The House of the White Shadows. B. L. Farjeon

too, would warn you against it----"

      "You are but whetting my curiosity," she interrupted playfully.

      "Seriously, though. Master Lamont, in his letter, says that the house has not been inhabited for nearly a generation----"

      "There must be ghosts there," she said, again interrupting him. "It will be delightful."

      "And Master Lamont's remark," continued the Advocate, "that there have been comedies and tragedies enacted within its walls is not a recommendation."

      "I have heard you say, Edward, that they are enacted within the walls of the commonest houses."

      "But this particular house has been for so long a time deserted! I am in ignorance of the stories attached to it; that they are in some sense unpleasant is proved by Almer's avoidance of the place. What occurs to me is that, were it entirely desirable, Almer would not have made it a point to shun it."

      "Christian Almer is different from other men; that is your own opinion of him."

      "True; he is a man dominated by sentiment; yet there appears to be something deeper than mere sentiment in his consistent avoidance of the singularly named House of White Shadows."

      "According to Master Lamont's letter he has been to some trouble to make it agreeable to us. Indeed, Edward, you cannot argue me out of having my own way."

      "If the house is gloomy, Adelaide----"

      "I will brighten it. Can I not?" she asked in a tone so winning that it brought a light into his grave face.

      "You can, for me, Adelaide," he replied; "but I am not thinking of myself. I would not willingly sadden a heart as joyous as yours. You must promise, if you are not happy there, to seek with me a more cheerful retreat."

      "You can dismiss your fears, Edward. I shall be happy there. All last night I was dreaming of white shadows. Did they sadden me? No. I woke up this morning in delightful spirits. Is that an answer to your forebodings?"

      "When did you not contrive to have your own way? I have some banking business to do in Geneva, and I must leave you for an hour." She nodded and smiled at him. Before he reached the door he turned and said: "Are you still resolved to send your maid away? She knows your wants so well, and you are so accustomed to her, that her absence might put you to inconvenience. Had you not better keep her with you till you see whether you are likely to be suited at Almer's house?"

      "Edward," she said gaily, "have I not told you a hundred times, and have you not found out for yourself a hundred and a hundred times again, that your wife is a very wilful woman? I shall love to be inconvenienced; it will set my wits to work. But indeed I happen to know that there is a pretty girl in the villa, the old housekeeper's granddaughter, who was born to do everything I wish done in just the way I wish it done."

      "Child of impulse and fancy," he said, kissing her hand, and then her lips, in response to a pouting invitation, "it is well for you that you have a husband as serious as myself to keep guard and watch over you. What is the thought that has suddenly entered your head?"

      "Can you read a woman's thoughts?" she asked in her lightest manner.

      "I can judge by signs. What was your thought, Adelaide?"

      "A foolish thought. To keep guard and watch over me, you said. The things are so different. The first is a proof of love, the second of suspicion."

      "A logician, too," he said with a pleased smile; "the air here agrees with you." So saying he left her, and the moment he was beyond the reach of her personal influence his native manner asserted itself, and his features assumed their usual grave expression. As he was descending the stairs of the hotel he was accosted by a woman, the maid he had advised his wife to keep.

      "I beg your pardon, sir," she said; "but may I ask why I am discharged?"

      "Certainly not of me," he replied stiffly; "you are my wife's servant. She has her reasons."

      "She has not made me acquainted with them," said the woman discontentedly. "Will you?"

      He saw that she was in an ill-temper, and although he was not a man to tolerate insolence, he was attentive to trifles.

      "I do not interfere with my wife's domestics. She engages whom she pleases, and discharges whom she pleases."

      "But to do right, sir, that is everyone's affair. I am discharged suddenly, without notice, and without having committed a fault. Until this morning I am perfection; no one can dress my lady like me, no one can arrange her hair so admirably. That is what she says to me continually. Why, then, am I discharged? I ask my lady why, and she says, for her convenience."

      "She has paid you, has she not?"

      "Oh yes, and has given me money to return home. But it is not that. It is that it hurts me to be suddenly discharged. It is to my injury when I seek another situation. I shall be asked why I left my last. To speak the truth, I must say that I did not leave, that I was discharged. I shall be asked why, and I shall not be able to say."

      "Has she not given you a character?"

      "Yes; it is not that I complain of; it is being suddenly discharged."

      "I cannot interfere, mistress. You have no reasonable cause for complaint. You have a character, and you are well paid; that should content you."

      He turned from her, and she sent her parting words after him:

      "My lady has her reasons! I hope they will be found to be good ones, and that you will find them so. Do you hear?--that you will find them so!"

      He paid no further heed to her, and entering his carriage drove to the Rue de la Corraterie, to the business house of Jacob Hartrich, and was at once admitted to the banker's private room.

CHAPTER IV

       Table of Contents

JACOB HARTRICH, THE BANKER, GIVES HIS REASONS FOR BELIEVING GAUTRAN THE WOODMAN GUILTY OF THE MURDER OF MADELINE

       Table of Contents

      Jacob Hartrich, by birth a Jew, had reached his sixtieth year, and was as hale and strong as a man of forty. His face was bland and full-fleshed, his eyes bright and, at times, joyous, his voice mellow, his hands fat and finely-shaped, and given to a caressing petting of each other, denoting satisfaction with themselves and the world in general. His manners were easy and self-possessed--a characteristic of his race. He was a gentleman and a man of education.

      He gazed at the Advocate with admiration; he had an intense respect for men who had achieved fame by force of intellect.

      "Mr. Almer," he said, "prepared me for your arrival, and is anxious that I should forward your views in every possible way. I shall be happy to do so, and, if it is in my power, to contribute to the pleasure of your visit."

      "I thank you," said the Advocate, with a courteous inclination of his head. "When did you last see Mr. Almer?"

      "He called upon me this day three weeks--for a few minutes only, and only concerning your business."

      "He is always thoughtful and considerate. I suppose he was on his road to Paris when he called upon you."

      "No; he had no intention of going to Paris. I believe he had been for some time in the neighbourhood of Geneva before he favoured me with a visit. He is still here."

      "Here!" exclaimed the Advocate, in a tone of pleasure and surprise.

      "At least in Switzerland."

      "In what part?"

      "I cannot inform you, but