the public believed it to be quite empty.  Gentlemen of the Apache persuasion have frequently made it a place of retreat.  There is also an underground passage—­executed by those same individuals—­which connects with the Paris sewers.  That, too, the police are unaware of.  What can the ruined Chateau Larouge possibly have to do with the affairs of the Baron de Carjorac, Miss Lorne, that you connect them like this?”

“They have everything to do with them—­everything.  The Chateau is no longer a ruin, however.  It was purchased, rebuilt, refitted by the Comtesse Susanne de la Tour, Mr. Cleek, and she and her brother live there.  So do we—­Athalie, Baron de Carjorac, and I. So, also, does the creature—­the thing—­the abominable horror known as ‘The Red Crawl.’”

“My dear Miss Lorne, what are you saying?”

“The truth, nothing but the truth!” she answered hysterically.  “Oh, let me begin at the beginning—­you’ll never understand unless I do.  I’ll tell you in as few words as possible—­as quickly as I can.  It all began last winter, when Athalie and her father were at Monte Carlo.  There they met Madame la Comtesse de la Tour and her brother, Monsieur Gaston Merode.  The baron has position but he has not wealth, Mr. Cleek.  Athalie is ambitious.  She loves luxury, riches, a life of fashion—­all the things that boundless money can give; and when Monsieur Merode—­who is young, handsome, and said to be fabulously wealthy—­showed a distinct preference for her over all the other marriageable girls he met, she was flattered out of her silly wits.  Before they left Monte Carlo for Paris everybody could see that he had only to ask her hand, to have it bestowed upon him.  For although the baron never has cared for the man, Athalie rules him, and her every caprice is humoured.

“But for all he was so ardent a lover, Monsieur Merode was slow in coming to the important point.  Perhaps his plans were not matured.  At any rate, he did not propose to Athalie at Monte Carlo; and, although he and his sister returned to Paris at the same time as the baron and his daughter, he still deferred the proposal.”

“Has he not made it yet?”

“Yes, Mr. Cleek.  He made it six weeks ago—­to be exact, two nights before the Villa de Carjorac was fired.”

“You think it was fired, then?”

“I do now, although I had no suspicion of it at the time.  Athalie received her proposal on the Saturday, the baron gave his consent on the Sunday, and on Monday night the villa was mysteriously burnt, leaving all three of us without an immediate refuge.  In the meantime, Madame la Comtesse had purchased the ruin of the Chateau Larouge, and during the period of her brother’s deferred proposal was engaged in fitting it up as an abode for herself and him.  On the very day it was finished, Monsieur Merode asked for Athalie’s hand.”

“Oho!” said Cleek, with a strong rising inflection.  “I think I begin to smell the toasting of the cheese.  Of course, when the villa was burnt out, Madame la Comtesse insisted that, as the fiancee of her brother, Mlle. de Carjorac must make her home at the Chateau until the necessary repairs could be completed; and, of course, the baron had to go with her?”