These Old Shades (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 1)

‘You thought – you thought it would be better not to know,’ Madame faltered. ‘But where did that man find my little one? How could he know – ?’

‘He is the devil himself. I believe there is naught he does not know. But if I can only get the girl out of his hands he can do nothing. I am convinced he has no proof.’

Madame began to pace the room, twisting her hands together.

‘I cannot bear to think of her in his power!’ she exclaimed. ‘Who knows what he will do to her? She’s so young, and so beautiful –’

‘She’s fond enough of Avon,’ Saint-Vire said, and laughed shortly. ‘And she’s well able to care for herself, little vixen!’

Madame stood still, hope dawning in her face.

‘Henri, if Avon has no proof how can he know that Léonie is my child? Does he not perhaps think that she is – what they are saying? Is that not possible?’

‘It is possible,’ Saint-Vire admitted. ‘And yet, from things he has said to me, I feel sure that he has guessed.’

‘And Armand!’ she cried. ‘Will he not guess? Oh mon Dieu, mon Dieu, what can we do? Was it worth it, Henri? Oh, was it worth it, just to spite Armand?’

‘I don’t regret it!’ snapped Saint-Vire. ‘What I have done I have done, and since I cannot now undo it I’ll not waste my time wondering if it was worth it! You’ll be good enough to show your face abroad, madame. I do not desire to give Avon more cause for suspicion.’

‘But what will he do?’ Madame asked. ‘Why does he wait like this? What is in his mind?’

‘Sangdieu, madame, if I knew do you suppose that I should stand thus idle?’

‘Does – does she know, think you?’

‘No, I’d stake mine honour she does not know.’

Madame laughed wildly.

‘Your honour! Your honour! Grand Dieu, you can speak of that?’

He took an angry step towards her; her fingers were about the door-handle.

‘It was dead when you made me give up my child!’ she cried. ‘You will see your name dragged in the mud! And mine! And mine! Oh, can you do nothing?’

‘Be silent, madame!’ he hissed. ‘Do you want the lackeys to hear you?’

She started, and cast a quick, furtive glance round.

‘Discovery – will kill me, I think,’ she said, quite quietly, and went out.

Saint-Vire flung himself into a chair, and stayed there, frowning. To him came presently a lackey.

‘Well?’ Saint-Vire shot the word out.

‘Monsieur, there is a lady who desires speech with you.’

‘A lady?’ Saint-Vire was surprised. ‘Who?’

‘Monsieur, I do not know. She awaits you in the smaller salon, and she says that she will see you.’

‘Of what like is she?’

‘Monsieur, she is veiled.’

‘An intrigue, enfin !’ Saint-Vire rose. ‘In the smaller salon?’

‘Yes, monsieur.’