“We’re on the wrong track,” he announced suddenly to himself; “farcical sleuths trailing chimeras. We’ve bungled everything. There’s something else ... someone else. It’s I she suspects. Her silence, her strangeness, everything.... A ruse to protect me. The burned letter ... all part of her plan. There is no Floria.... She’s saving me from a crime she thinks I committed....”
Again his thought stopped and a sigh escaped him. He had been trying to build himself against the despair that lacerated his heart.
“No,” he repeated, “no. It was she last night in my room. A false attack. She didn’t mean murder. It was made merely as a gesture to establish her mother’s innocence. Hm, but I know better than that. The dagger plunged for my heart.... Too clear a memory to evade. My arm saved me.... A crazed woman. And what else? Oh, yes, the laugh. I remember.... She laughed. After the dagger had struck, she laughed.... And it was her voice. I remember now. Florence’s voice, wild and crazed, laughing over me ... after the dagger had struck....”
The knowledge which overcame him sickened his thought. His face had become drawn. Fears ached in his heart.
“Worthy of other days,” he whispered. “Yes, a plot out of De Medici annals. But I must find her. Unless I find her I’ll go mad myself....”
He looked up and saw ahead of him the Hudson Apartments. He had, without thinking of destination, walked toward the Ballau home.
“She’ll be there,” he murmured with sudden conviction. And his eyes growing excited, he walked toward the familiar entrance.
CHAPTER XII
THE WOMAN WITH THE CACKLING LAUGH
Treasures for sale—Bidders and buyers and candlesticks—In which an old woman makes an exciting purchase—In which Julien De Medici pursues an aged Alice in Wonderland—The beginning of a story.
Donovan, the doorman, greeted him.