monarch

Oise, north of Paris, has always been considered one of the richest and most beautiful provinces in France.On this vast plain, there are dotted with forests, fields and vineyards, as well as beautiful towns with various styles.

Compiègne, which is about four hours away from Paris by carriage, is the most dazzling pearl in this province. It has experienced the poison of the Hundred Years War and has now returned to the prosperity of its heyday.This small town is located not far from the Royal Grove. Every year during the hunting season, the nobles of Paris come here in droves to try their luck.Over time, the residents of this small town have become more or less aristocratic, and their gestures are much more elegant than those of the surrounding villagers.

Let’s say it was an afternoon in late spring. By the fountain in front of the town hall, residents enjoying their leisure time were sitting together in groups of three or four, drinking locally produced fruit wine.

A four-wheeled carriage pulled by two horses drove into the square, circled the fountain under the gaze of everyone, and stopped in front of the largest building on the square.

Among the aristocrats who travel between Compiègne and Paris, the Three Crowns Hotel is quite famous. As long as travelers who have stayed here once, they will remember the cleanliness of the rooms and the delicious food here, as well as the The graciousness and thoughtfulness of the guys.

The proprietress of the hotel is an English woman. When she and her husband first moved here, there was a whirlwind of curiosity. After all, although there are many foreign tourists in this hunting town, this lady is the first to buy a house and open a store here. foreigners.Unlike ordinary couples, the husband stayed in the house all day long. According to the servants who worked in the hotel, he looked sick and seemed to have a tuberculosis, so the whole hotel was managed by the English wife. She manages it with all her strength, and she seems to have a talent for doing business, making the hotel a prosperous business.

When the carriage stopped in front of the hotel, the proprietress was already waiting at the door. She was wearing a red and black dress, a golden tiara on her head, and her skin was a healthy brown. She didn't look like the usual British woman.

No sooner had the carriage come to a stop than the hostess put on that courteous smile common to innkeepers. She raised her skirts and went down the steps. Curtseyed to them.

"Welcome, gentlemen." The voice of the proprietress reminds me of the sweetness of the local specialty fruit wine, which is sweet but not greasy.

Two gentlemen got out of the carriage, they were wearing black coats, one looked tall and serious, the other looked much more talkative.

"Good day, ma'am, we wrote to you from London to make a reservation." The kind gentleman took the landlady's hand, bowed and kissed it.

"Yes, yes, I remember." The proprietress waved to the man to unload the luggage of the two passengers. "The two must be Sir Henry Macmillan and Lord John Cornwallis."

"It's us. Next is Sir Henry Macmillan." The kind gentleman nodded and pointed to his traveling companion. "This is my friend Sir John Cornwallis."

The baron nodded coldly in return.

"Please come in quickly, gentlemen." The proprietress greeted with a smile, "I am Mrs. Margaret Sewell, the proprietress here, and I am always at your service." She took a few steps forward quickly, stretched out her hand He opened the door, "Are gentlemen here to participate in the hunting season here? Now more and more British nobles come here, and they all like to come to stay with me. I'm not boasting, everyone feels at home. "

"I suppose every traveler would like to stay with a hospitable fellow countryman," replied Sir Henry Macmillan. "Compiègne's hunting season is so famous that we wanted to experience it, and More than one of my friends has recommended your hotel to me, saying that your Three Crowns Hotel is the best country hotel in the whole of northern France."

"No matter which gentleman said it, I thank him for his compliment, and I will try my best not to disappoint you two." Mrs. Sewell clapped her hands with a smile. Rest for a while, or do you want to eat? I think the two of you must be tired and hungry after traveling all the way."

"You're right, ma'am. Please take us to our room first. If possible, please prepare us something to eat in half an hour. Although it's a bit late for lunch, we haven't been here since we got up early in the morning." Eaten, you know, it's not always the best time to travel."

"Okay, okay, that's the case, I fully understand, and I must do what the two gentlemen want." After Mrs. Sevier walked back to the counter, she found a key from the wall, "Please, Mrs. Follow me upstairs."

The two guests followed her up to the second floor. The corridor on the second floor was very wide. There were several oil paintings depicting pastoral scenes hanging on the walls covered with golden yellow wallpaper. These decorations are not expensive, but they greatly enhance the taste of the whole hotel. It is obvious that Mrs. Sewell has made a very good investment.

As they walked through a door, there was a sudden violent coughing, followed by a frenzied and rapid panting, reminiscent of the struggle of a drowning person, as if the person who made the sound was about to suffocate. .

Mrs. Sevier's face turned slightly pale, and the smile on her face also became stiff. The remaining smile hung on her face, like a fruit that no one picked was gradually moldy and rotted on the branch.

"I'm sorry, it's my husband. Please wait a moment, gentlemen." Mrs. Sevier apologized, walked quickly to the door of that room, turned the door handle, and pushed the door open.

In the room, beside the bed not far from the door, was a reclining chair. Sitting on the reclining chair was a thin man, wrapped tightly in a thick blanket, with no trace of blood on his sallow face.If it weren't for the still rolling eyes and violently heaving chest, he would look no different from a dead body.

The two guests asked about the indescribable smell that is common in patients' rooms coming from the room. It was a mixture of soup and body odor, which was once described as the breath of death, and the two guests could not help He covered his mouth and nose.

Mrs. Sewell hurriedly opened the window of the room, and a breeze blew into the room, carrying the aroma of lilies and shrubs in the garden flower beds outside. The air is like a fish left on the sand after the tide goes out.

"Sorry, this is my husband, Louis Xavier, he has a lung disease." Mrs. Xavier quickly picked up a glass of potion on the small coffee table, and gave her husband a drink.

"You feel better, my dear." She still had that stiff smile on her face, and patted her husband on the back lightly.

The husband didn't answer, just nodded slightly, looking as if all his strength had been drained, and he slumped on his recliner.Those small yellow eyes like mice stared straight at the two guests outside the door, and the eyeballs kept turning, making them frown.

"I'm going to take care of the guests. I'll come back to see you later." Mrs. Sevier put the empty cup back on the coffee table, retreated from the room, and immediately closed the door, as if the room was closed. What a beast.

"I'm really sorry for letting the two of you see this terrible scene." She saluted the guests again, her voice trembling obviously, "You two also know that lung disease is really tormenting people, he doesn't look good at all, if I am very sorry to have surprised the gentlemen."

"I fully understand." That Sir Henry Macmillan nodded, held the landlady's hand comfortingly, and patted it slightly.

The proprietress regained her composure, pulled her hand out again, and smiled gratefully at the other party, "Thank you for your understanding, now please go with me, both of you."

They walked forward along the corridor until they reached another door. The proprietress inserted the key in her hand into the lock, turned it lightly, and opened the door.

This suite consists of a small living room and two bedrooms, each with a window facing the patio, just open the window and you can see the morning glories climbing all the way up the patio wall , creeper and clematis, these natural decorations give this simple and monotonous patio a bit of lovely vitality.

Several clerks moved the luggage of the two guests into the room and placed them neatly in the corner.

"Please come downstairs for dinner in half an hour." After personally supervising the guys to put the luggage of the two guests, the proprietress turned around and bowed to the guests again, "If there is no other order, I will Take your leave first."

"Thank you very much." Sir Macmillan took out a gold coin from his purse and put it in the proprietress's hand. He noticed that the proprietress's palms were full of sweat.

The proprietress gave another deep salute, "Sir is very generous." She walked out of the room backwards and closed the door behind her.

The two guests exchanged a colour, and the tall man, who called himself Lord John Cornwallis, tiptoed to the door with a soft step not befitting his stature, and listened.

After about half a minute, he turned around and nodded towards his traveling companion, "She has gone downstairs."

"That's all right." His traveling companion took off his hat, threw it casually on an armchair nearby, and went to sit down in front of the sofa. "Now, Ponsonby, which bedroom do you want?"

"You should also be more cautious, my Lord Baron Burleigh, Mr. William Cecil." The other party replied.

Cecil, who had recovered her identity in private, whistled nonchalantly, "You said, she has already gone down. Are we going to call each other Henry and John in the future? These two names sound really strange."

"But what if I got it wrong? What if she didn't go downstairs, but hid in the corridor to listen to us?" Baron Ponsonby glared at him. "You think if she knows We are His Majesty's people, what will happen?"

"Okay, okay." Cecil raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, "I will be cautious in front of our lovely lady boss, this Miss Margaret Barton, today's Margaret Se Mrs. Weir, although she looks amiable, is actually a shrewd and capable character." He paused for a moment, "Her family members were killed in the fire, do you think she knows the bad news?"

"I don't think I know," replied Ponsonby. "What do you think she married to France for?"

"Maybe it's to get rid of her quagmire family." Cecil said, "That family has swallowed her sister. If she hadn't escaped in time, she would have been buried in the flames by now. I have to say, we The proprietress is really smart and decisive, but the latter is much rarer than the former."

"You're right to think so." Ponsonby walked across from Cecil and looked down at him, "but I'm more interested in that Mr. Sewell than in that lady." He paused After a moment, "I don't like the way he looks at me."

"Didn't he have a lung disease? Patients are always moody, and that's their prerogative."

"I don't know why, I just feel something is wrong." Ponsonby lowered his head and frowned.

"Okay, then you can continue to think about it, I will choose the bedroom on the left, and you don't mind if you think about it." Cecil said and walked towards the door on the left.

Ponsonby snorted coldly, but he didn't stop him.

Half an hour later, Cecil, who had changed his clothes, returned to the living room, where his traveling companion was already waiting.Ponsonby sat in an armchair, staring out the window, meditating with a glass of wine in his hand, and didn't even notice that the other party came out of his bedroom.

"Still thinking about that husband?" Cecil walked behind Ponsonby and patted him on the shoulder.

"If you sneak behind me like this again, I might break your neck." Ponsonby drank the wine in his glass.

"Sorry for interrupting your thinking." Cecil shrugged, "So what have you achieved?"

"I was thinking about that Mrs. Sewell's expression... Didn't you notice that her expression was very stiff? And when she was taking care of her husband, there was no sign of concern on her face at all, not at all like a wife saw The reaction when it came to my husband."

"Maybe she's tired of him? As you can see, the gentleman doesn't live long. I think he must have realized this, so he tortured others twice. Maybe his wife has already regarded him as a A liability, desperate to get rid of him, it's not out of the question."

Ponsonby didn't answer, apparently not so satisfied with this explanation, but he couldn't think of any reason to refute it.

"Let's go to dinner first." Cecil straightened his collar, "If there is really something wrong with this good husband, then he will always show his feet."

The two opened the door and walked toward the stairs the way they had come. When they passed by the husband's room, there was another violent coughing and panting sound from the door, which came from the depths of the chest. The heart-piercing cough sounded creepy, and then turned into a hoarse panting, as if every breath was a torture.

"It's terrible." Cecil seemed to tremble. "I don't think he will live long. I have an uncle like this. He only lived for three months after he developed such a serious condition."

Ponsonby was noncommittal, and they walked quickly down the stairs together.

Mrs. Sewell was already waiting for them in the hall, and she still looked smiling, but a closer look revealed a thicker blush than before, apparently to conceal her pallor.

"Gentlemen, the meal is ready." She walked in front and led the two guests into the restaurant.

Once inside, the two guests noticed the aroma of garlic and meat mixed with the smell of melted cheese, which is common in Provence kitchens.Add that aroma of nutmeg, cloves and pepper to the index finger of two already hungry guests.

"Our chef is from Provence. He prepared a Mediterranean-style lunch for the two gentlemen, although it was a bit late." Mrs. Sewell led the two guests to a clean table, which was already set. He bought two sets of knives and forks and a bottle of vintage Anjou wine. Fresh strawberries and cherries were placed on the sky-blue porcelain plate, and a grape leaf was placed on the bottom according to the elegant habits of the day.

The two guests opened their chairs and sat down. Mrs. Sewell poured a glass of wine for each of them, and the maid brought out steaming Provence fish soup and fried cod with garlic from the kitchen.

"I wish the two gentlemen a good appetite." She put down the wine bottle and watched the two guests taste the fine wine that had just been taken out of the cellar.

"Your wine is really delicious." Cecil nodded appreciatively.

The hostess seemed quite complacent. Just as she was about to say something, there was another coughing sound from upstairs. The sound passed through the corridor and the floor. drum.

Just like before, the face of the hostess changed drastically in an instant, and she tightly twisted the handkerchief in her hands, as if to suppress the trembling in her hands.

"It's my husband who fell ill again." She forced a smile on her face, but the slightly deformed corners of her mouth made this smile look very strange, "Sylvia will serve you two meals." She pointed to the station Maid on the side.

"Madam, please help yourself." Cecil nodded.

Mrs. Sewell lifted her skirt and left the dining room quickly.

Cecil and Ponsonby exchanged glances, picked up a spoon and began to enjoy the fish soup in front of them, while the dull coughing upstairs did not stop.