Red Masquerade

洢Red Masquerade

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Title: Red Masquerade
Author: Louis Joseph Vance
Release Date: December 18, 2003 [eBook #10496]
Language: English
Character set encoding: iso-8859-1
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RED MASQUERADE
Being the Story of THE LONE WOLF'S DAUGHTER
BY
LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE
1921

[Illustration: "_Prince Victor gave a gesture of pain and reluctance. 'Must I tell you?_'"]

TO J. PARKER READ, JR., ESQ. THE CINEMA THAT WAS HIS

APOLOGY
This tale quite brazenly derives from the author's invention for motion pictures which Mr. J. Parker Read, Jr., produced in the autumn of 1919 under the title of "The Lone Wolf's Daughter."
It is only fair to state, however, that the author has in this version taken as many high-handed liberties with the version used by the photoplay director as the latter took with the original.
The chance to get even for once was too tempting....
Messrs. Doubleday, Page & Company in the first instance, and then Mr. Arthur T. Vance, editor of _The Pictorial Review_, in which the story was published as a serial, were equally guilty of the encouragement which results in its appearance in its present guise.
L.J.V.
Westport--31 December, 1920.

Books by Louis Joseph Vance
CYNTHIA-OF-THE-MINUTE
JOAN THURSDAY
NOBODY
NO MAN'S LAND
POOL OF FLAME
PRIVATE WAR
SHEEP'S CLOTHING
THE BANDBOX
THE BLACK BAG
THE BRASS BOWL
THE BRONZE BELL
THE DARK MIRROR
THE DAY OF DAYS
THE DESTROYING ANGEL
THE FORTUNE HUNTER
THE ROMANCE OF TERENCE O'ROURKE
TREY O' HEARTS
_Stories About "The Lone Wolf"_
THE LONE WOLF
THE FALSE FACES
RED MASQUERADE
ALIAS THE LONE WOLF

CONTENTS
BOOK ONE: A
CHAPTER FROM
THE YOUTH OF MONSIEUR MICHAEL LANYARD
I PLEBEIAN AND PRINCE
II THE PRINCESS SOFIA
III MONSIEUR QUIXOTE
IV THE FOOL AND HIS MONEY
V IMPOSTOR
VI THéRèSE
VII FAMILY REUNION
VIII GREEK VS. GREEK
IX PAID IN FULL
BOOK TWO: THE LONE WOLF'S DAUGHTER
I THE GIRL SOFIA
II MASKS AND FACES
III THE AGONY COLUMN
IV MUTINY
V HOUSE OF THE WOLF
VI THE MUMMER
VII THE FANTASTICS
VIII COUNCIL OF THE GODLESS
IX MRS. WARING
X VICTOR ET AL
XI HEARTBREAK
XII SUSPECT
XIII THE TURNIP
XIV CONFERENCE OF THE DAMNED
XV INTUITION
XVI THE CRYSTAL
XVII THE RAISED CHEQUE
XVIII ORDEAL
XIX UNMASKING
XX THE DEVIL TO PAY
XXI VENTRE à TERRE
XXII THE SEVEN BRASS HINGES

BOOK I
A
CHAPTER FROM
THE YOUTH OF MONSIEUR MICHAEL LANYARD

RED MASQUERADE

I
PLEBEIAN AND PRINCE
The gentleman was not in the least bored who might have been and was seen on that wintry afternoon in Nineteen hundred, lounging with one shoulder to a wall of the dingy salesroom and idly thumbing a catalogue of effects about to be put up at auction; but his insouciance was so unaffected that the inevitable innocent bystander might have been pardoned for perceiving in him a pitiable victim of the utterest ennui.
In point of fact, he was privately relishing life with enviable gusto. In those days he could and did: being alive was the most satisfying pastime he could imagine, or cared to, who was a thundering success in his own conceit and in fact as well; since all the world for whose regard he cared a twopenny-bit admired, respected, and esteemed him in his public status, and admired, respected, and feared him in his private capacity, and paid him heavy tribute to boot.
More than that, he was young, still very young indeed, barely beyond the threshold of his chosen career. To his eagerly exploring eye the future unrolled itself in the likeness of an endless scroll illuminated with adventures all piquant, picturesque, and profitable. With the happy assurance of lucky young impudence he figured the world to himself as his oyster; and if his method of helping himself to the succulent contents of its stubborn shell might have been thought questionable (as unquestionably it was) he was no more conscious of a conscience to give him qualms than he was of pangs of indigestion. Whereas his digestive powers were superb....
This way of killing an empty afternoon, too, was much to his taste. The man adored auctions. To his mind a most delectable flavour of discreet scandal inhered in such collections of shabby properties from anonymous homes. Nothing so piqued his imagination as some well-worn piece of furniture--say an ancient escritoire with ink stains on its green baize writing-bed (dried life-blood of love letters long since dead!) and all its pigeon-holes and little drawers empty of everything but dust and the seductive smell of secrets; or a dressing-table whose bewildered mirror, to-day reflecting surroundings cold and strange, had once been quick and warm to the beauty of eyes brilliant with delight or blurred with tears; or perchance a bed....
And even aside from such stimuli to a lively and ingenious fancy, there was always the chance that one might pick up some priceless treasure at an auction sale, some rare work of art dim with desuetude and the