her as she went out.

“She does not like me,” he said ruefully.

“She has heard stories of you.”

“Of me? I was a child when she went away from the place.”

“She has heard stories of your family and she thinks you are like them.”

“The sins of the fathers,” he murmured. “But here I am. I have defeated the dragon … temporarily … and reached you.”

“How long have you been in London?”

”One hour.”

”So you came straight to me.” It was absurd to feel so happy. Nothing had changed … only the fact that he was here.

I had not realized until that moment how deeply he affected me.

“I left Paris soon after you did. I had to return to Carsonne. Raoul had an accident. He fell off his horse.”

“Raoul! Is he allright?”

“It turned out to be not so serious as they thought. He is recovering. I came back to see you and Mademoiselle Cassandra had much to tell me.”

“I see. So you know …”

“I read in the press. This politician’s wife—she is related to you.”

”We were brought up together. You know the story of the Sallongers and the St. Allengeres.”

“There is much I wish to know. I am going to help you.”

”What can you do?”

“I shall find some way. What has happened so far?”

“They are looking for Julia’s murderer.”

“And they suspect… ?”

”I was one of the last to see her alive. It was her brother who found her. He came to his room and she was dead having drunk the sherry which had been intended for him.”

”And he has his enemies?”

“Apparently.”

”And you were one of these?”

“He accused me of being Julia’s husband’s mistress.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And were you?”

“Of course not.”

“I am glad of that. I should have been very angry with you if it had been true.”

”Please don’t be flippant. I cannot endure that. I feel far from flippant.”

“This Charles,” he said, “he was what you call the great lover?”

“You mean, did he have many love affairs? I think he had something of a reputation for that. He and his wife saw each other rarely. He married her for her money and they agreed to live separate lives.”

”Perhaps this was a crime passionnel. Do you know any of his mistresses?”

“I know little of his private life. But there was a woman…”

“Ah, one you know.”

“I heard she visited him. Her name was Madalenna de’ Pucci. I have a picture of her. We were taken together at a function.”

“I should like to see it. Perhaps she knows something of this little matter. It would be worth while rinding out and asking.”

“I don’t think we should find her. She was here … some time ago. She may have gone back to Italy.”

“So she is Italian. They are a very passionate people. Where is the picture? Shall we see it?”

“Stay here. I will get it.”

I was astounded at the effect the picture had on him.

“Madalenna de’ Pucci!” he said. “What an outstandingly beautiful woman.”

I felt angry. I took the picture from him but he took it back and continued to gaze at it.

“You are clearly impressed by her,” I said coldly,

“Yes … impressed. Madalenna de’ Pucci. I think I may have met her in France.”

”I daresay she is a much travelled woman. She was here with her brother… on business.”

“Did you meet the brother?”

“No … no. He was travelling … in the Midlands, I think. She was waiting for him in London.”

“Tell me more of Madalenna de’ Pucci.”

“Do you really find her so interesting?”

“Immensely so.”

“I first met her when there was an accident outside The Silk House. Her carriage was overturned and she sprained her ankle. She came to the house and stayed a few days.”

“When was that?”

”It was just after I was married.”

”So your husband was alive then?”

“He died soon after.”

“You say she stayed in the house with you?”

”Yes, for a few days. She made a great impression on Charles … as she obviously has on you.”

“She is one to make an impression. Go on,”

“Well, Charles was very taken with her. I remember he, with my husband, went to London for the day on business and during that day her brother sent the carriage for her. She was to go back to London as they were leaving for Italy immediately.”

“And you say your husband died soon after that?”

“Very shortly after. I forgot all about Madalenna de’ Pucci then.”

“Naturally. And your husband was found shot, you say.”

“In the forest, yes.”

“With his own gun?”

“Well, with one of the guns from the gun room.”

“And then she returned to London … not long ago.”

“Yes, Charles met her in the street by chance.”

“Fortuitous, eh?”

”He was delighted.”

“I can understand that, cannot you?”

“He was attracted by her as you obviously are.”

He smiled as though well pleased. He could not keep his eyes from the picture.

”How far did this affair between Charles and the beautiful lady go?”

“I don’t know. Julia did mention that she had been at the house to visit him. His rooms could be reached by a rather private staircase … a back staircase which led only to them.”

“So there were two ways to the rooms?”

“Exactly. The rooms were at the end of the first floor corridor. There was a door, I believe, which opened into the sitting room and the back staircase stopped at the dressing room door. I had never been on the staircase but Julia told me about it when Charles went there after his house was burned. She was saying how private he could be.”

“So his house was burned down?”

“Oh yes. He had a narrow escape. He would have been burned to death if his valet had not come back unexpectedly early. He had been drinking heavily, I think … and that was probably why he was trapped.”

“How dramatic! And this poisoned wine … that was in-tended for him. Does it not seem strange that he should have been almost burned to death and then shortly after there should be this attempt to poison him?”

“You think the burning of the house was deliberately planned?”

He looked steadily at me and lifted his shoulders.

I said slowly: “It is like a pattern. There was my husband. I never really believed he killed himself. There was no reason. It was very strange because there was a man … and that was in Italy. …”

“Tell me.”

I reminded him about Lorenzo who had gone into the streets of Florence wearing my husband’s opera cloak and hat and had been stabbed to death. “And then … when we came home Philip died.”

The Comte was thoughtful. “This is interesting. This Lorenzo could have been mistaken for your husband. Then soon after he is shot. This Charles … he is nearly burned to death and saved by his valet. Then he could have been poisoned and is saved by his sister who is killed instead of him. Does it not strike you as strange, Lenore?”

“It is very mysterious.”

“Now what I want to hear is about your politician.”

I told him about our childhood meeting and how we later became good friends.

“How good friends?”

“Rather special good friends.”

“And he was in love with you?”

I nodded.

“And you?”

“I thought it would be good for me … and for Katie … not to be alone.”

“My poor Lenore, so you were lonely.”

“No … no. I had my grandmother. I had my daughter. I had good friends but…”

“And the thriving business. Yes, you had much. But you thought this Drake could make you happier. But he married Julia … and you were hurt and then you came to France with your father … and I found you. It is all becoming very clear to me. I am a little jealous of this Drake.”

“Please, this is too serious a matter for meaningless gallantry.”

“Is that how you regard me … as a flippant gallant?”

“Where are you staying?” I asked.

“At the Park Hotel.”

“And you are … comfortable?”

“I do not know yet. I took my room … I leave my bags and I come at once to you.”

“It was good of you.”

“I will go now. I will see you soon. Do not fret. This will pass. The truth will be discovered.”

“I appreciate your coming,” I said.

”But of course I came.”

He took my hand and kissed it.

When he had gone I realized that he had taken the photograph with him, and that took away the pleasure I had had in seeing him again.

Depression descended on me once more.

How long the days were! I seemed to be walking about in a dream. I was deeply apprehensive.

I had visitors—steely-eyed men who hid their suspicion under cool politeness. The endless questions began again. I could see that they were trying to trap me into betraying something which would assure them of my guilt.

I wondered how long it would be before they came to a definite conclusion.

I believed Drake was undergoing the same sort of interrogation. The papers announced that the police were continuing with their enquiries. There was an account of Drake’s career, of his marriage to Julia, one of the Sallongers, it was stated, a member of the silk manufacturing family; Mr. Charles Sallonger was the one who had revolutionized the silk industry by putting on the market one of the finest silks ever known. There were accounts of how I had married Philip Sallonger who had shot himself shortly after the marriage. They had cast me in a very dramatic role—a woman whose husband had killed himself almost immediately after the marriage must be a femme fatale.

People paused to look at the salon as they passed. I did not go out during the day. It was too embarrassing to do so.

It was comforting to know that Katie was not here. She would be completely ignorant of what was going on and that was how I wanted it to be.

I did not know what would become of me, but I had been made to feel that I was under suspicion. I thanked God for Grand’mere as I had so many times in my life. If anything should happen to me she would look after Katie as well as could be possible in the circumstances. So would Cassie and the Countess. I wished they were both with us now, but I must rejoice that Katie was in their care.

Sometimes I found myself thinking of the Comte. I kept going over in my mind that moment when he had entered the room. What joy that had brought me! I had let my feelings for him go too far. I had pretended that this was not so—but of course I was wrong. I had betrayed myself to myself in those few moments.

I wished I had stayed in France. I wished I had had the courage to continue to see him. Then I should not have been here when this frightening thing had happened. But when I had seen him and learned that he had come to England to see me—in spite of Grand’mere’s disapproval of him—that wild joy had temporarily obliterated everything else and really explained my feelings towards him—and there was no point in denying them.

But he had disappointed me, as I should have known he always would. He could not be faithful even for a short while. While he was saying he had come to see me, he was so taken with the picture of the beautiful Italian that he had forgotten me and my predicament in his admiration for her.

And he had taken the picture.

It was a strange coincidence that he should have known her, but then he was a much travelled man and he had lived on the borders of Italy and would doubtless have been in that country often. They must have met at some gathering for he had recognized her at once—and from that moment it had seemed that the picture obsessed him.

That was how it would always be with him. I had been a fool to let myself dream dreams which had no foundation in reality.

Grand’mere was right. What would it mean with him? A few weeks of happiness … and then he would make the excuses … oh, very gallantly, of course, very suavely—and then off on the next pursuit.

I had not seen him for four days. Why did he not call? He had said he would come and see me … and he had been near.

I must forget him. But how could I?

I felt a kind of obsession. I had to see him. I had to tell him that I was hurt because he had not come to see me as he had promised. It was a humiliating thing to do, but I couldn’t help it. I had to know.

It was dusk. I put on my outdoors clothes and went out. It was not far to the Park Hotel. I slipped in through the swing doors and approached the desk.

“Yes, Madam?” said the clerk.

“I wanted to know if the Comte de Carsonne is in?”

The man looked at me in surprise. “Madam, the Comte left some days ago.”

“Oh,” I said faintly. “I see.”

He consulted the book. “Yes, he left on the afternoon of the 14th.”

It was the day after I had seen him. He had taken the picture and gone back … without even telling me that he was going. He must have gone straight back to the hotel after leaving me and made plans for departure.

I felt desperately unhappy.

It is typical of him! I told myself angrily. But anger did not help me. I felt lost, bewildered, and the clouds of apprehension which had been hanging over me so long seemed heavier and closer than ever. I had never felt so wretched in my life.

Tension was mounting. I endured more visits and more questions. I felt they were closing in on me. I wondered what Drake was feeling.

There was speculation in the press. It was thought that the police would soon be making an announcement. That, I presumed, meant an arrest. Would it be Drake, the husband? Husbands are always suspects on such occasions. Could it be Lenore Sallonger— the ”mysterious widow,” they were calling me—the famous dressmaker whose husband had committed suicide? I was tired of it… tired of it all.

And so it went on.

Grand’mere and I would sit together in the evenings, not bothering to light the gas. We sat in the dark, holding hands sometimes. She, too, had never been so frightened and wretched in her life.

We did not speak of the trouble. Neither of us had anything more to say. She would dwell on the past and tell me little incidents from my childhood, and then suddenly her voice would break and she would be unable to go on.

I used to let my mind wander back to those days in France. I thought of the chateau and wondered what he was doing now and whether he had been successful in his search for Madalenna.

I tried to tell myself that it was for the best that I should learn how he was before I made a fool of myself. Thinking of him was painful so I tried to think of Drake.

Grand’mere, as she often did, seemed to read my thoughts.

“When this is all over,” she said, adding firmly: “as it will be … Drake will be free. In time …”

“I don’t want to think of that, Grand’mere,”

“When the present is hard to bear it is well to look ahead. Trouble doesn’t last forever. This time next year … He is a good man, Lenore, and good men are scarce. He loves you. I know he does. He was rash. He should have spoken about his suspicions of your father. It was foolish of him but we all do foolish things at times. Mon Dieu, poor man, he has paid for his folly. But the days will come when he is free … and then …”

“Grand’mere, please don’t talk of it. I could not marry Drake.”

“That’s nonsense, child. He loves you. He would be the best of husbands. You have suffered a great deal. Philip was good … you could have been so happy with him. You must think no more of the Comte. He is no good to you and no good to any woman.”

“I am not sure of anything, Grand’mere.”

“Of course you are not. This is too close. But when it is over, Drake will be waiting … and this will seem like a nightmare.”

I did not answer. It was no use trying to explain my feelings to Grand’mere. I was not even sure of them myself.

Then the miracle happened.

“New developments in the Aldringham case,” said the headlines. “The police are anxious to meet a woman who visited the house on several occasions. They believe she could help them with their enquiries.”

Two weeks passed, during which there was no mention of the case.

I was not now troubled by callers who wanted me to answer questions. It almost seemed as though the case had been set aside.

Then came that wonderful day when the Comte returned to London. He came to the salon and said he wished to see me … alone.

He managed to evade Grand’mere and when I heard that he was waiting in the reception room I wanted to refuse to see him. How dared he return casually like this after he had left so abruptly! Grand’mere was right. I should not see him. But of course I went down.

There he was suave as ever, smiling, taking my hand, kissing it in the courtly way which I had always found so enchanting.

I said: “So you are back in London?”

”It would appear so,” he said, his eyes mocking—just as they always had during our meetings in France; no one would have thought that I was a woman with a possible charge of murder hanging over me.

“I trust you have had a good stay in France.”

”Most profitable.”

“And you were successful in your search for Madalenna de’ Pucci?”

“Very successful. I could not have guessed how pleasing it would be.”

”Congratulations.”

“Enough,” he said. “I have something to tell you which will be of great interest to you.”

“Regarding you and this lady?”

“Indeed it concerns her. …”

I thought: Oh no. He is just being cruel. He knows my feelings. I have betrayed them. He knows a great deal about women. He just wants to torment me. Charles first… now him.

“It also concerns you … deeply,” he went on. “Shall we be serious? This is a very serious matter.”

“About you and Madalenna de’ Pucci. I don’t…”

“It concerns you, too. Come, sit down, so that I can see you. I have been working hard on your behalf. It saddened me to see you as you were … and as you are now. So I determined to make you as you were before. So I went to work. First let us take the beautiful Italian. I told you I had met her before.”

“Yes, you did mention that. You took the picture of her.”

“It was also a picture of you, was it not? Now listen to me. I was greatly interested to see the lady because I knew her … but not as Madalenna de’ Pucci. That, I have proved now, was not her real name.”

“Who is she then?”

“She is, in a manner of speaking, a connection of yours. Her name is Adele St. Allengere.”

I stared at him in astonishment.

“You see it was too fortuitous. People are never careful enough. There are these little slip-ups and these result in the big scheme falling to the ground. You have seen something of life in Villers-Mure and in Carsonne. We are a fiery people. You know of the feud between my house and that of St. Allengere. Vendetta. It is a common word on the border because of our volatile neighbours. We love and hate … vehemently. There is much to tell you. I began to piece things together when you told me so much, and because I did not wish to see you unhappy living under a cloud of suspicion as you would have done perhaps all your life, I determined to unravel the mystery. Also, it intrigued me. I have put the confession in the hands of the French police who are now in touch with those in this country. Soon the mystery will be revealed but I wished to tell you first.”

“You are keeping me in suspense.”

“You deserve it for thinking I had left you to go in search of the beautiful Italian. You did believe that, did you not? And it was true. But not for the reason you had decided on. You were most displeased.”

“Please tell me what all this is about?”

“It is all about Vendetta and a wicked old man who is now considerably chastened. You were right. I had gone back to France to look for Adele St. Allengere. I was determined to have the whole story from her. It is not difficult for me. I have many people working for me. I told you we were feudal in our part of the world. My word is law and if I say, ‘Find Adele St. Allengere,’ she will be found.”

“I still can’t understand what all this is about.”

“I am telling it badly. I will begin at the beginning. Two brothers went to France when their father was alive. They were Charles the elder, and Philip, who was to become your husband. Charles was the lover of pleasure. Philip was seriously interested in the business of producing silk. They visited Villers-Mure where they were accepted as distant connections of the family … the Huguenot branch. The old man—stern bigot that he was—was not pleased about this, and the displeasure of the Catholic St. Allengeres towards the Huguenots has lasted for three hundred years. But they were members of the family; moreover he wanted to know how the silk industry was progressing in England. So they were accepted into the house. He saw that Philip was the one who cared about the business. Charles he had dismissed as no good.

“Now, he had had a group of men working for some time on a special kind of silk which was to be different from any other kind which had ever been produced. It was very secret. The old man’s granddaughter Heloi’se was being courted by one of the men who was working on this project so that she was aware of what was going on and he gave her access to the particular section where the research work was in progress. This would have been forbidden had it been known. Charles Sallonger was a very plausible young man, handsome too, apparently; he was different from anyone Heloise had ever known before. She fell in love with him. She must have talked to him about the secret work which was being done and he prevailed on her to show him the formula. This, poor lovesick girl, she did. Then … the brothers departed. Heloise realized that she had—as they say—given herself to a philanderer. More than that she had betrayed her family’s secret to him. When it was learned that the English had put this special silk on the market and claimed credit for having discovered the method of producing it, the St. Allengere household was in turmoil. Unable to bear the shame of having betrayed her family to a false lover, Heloise drowned herself in the river which wound its way through the grounds of the house. She left a note, however, in which she explained what she had done, but she omitted to mention her lover’s name. As Charles had appeared to be indifferent to business, it was naturally concluded that Philip was the thief and the false lover. You now know something of what the old man is like. He demanded vengeance and set out to get it.”

“So Philip was to have been murdered. …”

”Yes. The first attempt went wrong—in the case of the Italian Lorenzo. The overturned carriage was a way of getting into the house and when she was there Adele with her servant stole the gun from the gun room. They took it with them when they left. Then one of Alphonse’s hired killers was commanded to lure Philip into the forest and shoot him. This is what he did making it appear suicide.”

“It is all becoming horribly clear.”

“Then, recently, the fact that Charles was the culprit was revealed.”

“I know,” I cried, “I told Rene in the graveyard.”

“So it was decided that Charles should pay the full penalty. Adele was despatched to England once more. She had ill luck from her point of view because the fire she started did not have the desired effect on account of the valet’s returning early. Adele had to try again.”

“So she poisoned the wine. How can you be sure of this?”

“I had it from Adele’s own lips.”

“Why did she tell you?”

“When I saw the picture I recognized her immediately. I guessed she was up to some mischief here. I was intrigued by the story of the unfortunate Lorenzo and the fact that shortly after Adele’s visit, your husband died. Then, of course, Charles’s life was in danger twice after her visits. I know the way the St. Allengeres work. I knew she was up to no good.”

“Then you have no proof.”

“But I have. I have Adele’s written confession.”

“Do you mean she gave it to you?”

“I am very determined when I decide on a certain action. I was sure that the St. Allengeres had had a hand in this. It is just the way the old man would work. I will not be over modest. We de la Tours have ruled our neighbourhood for years. In the old days we were all powerful. Times have changed but customs cling. I wanted Adele brought to me and my wishes were obeyed.”

”You mean you held her prisoner?”

“I did. I demanded the truth. I let her think that I knew a great deal more than I did. And while I had her there in my castle I went to see the old man.” His eyes glistened. “It was a great occasion for me. Face to face with the old villain himself. We were two titans … though you will doubtless think me immodest for saying it. I come from a long line of ruling Comtes and he was the head of the St. Allengeres who hold the none-less-kinglike sway in their little terrain. Villers-Mure is like a little state within the bigger state of Carsonne; but it is independent of Carsonne … like Burgundy and France of old. That is one of the reasons why he hates my family. We have always been determined that he shall not encroach further.”

“So you revelled in the confrontation.”

“I did. He was speechless with rage. I accused him of murder. I told him he had broken one of the commandments … the most important of them all. He had sold his soul for Vendetta. I explained the innocence of Philip whom he had killed, for his was the ultimate responsibility and those who had performed the deed were acting only on his orders. He was the one who would have to face his Maker. He shouted that these men had come to his house as guests and one of them had replied to his hospitality by stealing an important formula and seducing his granddaughter. The righteous God would call that justice. The French had done all the work on an important project and the perfidious English had stolen the secret when it was on the point of perfection, seducing a daughter of the house of St. Allengere in order to steal it. The punishment was deserved. I had to agree with what he said. It was the kind of action the Comtes of Carsonne would have taken.

” ‘But,’ I pointed out, ‘you killed an innocent man, and for that you will have to answer in Heaven.’ He wouldn’t believe it until I told him that Adele had confessed all to me. He shouted at me, abusing me, accusing me of seducing Adele. It was very strange that a man incapable of love will look for it in everything that happens. I left him raging, but he was frightened. I had seen his face grow ashen at the thought of Heaven’s revenge. He sees himself burning in Hell in spite of what he would call his good life and all because he has committed the one great sin of murder.”

He paused and I could see how he had relished that interview.

“That night,” he went on, “he was taken ill. He had a stroke. He had never been so shocked in his life. He lived according to his own rules and he would tell you he was a just man. Sin had to be paid for and he was the judge of us all—a sort of Commissioner under God, but only just. He had pictured his God of vengeance with the heavenly choir singing praises of the virtuous Alphonse St. Allengere–and hell fire for the rest of us. And now he had committed a mortal sin. He had caused an innocent man to be murdered. There would be no compromise. In spite of a life of impeccable virtue which had brought misery to thousands, he himself was among the sinners. It had been too much for him. He might have died with his sin upon him. Now he was fighting desperately to regain his old standing with the Almighty. I have hinted that we shall expect him to expiate his sin. The change in him was a miracle in itself.”

”You are gloating over him.”

“Of course. This is the justice in which he has always believed. We shall use his fears to good advantage. He is to take full responsibility for what has happened … for the death of your husband … for the death of Julia Aldringham. He is responsible. Those who committed the crime are merely his puppets.”

“Will that exonerate them?”

“Not entirely. But mercy will be shown to them, I am sure. I do not know what will happen … whether Adele will be brought to England to stand trial or not. Perhaps so. Whether they will insist on the old man’s revealing the name of the man who shot your husband … that I cannot tell. All I know at the moment is that that is the story and that you are no longer under suspicion … nor is Mr. Drake Aldringham. Your police know of this. Perhaps the whole story will be disclosed … perhaps not. It may be that they will just allow the details to be told which seem right to them. As for Monsieur Charles, I think he may be in trouble. There could well be a case brought by the House of St. Allengere concerning the theft of the silk formula … which could plunge him into financial disaster … heavy damages and so on. Who can say at this stage. But it will be no more than he deserves for it was his action which started this murderous train of events. But that is not our concern. Have I made you happy now?”

“Just now I am bewildered. I do not know what to believe.”

“Do you mean that you doubt my words?”

“Of course not, but it is bewildering to learn so much in such a short time.”

“It took little time to tell but a long time to act out. So you are very grateful to me, eh?”

“If… this is all true …”

“Have I not told you?”

“Yes… yes … but…”

“Well?”

“I don’t know how to express my thanks for all the trouble you have taken.”

”I will tell you how.”

I looked at him questioningly.

“Very soon,” he went on, “I shall show you.”

I thought of Grand’mere and her warning against this man.

I said: “I want to tell my grandmother what you have told me. She has suffered a great deal of anxiety. I must tell her at once.”

“Yes, you must tell the good dragon. Tell her what I have discovered. She breathes fire every time my name is mentioned, I know. It would be pleasant if she did not regard me with such animosity. Please tell her what I have told you. Make her see that the trouble is past.”

“I must go to her at once.”

“That is what you wish, so be it. Tomorrow some of what I have told you will be confirmed and I shall come and see you again. I can see the headlines … ‘The Silk Vendetta’… what a story for them. Au revoir then, Madame Sallonger, till tomorrow. ”

Grand’mere was incredulous. “Do you believe this?” she asked.

“He assured me it is true. He has Adele’s confession. It fits in with everything.”

“It may be that he tells this story to delude you.”

“Why should he?”

“Don’t forget I was brought up in the shadow of his family. I know the de la Tours… all of them. In the old days they were often at war with the kings of France. They ruled their land as despotically as ever the kings did theirs. They want something and they think it is their right to take it. And your grandfather is such another. Ruthless, demanding vengeance and turning others into murderers to suit his own ends. If it is true what you tell me …”

“Grand’mere, I feel it must be true.”

“Then you and Drake are free. He … the Comte knows that. Why should he do this? He knows about you and Drake, doesn’t he?”

“He wants to see justice done.”

“The de la Tours always had one motive—to serve themselves. He must be very interested in you.”

“I think he was intrigued when he saw the picture of Adele and wanted to find out why she was posing as someone else.”

She looked at me shrewdly. “Drake Aldringham is the one for you,” she said firmly.

“After all this I feel we could not be together. He might feel the same.”

“No, no. He loves you. He will give you everything to make you happy. He is a good man—a man you can trust. You would always be sure of him. The best thing in life is peace of mind. He would give you that.”

Would he? I wondered. If I married Drake I would always feel that some part of me was at Carsonne. That man had laid a spell on me and nothing would ever be the same again.

“I know you are right in a way …”I said.

“Then be sensible.”

”It wouldn’t be fair to Drake.”

“Tell me the truth. Surely you have always been able to do that with me. You are bemused by Gaston de la Tour. He seems to you a figure of power and strength; and he offers excitement … romance, I suppose. I know his reputation. It is the same as that of his forebears. They were never faithful husbands. But he would never marry you. The de la Tours have always married those of their own kind. He would tire of you quickly. It is their way of life. For centuries they have lived like feudal kings … petty monarchs even when there were no longer kings of France. Come out of your day dream. Drake is waiting for you. I know a good man when I see one and Drake Aldringham is one.” I did not answer. Common sense told me that she was right.

Later that day the news was out. The mystery was solved. “The Silk Vendetta” proclaimed the headlines. “The long standing feud between two branches of the same family. The story of Sallon Silk which should have been St. Allengere Silk.”

There was speculation everywhere. Sallongers would be in trouble. This would ruin them. The French firm would demand crippling damages; but the main interest was in the solution of the mystery.

Drake came to see me. I was dreading the meeting.

He took both my hands and looked earnestly at me. He was like a man who has suddenly cast off a crippling burden.

“I feel free, Lenore,” he said. “I can’t get used to it.”

But I was not free. I was caught up in a web from which I could not escape—a web which Gaston de la Tour had woven round me. I knew that I was foolish. I knew that a peaceful dignified life could lie ahead of me with Drake—but always my thoughts would be in Carsonne.

Drake went on: “This means so much to us, Lenore.”

I was silent. I could not meet his eyes.

He said: “You don’t want to marry me, do you? Is it this Comte? He went to a great deal of trouble. Are you going to marry him?”

“Marry him! He has never suggested such a thing. Drake, I’m sorry. I’m so fond of you, but I have a feeling that it would not be right. You made one mistake. You must not make another.”

“With you, Lenore, I feel I could face anything. It won’t be easy after all this. Even though one is shown not to be guilty it is never wholly accepted. Perhaps you will change your mind.”

“Drake, please understand.”

“I do understand. I know we should have a good life together.”

“People would always remember that we had been suspected of being lovers while Julia was alive. They would always believe it of us. It would harm your career.”

“We could live that down. We could fight together. I would get back everything I have lost… if only we were together.”

I nodded. I thought perhaps I might.

The next day the Comte called. He took my hand and kissed it looking at me with that half mocking expression which I knew so well.

“So,” he said, “the news is out. It made exciting reading. The whole of London is reading of the Silk Vendetta. How does it feel to be one of the central figures in such a story?”

“Embarrassing.”

“Believe me, it will be forgotten in a few weeks. Something else will turn up and lo! … Who are these Sallongers? It will not be over for Monsieur Charles, of course. He will have to pay rather highly for his sins, I do believe. But why should we concern ourselves with that gentleman? I have come to tell you that I have decided to marry. I thought you should be the first to know.”

I hoped I did not show my feelings. I was suddenly so wretched. I should have guessed, of course. It would be some member of the old French aristocracy … someone whose family had survived the holocaust of the Revolution as his had done.

“Yes,” he went on. “Raoul has been very ill. He nearly died in that fall. It set me thinking. I used to feel I had done my duty by providing the heir. But the family needs more than one heir … life being so precarious.”

“I see. So you have decided to marry again?”

He nodded. “We have always had marriages of convenience in our family. It was considered a duty. Noblesse oblige and that kind of thing. And now the time has come for me to contract such a marriage. I must first of all consult you.”

“Why?”

“Because it concerns you, of course.”

He put his arm about me and held me tightly against him. “What suits rny convenience has always been my chief concern … and this would suit me very well. What do you say? Could you give up your great business interests to become the Comtesse de Carsonne? Could you change your modish style of life for one of feudal customs? It is no use saying No. I warn you in advance. I have promised Raoul that he shall have the company of the delectable Mademoiselle Katie each day. What do you say?”

“You are asking me. …”

”Who else could possibly suit my convenience but the one who inspires me with emotions which I have never felt before? It is love, I suppose.”

Waves of great joy swept over me. I felt so happy. But I thought: This can’t be true.

”My dear one,” he said, ”you do not look overjoyed.”

“I am too overjoyed to feel anything but shock.”

“So I have your agreement?”

“You … you have made up your mind.”

“How well you know me! You would not have been allowed to refuse. It is well to understand the man you are going to marry.”

I laid my head against him and let myself become suffused with happiness.

“The good Grand’mere must be told,” he said. “The chateau is vast. There will be room for her. She must be with you for I know what she means to you. Besides, with her I am not the chosen one. I look forward to skirmishes with that redoubtable lady. We have only one thing in common, she and I, but that is the most important thing in the world to us—our sweet Lenore. She will do her best to dissuade you, you know.”

“I know.”

“She will tell you that you are making a big mistake. You should take the virtuous Drake. You are going to a life which is different from anything you have known, with a man who is not of her choice. What shall you say, Lenore?”

“I shall say that is where I want to go … and what I will find will be what I could never have come to miss.”

“That is what I hoped to hear,” he said. “Now let us go together and face the dragon.”