CHAPTER XIX. CARLOTTA'S STORY.

"On, this is terrible," the Countess stammered.

"Of course it is," Maria Delahay cried. "Why don't you be candid with me? I have told you what my name is, and, besides, you already knew. When you saw my husband on that fatal night your likeness to me would have struck him at once, and explanations would have followed. Then why are you trying to deceive me now?"

"I hardly know what I am saying," the Countess replied. "The whole thing is such a terrible complication. I don't want to deceive you, Maria, and I will tell you all I can. You might believe me or not, but when I read of the death of Louis Delahay, for the moment I had quite forgotten you. You see it was a great shock to me when you came in just now, especially as I had not seen you for so many years. But I am getting muddled up again. I am beginning to wonder which of us is which. It seems to me that all this miserable business is merely the result of the strong likeness which exists between us."

"Never mind that," Mrs. Delahay cried. "If you will remember, in my evidence I said my husband had gone out, that he did not return all night, and that I found him dead in Fitzjohn Square in the morning. I was out of the hotel for nearly two hours trying to find you, after I had been so strangely put on your track by the chambermaid. Perhaps it was a foolish thing on my part to conceal my absence, but, of course, I never guessed the result of my folly. It never occurred to me till afterwards that my absence from the hotel could be so easily proved. Even that did not matter so much. And when the witness Stevens swore that he saw me with my husband at a time when I had said I was in my hotel, things began to look serious for me. I know perfectly well that I may be arrested at any moment on a charge of murdering my husband. How true that charge will be I leave you to judge for yourself. But the mystery was no longer a mystery to me when Stevens told the court most positively that he had seen me with my husband. I did not know that Louis was acquainted with you. He never mentioned your name, but directly Stevens had finished I knew that it must have been you who was with my husband; and now I must ask you to give me an explanation."

"That is an easier matter than it seems," Countess Flavio said. "I knew Louis Delahay, though he had no acquaintance with me."

"That sounds impossible," Maria murmured.

"Oh, I know it does, but it is true all the same; and to make my story plain I shall have to go back nearly eighteen years. The events which led to my making Louis Delahay's acquaintance took place near Florence at the time I mentioned."

"That is strange," Mrs. Delahay murmured. "I was in Florence about then, too. Yes, I know I told you that I was practically a prisoner all those years, but there were times when I had a certain latitude. I was very ill about that time, and the doctor ordered me to Florence, saying that it was good for me to see people and mix with crowds. I was supposed to be there by myself, but there was no movement of mine which was not noted. I never took even the shortest walk without being dogged and spied upon. The people who called themselves my servants were, in reality, my gaolers. But why do I worry you with these trivial details when there is so much of importance to say? Go on with your story."

"Well, as I was saying," the Countess explained, "I was in Florence with my husband. We had been married then something like three years. We had rather a lonely villa on the outskirts of the town. Ours was not a happy life; indeed, it was most miserable. I daresay there were faults on my side, too; but one night we had a violent quarrel, and, on the spur of the moment, I made up my mind to run away. I managed to get all my jewels together. I managed to leave the house in darkness and steal through the grounds to the road. I was dressed all in black, and I remember the night was very thick. Just as I was congratulating myself on my escape my husband overtook me. He was beside himself with passion. He laid violent hands upon me. I believe he would have killed me if I had not managed to wrench myself free and make for the road. What we said I do not know, but I suppose our voices must have carried far, for I had only got a little down the road, with my husband in hot pursuit behind me, when a man emerged from the cottage and caught me by the arm. At first I thought he was one of my husband's tools, but the first words that he said reassured me."

"'Do not be afraid,' he whispered. 'I was trespassing on the Count's property just now, and I heard all that was said. That man is dangerous, and it is necessary that I should protect you for the present. Come in here with me.'"

"He did not wait for me to consent. He fairly lifted me from the ground into the blackness and seclusion of the cottage. It was all done in less time than it takes to tell. A moment later I heard my husband go raging down the road, and then I knew that my life was saved. Mind you, it was altogether too dark to see my rescuer. It would have been imprudent to strike a light. I stayed for some little time until I regained my composure, after which I made up my mind to return home again. It would never do for people to think that a Descarti was a coward, and, besides, there were other considerations. I would go back home again and give my husband one more chance, especially as I had a friend in the house in the person of Luigi Silva, who had followed me on my marriage. At the same time, I did not forget the dictates of prudence. It might be still necessary for me to seek an asylum, and my instinct told me that I could trust the man by my side. On the spur of the moment I implored him to take care of my jewels for me. He demurred for a time on the score that he was a perfect stranger to me, then, finally, he consented, at the same time taking from his pocket a card, which he said contained his name and address. And thus the strange interview ended, thus we parted, never to meet again till that fatal night we came together in Fitzjohn Square. I know the story sounds incredible."

"Not to me," said Mrs. Delahay, sadly. "Nothing could be incredible to a woman who has gone through what I have. But go on. You went back home again, after entrusting your jewelry to a perfect stranger whose face you had never seen."

"Indeed, I did. And we should never have known one another even if we had met. I went back to the villa, and afterwards we returned to our estate. But it was not for long. A month or two later my husband was found dead in bed, and it was proved beyond question that he had been poisoned. Then began a time for me--a time of terror and anxiety so great that I sometimes marvelled that I retained my reason. For four years the torture lasted, and then, at length, I was free. I was in so strange and morbid a condition that the sight of a human face was hateful to me. I wanted to go off and live on some distant island until I recovered my nerve and strength again. I succeeded at length in finding the place I needed, and for twelve or thirteen years I led a life of absolute seclusion in a little cottage high up the Italian Alps. I had taken a certain amount of money with me, but I woke up to the fact one day that my means were exhausted. You must know that I fled straight away, as soon as the last trial was finished, and that all those years I never saw a single face that was familiar to me. But by the end of that period I was quite myself again. I felt a strange longing to go into the world and see what life was like once more. Besides, there was my child to consider."

"Your child?" Mrs. Delahay cried. "This is the first time you have mentioned a child. Do you mean to say that you could part with your own flesh and blood in that callous way?"

The Countess' expression hardened for a moment.

"She was his child as well as mine," she whispered.

"Well, what of that? I fail to see that it makes any difference. Your husband might have been a passionate man, but, apart from that, everybody spoke exceedingly well of him. He was immensely popular. He was clever and generous. He had hosts of friends--I know that through an English nobleman, who was greatly attached to the Count. Everybody spoke well of him."

"Oh, I know, I know," the Countess said, with a bitter smile. "The catalogue of his virtues was trumpeted high enough at the trial, and I was no more than an inhuman wretch, not fit to live, certainly not fit to have a husband like Count Boris Flavio. But you shall hear my story presently. You shall hear what my witness has to say. At any rate, I hated my husband with a deep and abiding hate, so that I could not bear to look upon the face of his child. You may say that all this is unnatural and inhuman, but you little know what I had to put up with. Still, twelve or fourteen years will heal most wounds, and when I came back into the world I was possessed with a longing to see my daughter. I did not like to go back to the old place again, so I sent to make inquiries. Imagine my feelings when I heard that my daughter, Vera, had been kidnapped during the time of the first trial, and that she had never been seen again. That is two years ago now. I managed to communicate with Luigi Silva, and he was just as astonished and surprised as I was. Naturally, he thought that I had made arrangements with Vera, and that she was with me all the time. One of my reasons for coming to England was to try and find my child. My other reason was to see Mr. Louis Delahay and get my jewels back from him. This was quite imperative, as I am at my wits' end for money."