The Crooked House | Page 2

Dupont's face. Without the
smile it was a very much less pleasant face.
"Two years ago, in my own country," his voice acquired a new snap,
"some one asked me a riddle."
"A riddle?" Tranter echoed, surprised at the change.
"A very strange riddle. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you what it was. I
cannot tell any one what it was. I undertook to find the answer. From
France the riddle took me far away to another country--and there, after
a year's work, I found half the answer. The other half is in London. And
I am in London to find it."
"This is interesting," said Tranter, smiling slightly at the huge
Frenchman's intense seriousness.
"You, my friend, can help me."
"I am at your service," the other promised.
Monsieur Dupont half-emptied his glass, and the smile began to
reappear on his face in gradual creases. In a moment the shadow had
vanished. He laughed like a jolly giant.
"Ah, forgive me! I had almost committed the crime to be serious. It is a
fault that is easy in your London."

"What do you want me to do for you?" Tranter asked.
"I want," said Monsieur Dupont, "to be taken with you, as your friend
from Paris, to one or two society functions--where I may be likely to
meet ... what I seek."
Tranter was somewhat taken aback.
"Unconsciously," he returned--"though of course, I will make it my
business to fulfill your wishes--you have really asked me a difficult
thing. No man goes less into society than I do. Most people have given
up inviting me."
"Forgive me," said Monsieur Dupont again. "I had imagined I should
be asking a thing the most simple."
"So you are," Tranter assured him. "The fault is with me. Where
women are concerned I am utterly hopeless. I fly from a pretty woman
as you might fly from a crocodile."
"An ugly woman," said Monsieur Dupont, "is the real friend of man--if
he would but know it."
"The dull family dinners of dull family people are the only 'functions' I
ever attend. However, let me see what can be done for you." Tranter
rose, and with an amused expression began to sort out a small pile of
cards on the mantel-piece.
Monsieur Dupont smiled on. He emptied his glass, and inhaled the
smoke of his excellent cigar with all the enjoyment of a satisfied
connoisseur. His glance played from one article of furniture to another,
from the floor to the ceiling, from bookcase to bookcase, from picture
to picture. The very plainness of the room seemed to fascinate him. His
gaze sought out the ugliest picture, and became fixed on it. Tranter
turned over all the cards, and shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
"In a couple of days I shall be able to fix you up a dozen times over,"
he said. "But I am afraid I have scarcely anything to offer you for

to-morrow night. Why didn't you drop me a line in advance?"
"Let us dispense with to-morrow night, then," said Monsieur Dupont.
Tranter ran through the cards again.
"There is a dinner at Lord Crumbleton's--which I have too much regard
for you to suggest. The Countess is a most estimable lady, who has
spent the last fifteen years in vain attempts to become unfaithful to her
husband, and now reads the Apocrypha all day for stimulation. You
could dine with a high-church clergyman who absolves sins, or an
actor-manager who commits them. But stay----" he paused quickly. "I
forgot. There is something else." He sorted out a card. "Here is a
possibility of amusement that had escaped me."
"Ah!" said Monsieur Dupont.
"George Copplestone has favored me with an invitation to a select
gathering at his house at Richmond, which would be very much more
likely to provide answers to riddles. I never accept Copplestone's
invitations on principle--although he goes on sending them. But, if you
like, I will break my rule, and take you. It is sure to be entertaining, if
nothing more."
Monsieur Dupont bowed his gratitude. Tranter replaced the cards, and
returned to his seat.
"Copplestone is a remarkable individual, who has learnt what a
multitude of sins even a slight financial connection with the Theater
will cover. He puts various sums of money into the front of the house
to gain unquestioned admission to the back. He has an extraordinary
taste for fantasy, and is always startling his friends with some new
eccentricity. He is not generally considered to be a desirable
acquaintance--and certainly no man in London has less regard for the
conventions."
"To confine myself to desirable acquaintances," said Monsieur Dupont,
"would be my last wish."

"Then we will go to Richmond to-morrow night. He lives in a very
strange house, in a stranger garden--the sort of place that no