"Impossible!" cried Simone Holbord. "Poor woman! What an awful shock for her!"
"Lady Beltham is a brave, dignified, and truly charitable woman," said the Comtesse de Baral. "She simply worshipped her husband. And yet, she pleaded warmly for mercy for the murderer — though she did not succeed in getting it."
"What a dreadful thing!" said Simone Holbord perfunctorily; her attention was wandering to all the other attractions in this attractive room. A pile of letters was lying on a writing-table, and the reckless young woman began to look at the envelopes. "Just look at this pile of letters!" she cried. "How funny! Every one of them in a woman's hand! I suppose Valgrand gets all sorts of offers?"
Colonel Holbord went on talking to the Comte de Baral in a corner of the room.
"I am enormously interested in what you tell me. What happened then?"
"Well, this wretch, Gurn, was recognised by the police as he was leaving Lady Beltham's, and was arrested and put in prison. The trial came on at the Court of Assize about six weeks ago. All Paris went to it, of course including myself! This man Gurn is a brute, but a strange brute, rather difficult to define; he swore that he had killed Lord Beltham after a quarrel, practically for the sake of robbing him, but I had a strong impression that he was lying."
"But why else should he have committed the murder?"
The Comte de Baral shrugged his shoulders.
"Nobody knows," he said: "politics, perhaps, nihilism, or perhaps again — love. There was one fact, or coincidence, worth noting: when Lady Beltham came home from the Transvaal after the war, during which, by the way, she did splendid work among the sick and wounded, she sailed by the same boat that was taking Gurn to England. Gurn also was a bit of a popular hero just then: he had volunteered at the beginning of the war, and came back with a sergeant's stripes and a medal for distinguished conduct. Can Gurn and Lady Beltham have met and got to know each other? It is certain that the lady's behaviour during the trial lent itself to comment, if not exactly to scandal. She had odd collapses in the presence of the murderer, collapses which were accounted for in very various ways. Some people said that she was half out of her mind with grief at the loss of her husband; others said that if she was mad, it was over someone, over this vulgar criminal — martyr or accomplice, perhaps. They even went so far as to allege that Lady Beltham had an intrigue with Gurn!"
"Come! come!" the Colonel protested: "a great lady like Lady Beltham, so religious and so austere? Absurd!"
"People say all sorts of things," said the Comte de Baral vaguely. He turned to another subject. "Anyhow, the case caused a tremendous sensation; Gurn's condemnation to death was very popular, and the case was so typically Parisian that our friend Valgrand, knowing that he was going to create the part of the murderer in this tragedy to-night, followed every phase of the Gurn trial closely, studied the man in detail, and literally identified himself with him in this character. It was a shrewd idea. You noticed the sensation when he came on the stage?"
"Yes, I did," said the Colonel; "I wondered what the exclamations from all over the house meant."
"Try to find a portrait of Gurn in some one of the illustrated papers," said the Comte, "and compare it with —— Ah, I think this is Valgrand coming!"
The Baronne de Vibray had tired of her conversation with the old dresser, Charlot, and had left him to take up her stand outside the dressing-room, where she greeted with nods and smiles the other actors and actresses as they hurried by on their way home, and listened to the sounds at the end of the passage. Presently a voice became distinguishable, the voice of Valgrand singing a refrain from a musical comedy. The Baronne de Vibray hurried to meet him, with both hands outstretched, and led him into his dressing-room.
"Let me present M. Valgrand!" she exclaimed, and then presented the two young women to the bowing actor: "Comtesse Marcelline de Baral, Mme. Holbord."
"Pardon me, ladies, for keeping you waiting," the actor said. "I was deep in conversation with the Minister. He was so charming, so kind!" He turned to the Baronne de Vibray. "He did me the honour to offer me a cigarette! A relic! Charlot! Charlot! You must put this cigarette in the little box where all my treasures are!"
"It is very full already, M. Valgrand," said Charlot deprecatingly.
"We must not keep you long," the Baronne de Vibray murmured. "You must be very tired."
Valgrand passed a weary hand across his brow.
"Positively exhausted!" Then he raised his head and looked at the company. "What did you think of me?"
A chorus of eulogy sprang from every lip.
"Splendid!" "Wonderful!" "The very perfection of art!"
"No, but really?" protested Valgrand, swelling with satisfied vanity. "Tell me candidly: was it really good?"
"You really were wonderful: could not have been better," the Baronne de Vibray exclaimed enthusiastically, and the crowd of worshippers endorsed every word, until the artist was convinced that their praise was quite sincere.
"How I have worked!" he exclaimed: "do you know, when rehearsals began — ask Charlot if this isn't true — the piece simply didn't exist!"
"Simply didn't exist!" Charlot corroborated him, like an echo.
"Didn't exist," Valgrand repeated: "not even my part. It was insignificant, flat! So I took the author aside and I said: 'Frantz, my boy, I'll tell you what you must do: you know the lawyer's speech? Absurd! What am I to do while he is delivering it? I'll make the speech for my own defence, and I'll get something out of it!' And the prison scene! Just fancy, he had shoved a parson into that! I said to Frantz: 'Cut the parson out, my boy: what the dickens am I to do while he is preaching? Simply nothing at all: it's absurd. Give his speech to me! I'll preach to myself!' And there you are: I don't want to boast, but really I did it all! And it was a success, eh?"
Again the chorus broke out, to be stopped by Valgrand, who was contemplating his reflection in a mirror.
"And my make-up, Colonel? Do you know the story of my make-up? I hear they were talking about it all over the house. Am I like Gurn? What do you think? You saw him quite close at the trial, Comte: what do you think?"
"The resemblance is perfectly amazing," said the Comte de Baral with perfect truth.
The actor stroked his face mechanically: a new idea struck him.
"My beard is a real one," he exclaimed. "I let it grow on purpose. I hardly had to make myself up at all; I am the same build, the same type, same profile; it was ridiculously easy!"
"Give me a lock of hair from your beard for a locket," said the Baronne de Vibray impudently.
Valgrand looked at her, and heaved a profound sigh.
"Not yet, not yet, dear lady: I am infinitely sorry, but not yet: a little later on, perhaps; wait for the hundredth performance."
"I must have one too," said Simone Holbord, and Valgrand with great dignity replied:
"I will put your name down for one, madame!"
But the Comte de Baral had looked furtively at his watch, and uttered an exclamation of surprise.
"My good people, it is most horribly late! And our great artiste must be overcome with sleep!"
Forthwith they all prepared to depart, in spite of the actor's courteous protests that he could not hear of letting them go so soon. They lingered at the door for a few minutes in eager, animated conversation, shaking hands and exchanging farewells and thanks and congratulations. Then the sound of their footsteps died away along the corridors, and the Baronne de Vibray and her friends left the theatre. Valgrand turned back into his dressing-room and locked the door, then dropped into the low and comfortable chair that was set before his dressing-table.
He remained there resting for a few minutes, and then sat up and threw a whimsical glance at his dresser who was putting out his ordinary clothes.
"Hang it all, Charlot! What's