But he was not. Instead his mind seethed with doubts and forebodings. The pros and cons of annulment—elopement, annulment—elopement, continued to shuttle back and forth in it at a furious tempo. He was still convinced that an annulment would bring them greater happiness in the long run, yet he knew that if Angela persisted in her new determination there was little hope of her being granted one. It was largely in the hope that reflection and the sobering influence of her parents might, perhaps, cause her again to change her mind that had led him to stipulate that she should spend a month with them. But he greatly doubted if it would. When she had said that she felt like a tigress who had tasted blood, she had put the situation in a nut-shell. And he was not slow to recognise that, as far as she was concerned, he too had become a man-eater overnight.
Strive as he would to prevent it, disturbing visions of their life together flitted through his thoughts. To preserve the conventions as long as possible he would insist on their sailing for America in separate ships; but once the divorce was through there could be no turning back. Owing to his title and the notoriety resulting from his part in the de Vendôme conspiracy, there could be no hope of keeping their civil marriage quiet. The news of it would be flashed round the world, and the more scurrilous section of the Press would not scruple to inform its readers that Nevada divorces were the last resort of couples who were unable to secure legality for their unions in any accepted way. That would be noted by the entire official world, and bar them for good from every Embassy, Government reception and party at which even minor Royalties were to be present.
It would be three or four years at least before they would be able to live that down sufficiently to show their faces again in Europe. And what sort of life could they live in the meantime? They could go for a while to Honolulu or Tahiti, as Angela had suggested, and visit other outposts of civilisation, such as those in the East Indies. But on every ship in which they sailed there would be some unpleasantness owing to righteous matrons showing that they regarded Angela as a ‘scarlet woman’. And the only companionship they could hope for in the places where they stayed would be that of couples with dubious morals, adventurers, remittance men, and third-rate social climbers who would overcome any scruples for the sake of being seen with a Countess and a Count.
He was still harrowed by such thoughts when Angela returned. She had not been away for more than six minutes, but the moment she re-entered the room he saw that something had gone radically wrong. Her big brown eyes were wide with fright, the pink flush had faded from her cheeks and in her hand, now crumpled, she still held the letter.
‘What’s happened?’ he asked in swift alarm.
‘Gabriel!’ The word seemed to rasp in her throat. ‘He … he’s killed himself.’
‘Mort de Dieu! How?’
‘With that long steel paper knife that he always kept on his desk. He must have held the point to his heart, then deliberately fallen on it. He had rolled over on his back and the thick bone handle was sticking up out of his chest.’
De Quesnoy gave a slight shrug. ‘Neither of us is a hypocrite so we need make no pretence of grief. Anyway, he is out of all his troubles now.’
‘But we are not! Oh, Armand, how I wish that you had listened to me last night, and not gone to him.’
‘Why? Do you suggest that I drove him to it?’
‘No, no; not that! He had so many troubles, and he was half out of his mind already. The thought of the duel, prison, bankruptcy, disgrace, would have continued to prey upon it. Since he has taken this way out, you may be sure that he would have done so as soon as some other crisis arose that he felt he could not surmount.’
De Quesnoy frowned. ‘At least I am responsible for having administered to him the coup de grâce.’
‘Yes; I suppose that’s true. And both of us must pay a heavy penalty for it.’
‘My love, you have nothing to reproach yourself with, and I—well, it weighs little on my conscience. After all, had I not gone in to him, neither of us would have come back here later, and, for one reason or another, many more months might have elapsed before you felt free for us to start a new life together.’
‘Armand! Armand! Where are your wits?’ Her cry was one of despair. ‘Do you not see that his dead body now lies between us?’
‘I don’t understand. Surely you don’t … you can’t mean that you’ll have no more to do with me because it was my threats that caused him to take his life?’
‘No, my dear; no.’ She flung wide her hands and her words poured out in a torrent. ‘But do you not see what will happen if I now go to England? In an hour or so someone will find his body. The police will be called in and will question all the servants. Octave, good man that he is, saved you last night by coming to me; but you cannot expect him to withhold from the police the fact that you were in the house and that you had a violent quarrel with Gabriel. My maid, Lucille, knows that too, because she was with me when Octave came up to my room. Once the police have heard their stories it is certain they will jump to the conclusion that Gabriel’s death was not suicide, but murder. That, having threatened him, you left the house, but returned later and killed him.’
‘Mon Dieu!’ de Quesnoy gasped. ‘I believe you’re right.’
‘I’m sure of it. And their least doubt would be swept aside by the fact that I have disappeared. Lucille knows that I have been in love with you for years. She is a loyal girl, but under cross-examination she may break down. Anyhow, Gabriel’s death and my flight to London are bound to be connected. They are certain to assume that you killed him to get me and that I agreed to run away with you. Then your situation will be just as it was before François de Vendôme cleared you of shooting the police at Versailles. They will get a warrant of extradition. Wherever we go we shall be hunted. We would never dare to settle down anywhere from fear that one day a hand would be laid on your shoulder, and that you would be dragged back here to the guillotine.’
The Count clenched his fists and shook them. ‘But this is terrible—terrible! Are we so utterly cursed that we must resign ourselves to separation for ever?’
‘Oh, God forbid! But we must give up all the plans we’ve made if there is to be any hope at all of our making a happy life together sometime in the future.’
‘That can never be, as long as I have this new charge of murder hanging over me. Since I am innocent it would be better that I should stay and face it, even if that does mean my receiving a prison sentence on account of the other business.’
‘No, darling, no. Do you not see that by staying I can prevent a charge of murder ever being brought against you. If I go to bed in my room before the servants are up, no one will ever know that I spent the night here. They will come up to tell me of Gabriel’s death as soon as his body is found, and I shall be on the scene when the police arrive. My presence will eliminate the principal motive for murder. No one can suggest that you killed Gabriel during your quarrel with him, because both Octave and I saw him alive after you had left the house. I shall tell the police of Gabriel’s money difficulties, about his embezzling the funds of the Ligue, about his impending duel and about his illicit relations with Clothilde. No one else can do that before they can even form a theory about his death. But I can. And when I have done they will have no reason to suspect that it is anything but a clear case of suicide. That is why I must remain here.’
Breathless, she paused for a second, then, fighting back her tears, she added, ‘But if I am to save you I must go at once. And so must you. If we are ever to live down the curse that seems to have been put upon our love, neither of us dare waste another moment.’
As she turned away, he caught her by the arm and cried, ‘Wait! We can snatch one! My apparent danger has blinded us to the thing that concerns us above all else. Gabriel is dead, darling. Dead! Do you realise what that means? Handle the police as you suggest and we’ll have nothing to fear. Within a month their inquiry will be closed and you’ll be free to come to London. We have no need to t
alk of annulments or elopements any longer. After a decent interval we can be married with wedding bells and live happily ever after.’
A Note on the Author
DENNIS WHEATLEY
Dennis Wheatley (1897 – 1977) was an English author whose prolific output of stylish thrillers and occult novels made him one of the world's best-selling writers from the 1930s through the 1960s.
Wheatley was the eldest of three children, and his parents were the owners of Wheatley & Son of Mayfair, a wine business. He admitted to little aptitude for schooling, and was expelled from Dulwich College, London. In 1919 he assumed management of the family wine business but in 1931, after a decline in business due to the depression, he began writing.
During the Second World War, Wheatley was a member of the London Controlling Section, which secretly coordinated strategic military deception and cover plans. His literary talents gained him employment with planning staffs for the War Office. He wrote numerous papers for the War Office, including suggestions for dealing with a German invasion of Britain.
Dennis Wheatley died on 11th November 1977. During his life he wrote over 70 books and sold over 50 million copies.
Discover books by Dennis Wheatley published by Bloomsbury Reader at
www.bloomsbury.com/DennisWheatley
Duke de Richleau
The Forbidden Territory
The Devil Rides Out
The Golden Spaniard
Three Inquisitive People
Strange Conflict
Codeword Golden Fleece
The Second Seal
The Prisoner in the Mask
Vendetta in Spain
Dangerous Inheritance
Gateway to Hell
Gregory Sallust
Black August
Contraband
The Scarlet Impostor
Faked Passports
The Black Baroness
V for Vengeance
Come into My Parlour
The Island Where Time Stands Still
Traitors’ Gate
They Used Dark Forces
The White Witch of the South Seas
Julian Day
The Quest of Julian Day
The Sword of Fate
Bill for the Use of a Body
Roger Brook
The Launching of Roger Brook
The Shadow of Tyburn Tree
The Rising Storm
The Man Who Killed the King
The Dark Secret of Josephine
The Rape of Venice
The Sultan’s Daughter
The Wanton Princess
Evil in a Mask
The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware
The Irish Witch
Desperate Measures
Molly Fountain
To the Devil a Daughter
The Satanist
Lost World
They Found Atlantis
Uncharted Seas
The Man Who Missed the War
Espionage
Mayhem in Greece
The Eunuch of Stamboul
The Fabulous Valley
The Strange Story of Linda Lee
Such Power is Dangerous
The Secret War
Science Fiction
Star of Ill-Omen
Black Magic
The Haunting of Toby Jugg
The KA of Gifford Hillary
Unholy Crusade
Short Stories
Mediterranean Nights
Gunmen, Gallants and Ghosts
This electronic edition published in 2013 by Bloomsbury Reader
Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square,
London WC1B 3DP
First published in 1957 by Arrow Books
Copyright © 1957 Dennis Wheatley
All rights reserved
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make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means
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publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication
may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
The moral right of the author is asserted.
eISBN: 9781448212644
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