• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 593 0

he do it? He could hardly go up to the Prefect’s front door and say that he wasn’t well enough to come, for the doorman would be certain to tell his master that it was Count Abady himself who had delivered the message! And if he sent a waiter from one of the cafés that were still open it would soon be known that he had been seen there. Better, perhaps, to go home and send round his valet with a visiting-card and a little note? He looked at his watch and saw that it was already half past eleven and all the servants at the Abady house would be in bed asleep. He would have to wake someone, who would then have to dress, and it would all take far too long. He was already late for the party, and the other guests, and the famous French singer, were no doubt at that very moment waiting for him. No doubt, as he spoke good French, he was expected to be the diva’s supper partner, and if he waited any longer it was more than likely that everyone would have gone in to eat and that his place, beside the guest of honour, would remain empty. It would be a gross lack of politeness to stay away a minute longer than it would take him to reach the house.

All this was going through his mind as he walked, now more swiftly than before, towards his host’s house. He knew that the opera had ended some time before because a number of carriages bringing other guests from the theatre had already passed him in the street, which was now again silent and deserted. Everyone must have already arrived at the house. Balint quickened his pace almost breaking into a run, because he realized that whether he wanted to or not he would have to go to the party.

The Prefect’s house blazed with light, but the street outside was deserted except for a one-horse carriage which was waiting to one side of the front door.

Abady was just stepping hurriedly past it when the tall figure of Adam Alvinczy, Margit’s husband, jumped out and grabbed his arm.

‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ he said excitedly. ‘Margit sent me to catch you here!’

Somehow Balint was not surprised, as he had sensed that the chance encounter with Adrienne was bound to provoke something no one could foresee.

‘Well?’ he said. ‘What is it?’

‘We knew you’d be here. Margit says you’re to come at once … there’s some trouble at home; that’s why she sent me. Come on then! Quickly!’

As they got into the carriage Adam called out to the coachman to drive at once back to the Uzdy villa.

Balint felt his throat constrict so that he could hardly speak. Somehow he managed to ask what had happened.

‘I don’t know,’ said Adam. ‘All I can tell you is that when we got home from the opera Adrienne rushed straight to her room and locked herself in. Margit has stayed near her, in the bathroom next door, as she doesn’t dare to leave her entirely alone. She is very worried.’

They did not speak again. As they drove out of town towards the Uzdy villa on the Monostor road all that could be heard was the clatter of the horses’ hooves on the paving-stones; and to both men the five minutes’ journey seemed far longer. As they drove along Balint could think only of one thing, the small Browning revolver, that deadly little weapon which Adrienne had once asked him to buy for her, though she had carefully concealed from him that even then she had thought of killing herself with it. Since that day, and especially when a little later they had parted, perhaps for ever, after the month they had spent together in Venice, the thought of that revolver had haunted him, for he knew how uncompromising she was and also how haunted she was by the spectre of that ultimate solution to her troubles.

And now the spectre walked again, and perhaps what he had always feared had finally been accomplished. He was in agony lest they should arrive too late to prevent what he knew instinctively to be uppermost in her mind …

The carriage stopped in front of the wrought-iron screen which divided the villa’s garden from the road. Adam opened the little-used side gate with his own key and called to the coachman to wait where he was. Then he and Balint hurried