An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition (95 page)

‘To see Your Highness.
Monsieur
regrets if it is an inopportune moment, but he will not keep Your Highness more than a few minutes.’

‘Very well, show him in,’ the Rajah said.

As he waited, he frowned. What could the Police want with him? He could think of nothing in which he might have contravened the laws of the Principality.

The door opened again and
Monsieur
Gutier came into the room. He was a dapper little man, who looked his best in the spectacular blue and white uniform of the Monte Carlo Police.

‘You wish to see me?’ the Rajah asked.

‘I must apologise if I am disturbing Your Highness,’ he answered. But there is a small matter on which I should be grateful for your help.’

He drew from his breast pocket a leather wallet.

‘I have here,’ he said, his voice solemn and slightly pompous, ‘the personal effects of a man who, most unfortunately was found dead in the Casino Gardens the night before last’

‘Murder or suicide?’ the Rajah asked with a faint sneer.

He was well aware how much the authorities disliked either occurring in the precincts of Monte Carlo.

‘We assume it to have been suicide,’
Monsieur
Gutier replied.

‘I suppose, as usual, he had lost all his money at the tables?’ the Rajah asked.

‘I should hardly imagine the gentleman in question had much money to lose.’

There was a reproach in the Detective’s voice, as if he resented the Rajah’s instantaneous assumption that the Casino was to blame. ‘At the same time, Your Highness may be able to tell us more about the deceased.’

‘I?’ the Rajah ejaculated. ‘Who was he?’

‘A man named Henry Dulton.’

‘I have never heard of him!’

‘Indeed!’

Monsieur
Gutier’s tone was slightly sceptical.

‘Why should you think that I had?’ the Rajah enquired.

‘There was a letter in this wallet addressed to Your Highness. Perhaps you would like to read it.’

He held out a sheet of paper and the Rajah took it. The spidery, tiny writing was easier to read than Stella’s had been and he read quickly,

To His Highness, The Rajah of Jehangar.

Your Highness,

I understand you are interested in the identity of the lady staying at the Hôtel de Paris and registered as Mademoiselle Fântóme. I can give you the information you require. Should you be sufficiently interested to persuade me to divulge it, I will call at your convenience.

I beg to remain,

Your Highness’s most obedient servant,

Henry Dulton.

The Rajah handed the note back to the Chief.

‘I personally have no knowledge of the man,’ he said, ‘but I think one of my
Aides-de-Camp
may have got in touch with him. He spoke to me of someone who could obtain information regarding the lady in question. You would wish to see him?’

‘I would be grateful if Your Highness would allow me to do so.’

‘I will have you shown to his sitting room,’ the Rajah said, then paused before ringing the bell. ‘It is a pity the man died before he could give me the information I required.’

‘A great pity, Your Highness. I regret that we cannot help you in this matter.
Mademoiselle Fântóme
and the lady with her,
Madame Secret,
are not known to us. Several people have already made discreet enquiries, for the two ladies have aroused much curiosity in Monte Carlo.’

‘It is unfortunate that Mr. Dulton – or whoever he might be – died quite so quickly,’ the Rajah said. ‘You are sure that it was suicide?’

‘Quite sure, Your Highness. The pistol with which he killed himself lay beside him, and the bullet in his head had obviously been fired by that very weapon.’

‘Convincing evidence, of course. There was nothing else of interest in his possession?’

Monsieur
Gutier shrugged his shoulders.

‘Very few things, Your Highness. Only this wallet and I am afraid there is nothing here which might help us. Just some of his own visiting cards and a few others advertising places of amusement in Paris.’

Monsieur
Gutier opened the wallet as he spoke and, pulling out come of its contents, laid them on the writing table.

‘I gather that Mr. Dulton was what one might call a tout,’ he said primly. For instance, there are a number of cards here from 5
Rue de Roi.
Your Highness has doubtless heard of the establishment, its reputation is well known. Henry Dulton would have received a commission on the introduction of clients. We shall make enquiries in Paris, but I doubt if they can he of any assistance with regard to his death.’

The Rajah picked up one of the cards which the Chief indicated. It was a plain piece of pasteboard with the words
‘5 Rue de Roi’
written across it and at the top left hand corner a single sentence,
‘La Maison plus chic de tout Paris’.
In the bottom right hand corner in very small type were the words ‘
Madame
Bleuet’.

The Rajah gave an exclamation,

‘
Madame
Bleuet!’ he said excitedly. ‘
Madame
Bleuet! I never forget a face, never!’

11

The
Restaurant des Fleurs
was having a Gala evening and all the most distinguished visitors to Monte Carlo were seated in its big dining room, the windows of which overlooked the sea. There were flowers everywhere, flowers artistically arranged on every table, flowers decorating the walls and hanging in twisted garlands from the ceiling.

Every woman had been given a bouquet on arrival, a small, beautifully arranged posy of scented flowers set in a holder of white perforated paper, and each male guest had received a buttonhole. These, combined with the variegated colours of the ladies’ dresses and jewels, their sequin-sprinkled fans and shimmering head dresses, produced a scintillating effect of colour and of gaiety.

On one side of the Restaurant there was a garden where the guests could wander and cool themselves after dancing.

This, too, had been turned into a fairyland of enchantment. Coloured Chinese lanterns hung from every tree, flickering candle lights in coloured glass containers decorated the edges of the paths. It was all very seductive, and at the end of a melodious waltz many couples disappeared from the crowded Restaurant out into the soft shadows of the garden.

Mistral, sitting alone with Aunt Emilie, wished she had someone to dance with, someone who would take her into the garden so that she could see closer the wonderland of lanterns and fairy lights and not have only to guess at their beauty from a table inside the Restaurant.

Everyone she knew by sight in Monte Carlo was present tonight, and the habitués of the Casino as well as those staying at the Hotel seemed to have moved over in a body.

Even the old Countess Kisselev whom Mistral had helped to her carriage that first night in the Casino and who had distressed her so unnecessarily by her tears was with a party of young people.

Sir Robert was also in the Restaurant, but his table was a long way from Mistral’s and only occasionally could she catch a glimpse of his profile. He was with Lady Violet, of course, who was wearing a striking gown of mauve crepeline trimmed with sprays of ivy. Prince Nikolai was entertaining a dozen friends at the most important table in the room, and not far from him was the Rajah of Jehangar. The Rajah was with two of his own countrymen and Mistral wondered why he was not accompanied by the pretty lady to whom she had spoken in the Cloakroom of the Casino the night before.

She had looked forward to seeing Stella again, and at the same time had been extremely apprehensive as to what Aunt Emilie would say when she bowed and smiled, as she had every intention of doing. She had been ready to defend her reasons for acknowledging an acquaintance she had made in so unconventional a manner, and was strangely disappointed that the necessity did not arise.

Everyone seemed to be gay and happy tonight, and Mistral, watching them, thought wistfully that it would be amusing to be with someone of her own age.

But having formed the thought, she instantly rebuked herself for being ungrateful. She was exceptionally fortunate to be in Monte Carlo at all, she told herself, and it was kind of Aunt Emilie, however irritable she might be at times, to have brought her here, to have given her so many expensive clothes, and to afford her the privilege of watching many of the most distinguished people in Europe.

Impulsively she turned to her aunt.

‘I feel I have not thanked you sufficiently, Aunt Emilie, for all you have done for me,’ she said sweetly. ‘Why, I might at this moment be still at the Convent. I should be in bed by now in the darkness, for we were not allowed to read after nine o’clock. But instead, I am here – listening to this wonderful music, watching all these exciting people! I am grateful really I am. Thank you so very, very much.’

Emilie glanced at her in what seemed to Mistral a curiously speculative manner, then she said sourly,

‘Unfortunately your gratitude does not succeed in enabling you to obey my instructions.’

Mistral’s eyes widened.

‘What instructions, Aunt Emilie? I try always to do what you tell me. Have I forgotten something?’

‘No, you have not forgotten what I have told you,’ Emilie said. ‘You are merely inept – perhaps stupid is the right word at carrying out my commands.’

Her tone was scornful and Mistral felt the blood rising in her cheeks.

‘I am sorry, Aunt Emilie, if I have failed to do something you required of me. Will you not explain what it is?’

‘You know the answer quite well,’ Emilie snapped. ‘You have two eyes and they are not blind. You can see the Prince over there. He is entertaining a party of friends. There are women in the party, but are you among them? No! Why has he not invited you?’

There was a long pause while Emilie waited for an answer, her eyes dark, her lips pursed together.

‘I – I suppose because he did not want – me,’ Mistral faltered at last.

‘Why not?’ Emilie inquired. ‘I left you alone together this afternoon while we were watching the yacht racing. I thought that you could not fail to entice him into offering us hospitality either for tonight or tomorrow. What did you talk about?’

Mistral looked down and crumbled a roll of bread between her fingers. She remembered how embarrassed she had been by her aunt’s deliberate and all too obvious manoeuvring to attract the attention of the Prince.

There had been a great many people watching the yacht racing and the Prince, whose own yacht was one of the competitors, was obviously far too interested in the races to take even a perfunctory notice of the many beautifully dressed women crowding the terrace.

Other men behaved very differently. They turned their backs on the sea and even went as far as to focus their binoculars on a pretty woman’s face or a well turned ankle.

The Prince was concentrating on the races, and Mistral thought that only Aunt Emilie would have been brave – or should she say brazen? – enough deliberately to force him to acknowledge their presence.

She had moved down the terrace, pushing her way through the crowd until finally she reached the Prince’s side. As he stared through his glasses, oblivious of everything save the little white yachts racing across the blue sea, she said in her most ingratiating tone,

‘Good afternoon, Your Serene Highness. Would you be kind enough to explain to us the intricacies of this race? My niece is extremely interested in yachts.’

There was nothing the Prince could do but put down his binoculars, kiss Aunt Emilie’s hand and smile at Mistral.

‘Are you really so inquisitive?’ he asked, and she saw the amusement in his eyes.

She had felt the colour rise in her checks and even while she lied, knowing that she dared not speak the truth in front of Aunt Emilie, she had despised herself for being a coward.

‘Yes – I – I am most interested,’ she stammered.

She knew that he did not believe her, and yet with that strange new gentleness which was quite unlike his original attitude towards her he made way for her to stand beside him and said quietly,

‘Let me explain what is happening.’

Emilie immediately moved away, leaving them alone, and while Mistral knew that such an unconventional action would cause a great deal of chatter and comment among the fashionable throng who were watching every movement, she was thankful when her aunt was out of earshot. Hastily in a low voice she said,

‘Please do not trouble about me, Your Serene Highness. I know you want to watch the race through your glasses.’

The Prince gave her a smile of friendly understanding.

‘I don’t believe the dragon knows the difference between a yacht and a rowing boat, so she won’t be able to cross-examine you afterwards.’

Mistral laughed. She could not help it. It might be disloyal to Aunt Emilie, but the Prince had such an amusing way of putting things and she was also certain that he was right where Aunt Emilie was concerned. After that she had ceased to be embarrassed and had, under the Prince’s instruction, even begun to understand a little of what was happening out to sea.

The Prince’s yacht won and he cheered in his excitement, boyishly waving his cap above his head. A great many other people cheered, too, because he was young and popular and because they liked his unsophisticated enthusiasm. But as soon as the cheers had died away, he said to Mistral,

‘I must go down to the harbour and reward the crew. Goodbye for the moment, and don’t let the dragon gobble you up before I see you again.’

Mistral dimpled at him.

‘I am so glad your yacht won,’ she said.

‘So am I!’ the Prince exclaimed. ‘And it was a splendid effort, for it is manned entirely by local fishing lads.’

He hurried away and Mistral knew that he had not given her another thought. A little self-consciously she rejoined Aunt Emilie, who at the time said nothing as to what she had expected from the interview, but who now was making no effort to disguise her disappointment as she watched the Prince’s party.