He understood now, understood too clearly, the meanings of Ravengar's
strange utterances on the telephone. The man had determined to commit
suicide, and he had chosen a way which was calculated with the most
appalling ingenuity to ruin, if anything would ruin, Hugo's peace of
mind for years to come--perhaps for ever. For the world, Ravengar was
drowned. But Hugo knew that his body was lying in that vault.
'Louis had an accomplice,' Hugo reflected. 'Who can that have been? Who
could have been willing to play so terrible a role?'
CHAPTER XXII
DARCY
That night, when he was just writing out some cheques in aid of
charities conducted by Lady Brice (_nee_ Kentucky-Webster), Simon
entered with a card. The hour was past eleven.
Hugo read on the card, 'Docteur Darcy.'
He had nearly forgotten that he had sent for Darcy; in fact, he was no
longer quite sure why he had sent for him, since he meant, in any case,
to hasten to Belgium at the earliest moment.
'You are exceedingly prompt, doctor,' he said, when Darcy came into the
dome. 'I thank you.'
The cosmopolitan physician appeared to be wearing the same tourist suit
that he had worn on the night of Tudor's death. The sallowness of his
impassive face had increased somewhat, and his long thin hands had their
old lackadaisical air.
Pages:
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205