E. Phillips Oppenheim

“ Cardinge observed, “I remain natural. For it is fifteen years since we met. As for you, Ludor, you have sold yourself, I think, to the devil. There is not a gray hair in your head, not a line upon your face. Just as you were pale in those days, you are pale now. One would have guessed you then anywhere between twenty-five and thirty-five. One would guess the same now.”
“Flattery, from a man!” Ludor exclaimed. “It is the real thing, that! May I not be presented to Mademoiselle?” he added, glancing to the farther end of the terrace where Claire was talking to Armand. ”

“ He smiled coldly, tapped a cigaret upon the table and played with a match.
“I at least do not change with the years,” he said. “There were days when we played with life and death with a jest on our lips. Life was the ball we threw in the air and caught—perhaps. What did it matter? A few years either way. I come back and I find you, Madame unenterprising, and my friend Cardinge, I gravely fear, a sentimentalist.”
“I have earned my quittance,” Cardinge reminded him.
“You are no longer one of the famous Virgins, then,” Ludor remarked. “Well, as for me, I am one still. I ask for work.” ”

“ The luggage of Paul Ludor was brought down and stowed away. Ludor himself returned, hat in hand, to Madame.
“Madame,” he observed, “it is an inglorious finish, this, to a wonderful epoch. Think well before you send me away. There is no one who can do what I can do so fearlessly, with so little risk. I come prepared. I carry a hundred deaths with me.”
She shook her head.
“I have slipped down a notch in the code,” she confessed. “I may still rob, but in own way, and from those whom I select. To destroy no longer appeals.”
“It is a great pity,” he said simply, “And you, Cardinge?” ”

“ Afterwards to Nice, perhaps to Monte Carlo, to pass as best I may this fortnight. You will not fail me, Céleste?”
“I will not fail you,” she promised.
He looked at her meaningly.
“You understand—that he will be ill? Have no fear. There is no living doctor who could tell the reason why.”
“I understand,” she answered.
THIRTEEN days later Cardinge, seated underneath one of the striped umbrellas outside the Café de Paris at Monte Carlo, became suddenly aware that the occupant of the next table was Paul Ludor. The recognition was mutual. ”

“ Ludor smiled.
“Are we becoming squeamish?” he asked. “But no matter. There have been many since Maître Hellier. A motive is well enough, but I like to kill without a motive. The artistic sensation is more poignant, and the risk of detection almost nil. If it is permitted I will change my collar.”
Madame touched a bell.
“They will show you your room,” she said. “There will be some tea here presently. We dine at eight.”
LUDOR withdrew and Madame and Cardinge exchanged glances.
“Ludor is unchanged,” the latter remarked. ”

“ Cardinge took it into his hand and turned toward Ludor, who had joined him at the foot of the steps.
“The pocketbook of Monsieur,” the driver remarked triumphantly.
Ludor took the book into his hands, turned over the pages, carelessly at first; then with a certain suddenly developed interest. In the end he returned it to the man.
“You have had your drive for nothing,” he told him. ”The pocketbook is not mine.”
The cocher threw out his hands. He pointed to the tired horse. He tapped his watch.
“It is an affair of an hour,” he grumbled. “No one else has been in the carriage to-day. ”

“ I called in for a mixed vermuth and to ask the way to the Villa Sabatin.”
JACQUES ROUSILLON stooped down and emerged on the other side of the counter. It was obvious now that this visiting Lothario was a small man. He did not even reach to the shoulders of the giant who stood before him.
“There are customers who are welcome here,” Jacques Rousillon declared, “and there are customers who are not. That is where you come in, my fine fellow. You understand?”
“Not in the least,” Ludor replied. “I understand that you are very rude. What harm do I do in your café? ”

“ You would be more fortunate than the others who came. They have had to work for it.”
“To work? But that is the joy of my life,” Ludor confessed, examining his carefully manicured finger nails. “There is no one who loves his work as I do.” ”

“ Cagnes was quite a fortunate place for me.” he went on, ruminatingly. “Women, I know, for some reason or other are not your weakness—but there is a little lady there at the Café de L'Univers. I met her the day before in Nice—simply charming.”
“Why, her husband died, last week,” Cardinge remarked. “I remember seeing the funeral.”
Ludor sighed.
“How unfortunate—and yet how opportune!” he exclaimed. “Madame joins me on the train which leaves here at two-thirty this afternoon. I am taking her to Paris. She will amuse me for some months at any rate. ”

“ Again the shuffling behind, and Madame was frightened. “If my husband comes out,” she warned him, “you must be careful. Sit down, and will you not smoke? You have too much the air of being in earnest. It might seem so to him—alas, not to me.”
Ludor obeyed her wishes. He seated himself at a small table close to the counter.
“Monsieur returns to Nice this afternoon?” she inquired.
He shook his head.
“As it happens, no,” he answered. “I have an old friend here whom I desire to visit. Madame de Soyau of the Villa Sabatin. You know where it is?” ”

“ Drive more carefully—down hill.”
The man mumbled something and pulled his horse back into a walk. Ludor looked cautiously around, looked behind, and leaned over the side to see as much of the coming curve as possible. Then he struck with unerring and practised skill at a certain place at the back of the driver's head. The man rolled over like log and fell into the road. Ludor sprang lightly from his place, reached the horse's head and brought him to a standstill. Down the precipice on the left were great boulders of stone. ”

“ She smiled scornfully.
“The law looks askance at turning back the leaves a score of years,” she reminded him. “Besides, there are still a few of my Virgins unabsolved. You would scarcely be asked, even, to choose the manner of your death.” ”

“ Cardinge observed, “'am absolved. But that would not save your life. Informers and vermin one kills as a matter of course.”
THE butler had answered Madame's ring. She turned to him.
“Monsieur finds that he will be unable to remain to-night,” she said. “Repack his things and bring them down. Order a car to be round in a few minutes.”
“Madame,” the man replied, “Monsieur's clothes are as yet unpacked. Concerning the cars, however, there is a difficulty. Mademoiselle has taken the limousine to the Tennis Club and Monsieur Armand the Rolls-Royce into Nice. ”