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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:35:03 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:35:03 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/10718-0.txt b/10718-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..12eac31 --- /dev/null +++ b/10718-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10221 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10718 *** +THE HOUSE OF WHISPERS + +By + +WILLIAM LE QUEUX + +1910 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER I +THE LAIRD OF GLENCARDINE + +CHAPTER II +FROM OUT THE NIGHT + +CHAPTER III +SEALS OF DESTINY + +CHAPTER IV +SOMETHING CONCERNING JAMES FLOCKART + +CHAPTER V +THE MURIES OF CONNACHAN + +CHAPTER VI +CONCERNS GABRIELLE'S SECRET + +CHAPTER VII +CONTAINS CURIOUS CONFIDENCES + +CHAPTER VIII +CASTING THE BAIT + +CHAPTER IX +REVEALS A MYSTERIOUS BUSINESS + +CHAPTER X +DECLARES A WOMAN'S LOVE + +CHAPTER XI +CONCERNS THE WHISPERS + +CHAPTER XII +EXPLAINS SOME CURIOUS FACTS + +CHAPTER XIII +WHAT FLOCKART FORESAW + +CHAPTER XIV +CONCERNS THE CURSE OF THE CARDINAL + +CHAPTER XV +FOLLOWS FLOCKART'S FORTUNES + +CHAPTER XVI +SHOWS A GIRL'S BONDAGE + +CHAPTER XVII +DESCRIBES A FRENCHMAN'S VISIT + +CHAPTER XVIII +REVEALS THE SPY + +CHAPTER XIX +SHOWS GABRIELLE DEFIANT + +CHAPTER XX +TELLS OF FLOCKART'S TRIUMPH + +CHAPTER XXI +THROUGH THE MISTS + +CHAPTER XXII +BY THE MEDITERRANEAN + +CHAPTER XXIII +WHICH SHOWS A SHABBY FOREIGNER + +CHAPTER XXIV +"WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK" + +CHAPTER XXV +SHOWS GABRIELLE IN EXILE + +CHAPTER XXVI +THE VELVET PAW + +CHAPTER XXVII +BETRAYS THE BOND + +CHAPTER XXVIII +THE WHISPERS AGAIN + +CHAPTER XXIX +CONTAINS A FURTHER MYSTERY + +CHAPTER XXX +REVEALS SOMETHING TO HAMILTON + +CHAPTER XXXI +DESCRIBES A CURIOUS CIRCUMSTANCE + +CHAPTER XXXII +OUTSIDE THE WINDOW + +CHAPTER XXXIII +IS ABOUT THE MAISON LÉNARD + +CHAPTER XXXIV +SURPRISES MR. FLOCKART + +CHAPTER XXXV +DISCLOSES A SECRET + +CHAPTER XXXVI +IN WHICH GABRIELLE TELLS A STRANGE STORY + +CHAPTER XXXVII +INCREASES THE INTEREST + +CHAPTER XXXVIII +"THAT MAN'S VOICE!" + +CHAPTER XXXIX +CONTAINS THE CONCLUSION + + + + +THE HOUSE OF WHISPERS + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE LAIRD OF GLENCARDINE + + +"Why, what's the matter, child? Tell me." + +"Nothing, dad--really nothing." + +"But you are breathing hard; your hand trembles; your pulse beats +quickly. There's something amiss--I'm sure there is. Now, what is it? +Come, no secrets." + +The girl, quickly snatching away her hand, answered with a forced laugh, +"How absurd you really are, dear old dad! You're always fancying +something or other." + +"Because my senses of hearing and feeling are sharper and more developed +than those of other folk perhaps," replied the grey-bearded old +gentleman, as he turned his sharp-cut, grey, but expressionless +countenance to the tall, sweet-faced girl standing beside his chair. + +No second glance was needed to realise the pitiful truth. The man seated +there in his fine library, with the summer sunset slanting across the +red carpet from the open French windows, was blind. + +Since his daughter Gabrielle had been a pretty, prattling child of nine, +nursing her dolly, he had never looked upon her fair face. But he was +ever as devoted to her as she to him. + +Surely his was a sad and lonely life. Within the last fifteen years or +so great wealth had come to him; but, alas! he was unable to enjoy it. +Until eleven years ago he had been a prominent figure in politics and in +society in London. He had sat in the House for one of the divisions of +Hampshire, was a member of the Carlton, and one year he found his name +among the Birthday Honours with a K.C.M.G. For him everybody predicted a +brilliant future. The Press gave prominence to his speeches, and to his +house in Park Street came Cabinet Ministers and most of the well-known +men of his party. Indeed, it was an open secret in a certain circle that +he had been promised a seat in the Cabinet in the near future. + +Then, at the very moment of his popularity, a terrible tragedy had +occurred. He was on the platform of the Albert Hall addressing a great +meeting at which the Prime Minister was the principal speaker. His +speech was a brilliant one, and the applause had been vociferous. Full +of satisfaction, he drove home that night to Park Street; but next +morning the report spread that his brilliant political career had ended. +He had suddenly been stricken by blindness. + +In political circles and in the clubs the greatest consternation was +caused, and some strange gossip became rife. + +It was whispered in certain quarters that the affliction was not +produced by natural causes. In fact, it was a mystery, and one that had +never been solved. The first oculists of Europe had peered into and +tested his eyes, but all to no purpose. The sight had gone for ever. + +Therefore, full of bitter regrets at being thus compelled to renounce +the stress and storm of political life which he loved so well, Sir Henry +Heyburn had gone into strict retirement at Glencardine, his beautiful +old Perthshire home, visiting London but very seldom. + +He was essentially a man of mystery. Even in the days of his universal +popularity the source of his vast wealth was unknown. His father, the +tenth Baronet, had been sadly impoverished by the depreciation of +agricultural property in Lincolnshire, and had ended his days in the +genteel quietude of the Albany. But Sir Henry, without betraying to the +world his methods, had in fifteen years amassed a fortune which people +guessed must be considerably over a million sterling. + +From a life of strenuous activity he had, in one single hour, been +doomed to one of loneliness and inactivity. His friends sympathised, as +indeed the whole British public had done; but in a month the tragic +affair and its attendant mysterious gossip had been forgotten, as in +truth had the very name of Sir Henry Heyburn, whom the Prime Minister, +though his political opponent, had one night designated in the House as +"one of the most brilliant and talented young men who has ever sat upon +the Opposition benches." + +In his declining years the life of this man was a pitiful tragedy, his +filmy eyes sightless, his thin white fingers ever eager and nervous, his +hours full of deep thought and silent immobility. To him, what was the +benefit of that beautiful Perthshire castle which he had purchased from +Lord Strathavon a year before his compulsory retirement? What was the +use of the old ancestral manor near Caistor in Lincolnshire, or the +town-house in Park Street, the snug hunting-box at Melton, or the +beautiful palm-shaded, flower-embowered villa overlooking the blue +southern sea at San Remo? He remembered them all. He had misty visions +of their splendour and their luxury; but since his blindness he had +seldom, if ever, entered them. That big library up in Scotland in which +he now sat was the room he preferred; and with his daughter Gabrielle to +bear him company, to smooth his brow with her soft hand, to chatter and +to gossip, he wished for no other companion. His life was of the past, a +meteor that had flashed and had vanished for ever. + +"Tell me, child, what is troubling you?" he was asking in a calm, kind +voice, as he still held the girl's hand in his. The sweet scent of the +roses from the garden beyond filled the room. + +A smart footman in livery opened the door at that moment, asking, +"Stokes has just returned with the car from Perth, Sir Henry, and asks +if you want him further at present." + +"No," replied his blind master. "Has he brought back her ladyship?" + +"Yes, Sir Henry," replied the man. "I believe he is taking her to the +ball over at Connachan to-night." + +"Oh, yes, of course. How foolish I am! I quite forgot," said the Baronet +with a slight sigh. "Very well, Hill." + +And the clean-shaven young man, with his bright buttons bearing the +chevron _gules_ betwixt three boars' heads erased _sable_, of the +Heyburns, bowed and withdrew. + +"I had quite forgotten the ball at Connachan, dear," exclaimed her +father, stretching out his thin white hand in search of hers again. "Of +course you are going?" + +"No, dad; I'm staying at home with you." + +"Staying at home!" echoed Sir Henry. "Why, my dear Gabrielle, the first +year you're out, and missing the best ball in the county! Certainly not. +I'm all right. I shan't be lonely. A little box came this morning from +the Professor, didn't it?" + +"Yes, dad." + +"Then I shall be able to spend the evening very well alone. The +Professor has sent me what he promised the other day." + +"I've decided not to go," was the girl's firm reply. + +"I fear, dear, your mother will be very annoyed if you refuse," he +remarked. + +"I shall risk that, dear old dad, and stay with you to-night. Please +allow me," she added persuasively, taking his hand in hers and bending +till her red lips touched his white brow. "You have quite a lot to do, +remember. A big packet of papers came from Paris this morning. I must +read them over to you." + +"But your mother, my dear! Your absence will be commented upon. People +will gossip, you know." + +"There is but one person I care for, dad--yourself," laughed the girl +lightly. + +"Perhaps you're disappointed over a new frock or something, eh?" + +"Not at all. My frock came from town the day before yesterday. Elise +declares it suits me admirably, and she's very hard to please, you know. +It's white, trimmed with tiny roses." + +"A perfect dream, I expect," remarked the blind man, smiling. "I wish I +could see you in it, dear. I often wonder what you are like, now that +you've grown to be a woman." + +"I'm like what I always have been, dad, I suppose," she laughed. + +"Yes, yes," he sighed, in pretence of being troubled. "Wilful as always. +And--and," he faltered a moment later, "I often hear your dear dead +mother's voice in yours." Then he was silent, and by the deep lines in +his brow she knew that he was thinking. + +Outside, in the high elms beyond the level, well-kept lawn, with its +grey old sundial, the homecoming rooks were cawing prior to settling +down for the night. No other sound broke the stillness of that quiet +sunset hour save the solemn ticking of the long, old-fashioned clock at +the farther end of the big, book-lined room, with its wide fireplace, +great overmantel of carved stone with emblazoned arms, and its three +long windows of old stained glass which gave it a somewhat +ecclesiastical aspect. + +"Tell me, child," repeated Sir Henry at length, "what was it that upset +you just now?" + +"Nothing, dad--unless--well, perhaps it's the heat. I felt rather unwell +when I went out for my ride this morning," she answered with a frantic +attempt at excuse. + +The blind man was well aware that her reply was but a subterfuge. +Little, however, did he dream the cause. Little did he know that a dark +shadow had fallen upon the young girl's life--a shadow of evil. + +"Gabrielle," he said in a low, intense voice, "why aren't you open and +frank with me as you once used to be? Remember that you, my daughter, +are my only friend!" + +Slim, dainty, and small-waisted, with a sweet, dimpled face, and blue +eyes large and clear like a child's, a white throat, a well-poised head, +and light-chestnut hair dressed low with a large black bow, she +presented the picture of happy, careless youth, her features soft and +refined, her half-bare arms well moulded, and hands delicate and white. +She wore only one ornament--upon her left hand was a small signet-ring +with her monogram engraved, a gift from one of her governesses when a +child, and now worn upon the little finger. + +That face was strikingly beautiful, it had been remarked more than once +in London; but any admiration only called forth the covert sneers of +Lady Heyburn. + +"Why don't you tell me?" urged the blind man. "Why don't you tell me the +truth?" he protested. + +Her countenance changed when she heard his words. In her blue eyes was a +look of abject fear. Her left hand was tightly clenched and her mouth +set hard, as though in resolution. + +"I really don't know what you mean, dad," she responded with a hollow +laugh. "You have such strange fancies nowadays." + +"Strange fancies, child!" echoed the afflicted man, lifting his grey, +expressionless face to hers. "A blind man has always vague, suspicious, +and black forebodings engendered by the darkness and loneliness of his +life. I am no exception," he sighed. "I think ever of the +might-have-beens." + +"No, dear," exclaimed the girl, bending until her lips touched his white +brow softly. "Forget it all, dear old dad. Surely your days here, with +me, quiet and healthful in this beautiful Perthshire, are better, better +by far, than if you had been a politician up in London, ever struggling, +ever speaking, and ever bearing the long hours at the House and the +eternal stress of Parliamentary life?" + +"Yes, yes," he said, just a trifle impatiently. "It is not that. I don't +regret that I had to retire, except--well, except for your sake perhaps, +dear." + +"For my sake! How?" + +"Because, had I been a member of this Cabinet--which some of my friends +predicted--you would have had the chance of a good marriage. But buried +as you are down here instead, what chances have you?" + +"I want no chance, dad," replied the girl. "I shall never marry." + +A painful thought crossed the old man's mind, being mirrored upon his +brow by the deep lines which puckered there for a few brief moments. +"Well," he exclaimed, smiling, "that's surely no reason why you should +not go to the ball at Connachan to-night." + +"I have my duty to perform, dad; my duty is to remain with you," she +said decisively. "You know you have quite a lot to do, and when your +mother has gone we'll spend an hour or two here at work." + +"I hear that Walter Murie is at home again at Connachan. Hill told me +this morning," remarked her father. + +"So I heard also," answered the girl. + +"And yet you are not going to the ball, Gabrielle, eh?" laughed the old +man mischievously. + +"Now come, dad," the girl exclaimed, colouring slightly, "you're really +too bad! I thought you had promised me not to mention him again." + +"So I did, dear; I--I quite forgot," replied Sir Henry apologetically. +"Forgive me. You are now your own mistress. If you prefer to stay away +from Connachan, then do so by all means. Only, make a proper excuse to +your mother; otherwise she will be annoyed." + +"I think not, dear," his daughter replied in a meaning tone. "If I +remain at home she'll be rather glad than otherwise." + +"Why?" inquired the old man quickly. + +The girl hesitated. She saw instantly that her remark was an unfortunate +one. "Well," she said rather lamely, "because my absence will relieve +her of the responsibility of acting as chaperon." + +What else could she say? How could she tell her father--the kindly but +afflicted man to whom she was devoted--the bitter truth? His lonely, +dismal life was surely sufficiently hard to bear without the extra +burden of suspicion, of enforced inactivity, of fierce hatred, and of +bitter regret. So she slowly disengaged her hand, kissed him again, and +with an excuse that she had the menus to write for the dinner-table, +went out, leaving him alone. + +When the door had closed a great sigh sounded through the long, +book-lined room, a sigh that ended in a sob. + +The old man had leaned his chin upon his hands, and his sightless eyes +were filled with tears. "Is it the truth?" he murmured to himself. "Is +it really the truth?" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +FROM OUT THE NIGHT + + +There are few of the Perthshire castles that more plainly declare their +feudal origin and exhibit traces of obsolete power than does the great +gaunt pile of ruins known as Glencardine. Its situation is both +picturesque and imposing, and the stern aspect of the two square +baronial towers which face the south, perched on a sheer precipice that +descends to the Ruthven Water deep below, shows that the castle was once +the residence of a predatory chief in the days before its association +with the great Montrose. + +Two miles from the long, straggling village of Auchterarder, in the +centre of a fine, well-wooded, well-kept estate, the great ruined castle +stands a silent monument of warlike days long since forgotten. There, +within those walls, now overgrown with ivy and weeds, and where big +trees grow in the centre of what was once the great paved courtyard, +Montrose schemed and plotted, and, according to tradition, kept certain +of his enemies in the dungeons below. + +In the twelfth century the aspect of the deep glen was very different +from what it is to-day. In those days the Ruthven was a broad river, +flowing swiftly down to the Earn, and forming, by reason of a moat, an +effective barrier against attack. To-day, however, the river has +diminished into a mere burn meandering through a beautiful wooded glen +three hundred feet below, a glen the charms of which are well known +throughout the whole of Scotland, and where in summer tourists from +England endeavour to explore, but are warned back by Stewart, Sir +Henry's Highland keeper. + +A quarter of a mile from the great historic ruin is the modern castle, +built mainly of stone from the ancient structure early in the eighteenth +century, with oak-panelled rooms, many quaint gables, stained glass, and +long, echoing corridors--a residence well adapted for entertaining on a +lavish scale, the front overlooking the beautiful glen, and the back +with level lawns and stretch of undulating park, well wooded and full of +picturesque beauty. + +The family traditions and history of the old place and its owners had +induced Sir Henry Heyburn, himself a Fellow of the Society of +Antiquaries, to purchase it from Lord Strathavon, into whose possession +it had passed some forty years previously. + +History showed that William de Graeme or Graham, who settled in Scotland +in the twelfth century, became Lord of Glencardine, and the great castle +was built by his son. They were indeed a noble race, as their biographer +has explained. Ever fearless in their country's cause, they sneered at +the mandates from impregnable Stirling, and were loyal in every +generation. + +Glencardine was a stronghold feared by all the surrounding nobles, and +its men were full of valour and bravery. One story of them is perhaps +worth the telling. In the year 1490 the all-powerful Abbot of Inchaffray +issued an order for the collection of the teinds of the Killearns' lands +possessed by the Grahams of Glencardine in the parish of Monzievaird, of +which he was titular. The order was rigorously executed, the teinds +being exacted by force. + +Lord Killearn of Dunning Castle was from home at the time; but in his +absence his eldest son, William, Master of Dunning, called out a number +of his clansmen, and marched towards Glencardine for the purpose of +putting a stop to the abbot's proceedings. The Grahams of Glencardine, +having been apprised of their neighbour's intention, mustered in strong +force, and marched to meet him. The opposing forces encountered each +other at the north side of Knock Mary, about two miles to the south-west +of Crieff, while a number of the clan M'Robbie, who lived beside the +Loch of Balloch, marched up the south side of the hill, halting at the +top to watch the progress of the combat. The fight began with great fury +on both sides. The Glencardine men, however, began to get the upper hand +and drive their opponents back, when the M'Robbies rushed down the hill +to the succour of the Killearns. The tables were now turned. The Grahams +were unable to maintain their ground against the combined forces which +they had now to face, and fled towards Glencardine, taking refuge in the +Kirk of Monzievaird. The Killearns had no desire to follow up their +success any farther, but at this stage they were joined by Duncan +Campbell of Dunstaffnage, who had come across from Argyllshire to avenge +the death of his father-in-law, Robert of Monzie, who, along with his +two sons, had a short time before been killed by the Lord of +Glencardine. + +An arrow shot from the church fatally wounded one of Campbell's men, and +so enraged were the besiegers at this that they set fire to the +heather-thatched building. Of the one hundred and sixty human beings who +are supposed to have been in the church, only one young lad escaped, and +this was effected by the help of one of the Killearns, who caught the +boy in his arms as he leaped out of the flames. The Killearns did not go +unpunished for their barbarous deed. Their leader, with several of his +chief retainers, was afterwards beheaded at Stirling, and an assessment +was imposed on the Killearns for behoof of the wives and children of the +Grahams who had perished by their hands. + +The Killearn by whose aid the young Graham had been saved was forced to +flee to Ireland, but he afterwards returned to Scotland, where he and +his attendants were known by the name of "Killearn Eirinich" (or +Ernoch), meaning Killearn of Ireland. The estate which he held, and +which is situated near Comrie, still bears that name. The site of the +Kirk of Monzievaird is now occupied by the mausoleum of the family of +Murray of Ochtertyre, which was erected in 1809. When the foundations +were being excavated a large quantity of charred bones and wood was +found. + +The history of Scotland is full of references to the doings at +Glencardine, the fine home of the great Lord Glencardine, and of events, +both in the original stronghold and in the present mansion, which have +had important bearings upon the welfare of the country. + +In the autumn of 1825 the celebrated poetess Baroness Nairne, who had +been born at Gask, a few miles away, visited Glencardine and spent +several weeks in the pleasantest manner. Within those gaunt ruins of the +old castle she first became inspired to write her celebrated "Castell +Gloom," near Dollar: + + Oh Castell Gloom! thy strength is gone, + The green grass o'er thee growin'; + On Hill of Care thou art alone, + The Sorrow round thee flowin'. + + Oh Castell Gloom! on thy fair wa's + Nae banners now are streamin'; + The howlit flits amang thy ha's, + And wild birds there are screamin'. + + Oh, mourn the woe! oh, mourn the crime + Frae civil war that flows! + Oh, mourn, Argyll, thy fallen line, + And mourn the great Montrose! + + The lofty Ochils bright did glow, + Though sleepin' was the sun; + But mornin's light did sadly show + What ragin' flames had done! + Oh, mirk, mirk was the misty cloud + That hung o'er thy wild wood! + Thou wert like beauty in a shroud, + And all was solitude. + +A volume, indeed, could be written upon the history, traditions, and +superstitions of Glencardine Castle, a subject in which its blind owner +took the keenest possible interest. But, tragedy of it all, he had never +seen the lovely old domain he had acquired! Only by Gabrielle's +descriptions of it, as she led him so often across the woods, down by +the babbling burn, or over the great ivy-covered ruins, did he know and +love it. + +Every shepherd of the Ochils knows of the Lady of Glencardine who, on +rare occasions, had been seen dressed in green flitting before the +modern mansion, and who was said to be the spectre of the young Lady +Jane Glencardine, who in 1710 was foully drowned in the Earn by her +jealous lover, the Lord of Glamis, and whose body was never recovered. +Her appearance always boded ill-fortune to the family in residence. + +Glencardine was scarcely ever without guests. Lady Heyburn, a shallow +and vain woman many years younger than her husband, was always +surrounded by her own friends. She hated the country, and more +especially what she declared to be the "deadly dullness" of her +Perthshire home. That moment was no exception. There were half-a-dozen +guests staying in the house, but neither Gabrielle nor her father took +the slightest interest in any of them. They had been, of course, invited +to the ball at Connachan, and at dinner had expressed surprise when +their host's pretty daughter, the belle of the county, had declared that +she was not going. + +"Oh, Gabrielle is really such a wayward child!" declared her ladyship to +old Colonel Burton at her side. "If she has decided not to go, no power +on earth will persuade her." + +"I'm not feeling at all well, mother," the girl responded from the +farther end of the table. "You'll make nice excuses for me, won't you?" + +"I think it's simply ridiculous!" declared the Baronet's wife. "Your +first season, too!" + +Gabrielle glanced round the table, coloured slightly, but said nothing. +The guests knew too well that in the Glencardine household there had +always been, and always would be, slightly strained relations between +her ladyship and her stepdaughter. + +For an hour after dinner all was bustle and excitement; then, in the +covered wagonette, the gay party drove away, while Gabrielle, standing +at the door, shouted after them a merry adieu. + +It was a bright, clear, moonlit night, so beautiful indeed that, +twisting a shawl about her shoulders, she went to her father's den, +where he usually smoked alone, and, taking his arm, led him out for a +walk into the park over that gravelled drive where, upon such nights as +that, 'twas said that the unfortunate Lady Jane could be seen. + +When alone, the sightless man could find his way quite well with the aid +of his stick. He knew every inch of his domain. Indeed, he could descend +from the castle by the winding path that led deep into the glen, and +across the narrow foot-bridges of the rushing Ruthven Water, or he could +traverse the most intricate paths through the woods by means of certain +landmarks which only he himself knew. He was ever fond of wandering +about the estate alone, and often took solitary walks on bright nights +with his stout stick tapping before him. On rare occasions, however, +when, in the absence of her ladyship, he enjoyed the company of pretty +Gabrielle, they would wander in the park arm-in-arm, chatting and +exchanging confidences. + +The departure of their house-party had lifted a heavy weight from both +their hearts. It would be dawn before they returned. She loved her +father, and was never happier than when describing to him things--the +smallest objects sometimes--which he himself could not see. + +As they strolled on beneath the shadows of the tall elms, the stillness +of the night was broken only by the quick scurry of a rabbit into the +tall bracken or the harsh cry of some night-bird startled by their +approach. + +Before them, standing black against the night-sky, rose the quaint, +ponderous, but broken walls of the ancient stronghold, where an owl +hooted weirdly in the ivy, and where the whispering of the waters rose +from the deep below. + +"It's a pity, dear, that you didn't go to the dance," the old man was +saying, her arm held within his own. "You've annoyed your mother, I +fear." + +"Mother is quite happy with her guests, dad; while I am quite happy with +you," she replied softly. "Therefore, why discuss it?" + +"But surely it is not very entertaining for you to remain here with a +man who is blind. Remember, you are young, and these golden days of +youth will very soon pass." + +"Why, you always entertain and instruct me, dad," she declared; "from +you I've learnt so much archaeology and so much about mediaeval seals +that I believe I am qualified to become a Fellow of the Society of +Antiquaries, if women were admitted to fellowship." + +"They will be one day, my dear, if the Suffragettes are allowed their +own way," he laughed. + +And then, during the full hour they strolled together, their +conversation mostly consisted of questions asked by her father +concerning some improvements being made in one of the farms which she +had visited on the previous day, and her description of what had been +done. + +The stable-clock had struck half-past ten on its musical chimes before +they re-entered the big hall, and, being relieved by Hill of the wraps, +passed together into the library, where, from a locked cabinet in a +corner, Gabrielle took a number of business papers and placed them upon +the writing-table before her father. + +"No," he said, running his thin white hands over them, "not business +to-night, dear, but pleasure. Where is that box from the Professor?" + +"It's here, dad. Shall I open it?" + +"Yes," he replied. "That dear old fellow never forgets his old friend. +Never a seal finds its way into the collection at Cambridge but he first +sends it to me for examination before it is catalogued. He knows what +pleasure it is to me to decipher them and make out their +history--almost, alas! the only pleasure left to me, except you, my +darling." + +"Professor Moyes adopts your opinion always, dad. He knows, as every +other antiquary knows, that you are the greatest living authority on the +subject which you have made a lifetime study--that of the bronze seals +of the Middle Ages." + +"Ah!" sighed the old man, "if I could only write my great book! It is +the pleasure debarred me. Years ago I started to collect material; but +my affliction came, and now I can only feel the matrices and picture +them in my mind. I see through your eyes, dear Gabrielle. To me, the +world I loved so much is only a blank darkness, with your dear voice +sounding out of it--the only voice, my child, that is music to my ears." + +The girl said nothing. She only glanced at the sad, expressionless face, +and, cutting the string of the small packet, displayed three bronze +seals--two oval, about two inches long, and the third round, about one +inch in diameter, and each with a small kind of handle on the reverse. +With them were sulphur-casts or impressions taken from them, ready to be +placed in the museum at Cambridge. + +The old man's nervous fingers travelled over the surfaces quickly, an +expression of complete satisfaction in his face. + +"Have you the magnifying-glass, dear? Tell me what you make of the +inscriptions," he said, at the same time carefully feeling the curious +mediaeval lettering of one of the casts. + +At the same instant she started, rose quickly from her chair, and held +her breath. + +A man, tall, dark-faced, and wearing a thin black overcoat, had entered +noiselessly from the lawn by the open window, and stood there, with his +finger upon his lips, indicating silence. Then he pointed outside, with +a commanding gesture that she should follow. + +Her eyes met his in a glance of fierce resentment, and instinctively she +placed her hand upon her breast, as though to stay the beating of her +heart. + +Again he pointed in silent authority, and she as though held in some +mysterious thraldom, made excuse to the blind man, and, rising, followed +in his noiseless footsteps. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +SEALS OF DESTINY + + +Ten minutes later she returned, panting, her face pale and haggard, her +mouth hard-set. For a moment she stood in silence upon the threshold of +the open doors leading to the grounds, her hand pressed to her breast in +a strenuous endeavour to calm herself. She feared that her father might +detect her agitation, for he was so quick in discovering in her the +slightest unusual emotion. She glanced behind her with an expression +full of fear, as though dreading the reappearance of that man who had +compelled her to follow him out into the night. Then she looked at her +father, who, still seated motionless with his back to her, was busy with +his fingers upon something on the blotting-pad before him. + +In that brief absence her countenance had entirely changed. She was pale +to the lips, with drawn brows, while about her mouth played a hard, +bitter expression, as though her mind were bent upon some desperate +resolve. + +That the man who had come there by stealth was no stranger was evident; +yet that between them was some deep-rooted enmity was equally apparent. +Nevertheless, he held her irresistibly within his toils. His +clean-shaven face was a distinctly evil one. His eyes were set too close +together, and in his physiognomy was something unscrupulous and +relentless. He was not the man for a woman to trust. + +She stepped back from the threshold, and for a few seconds halted +outside, her ears strained to catch any sound. Then, as though +reassured, she pushed the chestnut hair from her hot, fevered brow, held +her breath with strenuous effort, and, re-entering the library, advanced +to her father's side. + +"I wondered where you had gone, dear," he said in his low, calm voice, +as he detected her presence. "I hoped you would not leave me for long, +for it is not very often we enjoy an evening so entirely alone as +to-night." + +"Leave you, dear old dad! Why, of course not!" She laughed gaily, as +though nothing had occurred to disturb her peace of mind. "We were just +about to look at those seals Professor Moyes sent you to-day, weren't +we? Here they are;" and she placed them before the helpless and +afflicted man, endeavouring to remain undisturbed, and taking a chair at +his side, as was her habit when they sat together. + +"Yes," he said cheerfully. "Let us see what they are." + +The first of the yellow sulphur-casts which he examined bore the +full-length figure of an abbot, with mitre and crosier, in the act of +giving his blessing. Behind him were three circular towers with pointed +roofs surmounted by crosses, while around, in bold early Gothic letters, +ran the inscription + ++ S. BENEDITI . ABBATIS . SANTI . AMBROSII . D'RANCIA + + +Slowly and with great care his fingers travelled over the raised letters +and design of the oval cast. Then, having also examined the battered old +bronze matrix, he said, "A most excellent specimen, and in first-class +preservation, too! I wonder where it has been found? In Italy, without +doubt." + +"What do you make it out to be, dad?" asked the girl, seated in the +chair at his side and as interested in the little antiquity as he was +himself. + +"Thirteenth century, my dear--early thirteenth century," he declared +without hesitation. "Genuine, quite genuine, no doubt. The matrix shows +signs of considerable wear. Is there much patina upon it?" he asked. + +She turned it over, displaying that thick green corrosion which bronze +acquires only by great age. + +"Yes, quite a lot, dad. The raised portion at the back is pierced by a +hole very much worn." + +"Worn by the thong by which it was attached to the girdle of successive +abbots through centuries," he declared. "From its inscription, it is the +seal of the Abbot Benedict of the Monastery of St. Ambrose, of Rancia, +in Lombardy. Let me think, now. We should find the history of that house +probably in Sassolini's _Memorials_. Will you get it down, dear?--top +shelf of the fifth case, on the left." + +Though blind, he knew just where he could put his hand upon all his most +cherished volumes, and woe betide any one who put a volume back in its +wrong place! + +Gabrielle rose, and, obtaining the steps, reached down the great +leather-bound quarto book, which she carried to a reading-desk and at +once searched the index. + +The work was in Italian, a language which she knew fairly well; and +after ten minutes or so, during which time the blind man continued +slowly to trace the inscription with his finger-tips, she said, "Here it +is, dad. 'Rancia, near Cremona. The religious brotherhood was founded +there in 1132, and the Abbot Benedict was third abbot, from 1218 to +1231. The church still exists. The magnificent pulpit in marble, +embellished with mosaics, presented in 1272, rests on six columns +supported by lions, with an inscription: "_Nicolaus de Montava +marmorarius hoc opus fecit._" Opposite it is the ambo (1272), in a +simple style, with a representation of Jonah being swallowed by a whale. +In the choir is the throne adorned by mosaics, and the Cappella di San +Pantaleone contains the blood of the saint, together with some relics of +the Abbot Benedict. The cloisters still exist, though, of course, the +monastery is now suppressed.'" + +"And this," remarked Sir Henry, turning over the old bronze seal in his +hand, "belonged to the Abbot Ambrose six hundred and fifty years ago!" + +"Yes, dad," declared the girl, returning to his side and taking the +matrix herself to examine it under the green-shaded reading-lamp. "The +study of seals is most interesting. It carries one back into the dim +ages. I hope the Professor will allow you to keep these casts for your +collection." + +"Yes, I know he will," responded the old Baronet. "He is well aware what +a deep interest I take in my hobby." + +"And also that you are one of the first authorities in the world upon +the subject," added his daughter. + +The old man sighed. Would that he could see with his eyes once again; +for, after all, the sense of touch was but a poor substitute for that of +sight! + +He drew towards him the impression of the second of the oval seals. The +centre was divided into two portions. Above was the half-length figure +of a saint holding a closed book in his hand, and below was a youth with +long hands in the act of adoration. Between them was a scroll upon which +was written: "Sc. Martine O.P.N.," while around the seal were the words +in Gothic characters: + ++ SIGIL . HEINRICHI . PLEBANI . D' DOELSC'H + + +"This is fourteenth century," pronounced the Baronet, "and is from +Dulcigno, on the Adriatic--the seal of Henry, the vicar of the church of +that place. From the engraving and style," he said, still fingering it +with great care, now and then turning to the matrix in order to satisfy +himself, "I should place it as having been executed about 1350. But it +is really a very beautiful specimen, done at a time when the art of +seal-engraving was at its height. No engraver could to-day turn out a +more ornate and at the same time bold design. Moyes is really very +fortunate in securing this. You must write, my dear, and ask him how +these latest treasures came into his hands." + +At his request she got down another of the ponderous volumes of +Sassolini from the high shelf, and read to him, translating from the +Italian the brief notice of the ancient church of Dulcigno, which, it +appeared, had been built in the Lombard-Norman style of the eleventh +century, while the campanile, with columns from Paestum, dated from +1276. + +The third seal, the circular one, was larger than the rest, being quite +two inches across. In the centre of the top half was the Madonna with +Child, seated, a male and female figure on either side. Below were three +female figures on either side, the two scenes being divided by a festoon +of flowers, while around the edge ran in somewhat more modern +characters--those of the early sixteenth century--the following: + ++ SIGILLVM . VICARIS . GENERALIS . ORDINIS . BEATA . MARIA . D' MON . +CARMEL + + +"This," declared Sir Henry, after a long and most minute examination, +"is a treasure probably unequalled in the collection at Cambridge, being +the actual seal of the Vicar-General of the Carmelite order. Its date I +should place at about 1150. Look well, dear, at those flower garlands; +how beautifully they are engraved! Seal-making is, alas! to-day a lost +art. We have only crude and heavy attempts. The company seal seems +to-day the only thing the engraver can turn out--those machines which +emboss upon a big red wafer." And his busy fingers were continuously +feeling the great circular bronze matrix, and a moment afterwards its +sulphur-cast. + +He was an enthusiastic antiquary, and long ago, in the days when the +world was light, had read papers before the Society of Antiquaries at +Burlington House upon mediaeval seals and upon the early Latin codices. +Nowadays, however, Gabrielle acted as his eyes; and so devoted was she +to her father that she took a keen interest in his dry-as-dust hobbies, +so that after his long tuition she could decipher and read a +twelfth-century Latin manuscript, on its scrap of yellow, crinkled +parchment, and with all its puzzling abbreviations, almost as well as +any professor of palaeography at the universities, while inscriptions +upon Gothic seals were to her as plain as a paragraph in a newspaper. +More than once, white-haired, spectacled professors who came to +Glencardine as her father's guests were amazed at her intelligent +conversation upon points which were quite abstruse. Indeed, she had no +idea of the remarkable extent of her own antiquarian knowledge, all of +it gathered from the talented man whose affliction had kept her so close +at his side. + +For quite an hour her father fingered the three seal-impressions, +discussing them with her in the language of a savant. She herself +examined them minutely and expressed opinions. Now and then she glanced +apprehensively to that open window. He pointed out to her where she was +wrong in her estimate of the design of the circular one, explaining a +technical and little-known detail concerning the seals of the Carmelite +order. + +From the window a cool breath of the night-wind came in, fanning the +curtains and carrying with it the sweet scent of the flowers without. + +"How refreshing!" exclaimed the old man, drawing in a deep breath. "The +night is very close, Gabrielle, dear. I fear we shall have thunder." + +"There was lightning only a moment ago," explained the girl. "Shall I +put the casts into your collection, dad?" + +"Yes, dear. Moyes no doubt intends that I should keep them." + +Gabrielle rose, and, passing across to a large cabinet with many shallow +drawers, she opened one, displaying a tray full of casts of seals, each +neatly arranged, with its inscription and translation placed beneath, +all in her own clear handwriting. + +Some of the drawers contained the matrices as well as the casts; but as +matrices of mediaeval seals are rarities, and seldom found anywhere save +in the chief public museums, it is no wonder that the bulk of private +collections consist of impressions. + +Presently, at the Baronet's suggestion, she closed and locked the +cabinet, and then took up a bundle of business documents, which she +commenced to sort out and arrange. + +She acted as her father's private secretary, and therefore knew much of +his affairs. But many things were to her a complete mystery, be it said. +Though devoted to her father, she nevertheless sometimes became filled +with a vague suspicion that the source of his great income was not +altogether an open and honest one. The papers and letters she read to +him often contained veiled information which sorely puzzled her, and +which caused her many hours of wonder and reflection. Her father lived +alone, with only her as companion. Her stepmother, a young, +good-looking, and giddy woman, never dreamed the truth. + +What would she do, how would she act, Gabrielle wondered, if ever she +gained sight of some of those private papers kept locked in the cavity +beyond the black steel door concealed by the false bookcase at the +farther end of the fine old restful room? + +The papers she handled had been taken from the safe by Sir Henry +himself. And they contained a man's secret. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +SOMETHING CONCERNING JAMES FLOCKART + + +In the spreading dawn the house party had returned from Connachan and +had ascended to their rooms, weary with the night's revelry, the men +with shirt-fronts crumpled and ties awry, the women with hair +disordered, and in some cases with flimsy skirts torn in the mazes of +the dance. Yet all were merry and full of satisfaction at what one young +man from town had declared to be "an awfully ripping evening." All +retired at once--all save the hostess and one of her male guests, the +man who had entered the library by stealth earlier in the evening and +had called Gabrielle outside. + +Lady Heyburn and her visitor, James Flockart, had managed to slip away +from the others, and now stood together in the library, into which the +grey light of dawn was at that moment slowly creeping. + +He drew up one of the blinds to admit the light; and there, away over +the hills beyond, the glen showed the red flush that heralded the sun's +coming. Then, returning to where stood the young and attractive woman in +pale pink chiffon, with diamonds on her neck and a star in her fair +hair, he looked her straight in the face and asked, "Well, and what have +you decided?" + +She raised her eyes to his, but made no reply. She was hesitating. + +The gems upon her were heirlooms of the Heyburn family, and in that grey +light looked cold and glassy. The powder and the slight touch of carmine +upon her cheeks, which at night had served to heighten her beauty, now +gave her an appearance of painted artificiality. She was undeniably a +pretty woman, and surely required no artificial aids to beauty. About +thirty-three, yet she looked five years younger; while her husband was +twenty years senior to herself. She still retained a figure so girlish +that most people took her for Gabrielle's elder sister, while in the +matter of dress she was admitted in society to be one of the leaders of +fashion. Her hair was of that rare copper-gold tint, her features +regular, with a slightly protruding chin, soft eyes, and cheeks perfect +in their contour. Society knew her as a gay, reckless, giddy woman, who, +regardless of the terrible affliction which had fallen upon the +brilliant man who was her husband, surrounded herself with a circle of +friends of the same type as herself, and who thoroughly enjoyed her life +regardless of any gossip or of the malignant statements by women who +envied her. + +Men were fond of "Winnie Heyburn," as they called her, and always voted +her "good fun." They pitied poor Sir Henry; but, after all, he was +blind, and preferred his hobbies of collecting old seals and dusty +parchment manuscripts to dances, bridge-parties, theatres, aero shows at +Ranelagh, and suppers at the Carlton or Savoy. + +Like most wealthy women of her type, she had a wide circle of male +friends. Younger men declared her to be "a real pal," and with some of +the older beaux she would flirt and be amused by their flattering +speeches. + +Gabrielle's mother, the second daughter of Lord Buckhurst, had been dead +several years when the brilliant politician met his second wife at a +garden-party at Dollis Hill. She was daughter of a man named Lambert, a +paper manufacturer, who acted as political agent in the town of Bedford; +and she was, therefore, essentially a country cousin. Her beauty was, +however, remarked everywhere. The Baronet was struck by her, and within +three months they were married at St. George's, Hanover Square, the +world congratulating her upon a very excellent match. From the very +first, however, the difference in the ages of husband and wife proved a +barrier. Ere the honeymoon was over she found that her husband, tied by +his political engagements and by his eternal duties at the House, was +unable to accompany her out of an evening; hence from the very first +they had drifted apart, until, eight months later, the terrible +affliction of blindness fell upon him. + +For a time this drew her back to him. She was his constant and dutiful +companion everywhere, leading him hither and thither, and attending to +his wants; but very soon the tie bored her, and the attractions of +society once again proved too great. Hence for the past nine +years--Gabrielle being at school, first at Eastbourne and afterwards at +Amiens--she had amused herself and left her husband to his dry-as-dust +hobbies and the loneliness of his black and sunless world. + +The man who had just put that curious question to her was perhaps her +closest friend. To her he owed everything, though the world was in +ignorance of the fact. That they were friends everybody knew. Indeed, +they had been friends years ago in Bedford, before her marriage, for +James was the only son of the Reverend Henry Flockart, vicar of one of +the parishes in the town. People living in Bedford recollected that the +parson's son had turned out rather badly, and had gone to America. But a +year or two after that the quiet-mannered old clergyman had died, the +living had been given to a successor, and Bedford knew the name of +Flockart no more. After Winifred's marriage, however, London society--or +rather a gay section of it--became acquainted with James Flockart, who +lived at ease in his pretty bachelor-rooms in Half-Moon Street, and who +soon gathered about him a large circle of male acquaintances. Sir Henry +knew him, and raised no objection to his wife's friendship towards him. +They had been boy and girl together; therefore what more natural than +that they should be friends in later life? + +In her schooldays Gabrielle knew practically nothing of this man; but +now she had returned to be her father's companion she had met him, and +had bitter cause to hate both him and Lady Heyburn. It was her own +secret. She kept it to herself. She hid the truth from her father--from +every one. She watched closely and in patience. One day she would speak +and tell the truth. Until then, she resolved to keep to herself all that +she knew. + +"Well?" asked the man with the soft-pleated shirt-front and white +waistcoat smeared with cigarette-ash. "What have you decided?" he asked +again. + +"I've decided nothing," was her blank answer. + +"But you must. Don't be a silly fool," he urged. "You've surely had time +to think over it?" + +"No, I haven't." + +"The girl knows nothing. So what have you to fear?" he endeavoured to +assure her. + +Lady Heyburn shrugged her shoulders. "How can you prove that she knows +nothing?" + +"Oh, she has eyes for nobody but the old man," he laughed. "To-night is +an example. Why, she wouldn't come to Connachan, even though she knew +that Walter was there. She preferred to spend the evening here with her +father." + +"She's a little fool, of course, Jimmy," replied the woman in pink; "but +perhaps it was as well that she didn't come. I hate to have to chaperon +the chit. It makes me look so horribly old." + +"I wish to goodness the girl was out of the way!" he declared. "She's +sharper than we think, and, by Jove! if ever she did know what was in +progress it would be all up for both of us--wouldn't it? Phew! think of +it!" + +"If I thought she had the slightest suspicion," declared her ladyship +with a sudden hardness of her lips, "I'd--I'd close her mouth very +quickly." + +"And for ever, eh?" he asked meaningly. + +"Yes, for ever." + +"Bah!" he laughed. "You'd be afraid to do that, my dear Winnie," added +the man, lowering his voice. "Your husband is blind, it's true; but +there are other people in the world who are not. Recollect, Gabrielle is +now nineteen, and she has her eyes open. She's the eyes and ears of Sir +Henry. Not the slightest thing occurs in this household but it is told +to him at once. His indifference to all is only a clever pretence." + +"What!" she gasped quickly; "do you think he suspects?" + +"Pray, what can he suspect?" asked the man very calmly, both hands in +his trouser-pockets, as he leaned back against the table in front of +her. + +"He can only suspect things which his daughter knows," she said. + +"But what does she know? What can she know?" he asked. + +"How can we tell? I have watched, but can detect nothing. I am, however, +suspicious, because she did not come to Connachan with us to-night." + +"Why?" + +"Walter Murie may know something, and may have told her." + +"If so, then to close her lips would be useless. It would only bring a +heavier responsibility upon us--and----" But he hesitated, without +finishing his sentence. His meaning was apparent from the wry face she +pulled at his remark. He did not tell her how he had, while she had been +dancing and flirting that night, made his way back to the castle, or how +he had compelled Gabrielle to go forth and speak with him. His action +had been a bold one, yet its result had confirmed certain vague +suspicions he had held. + +Well he knew that the girl hated him heartily, and that she was in +possession of a certain secret of his--one which might easily result in +his downfall. He feared to tell the truth to this woman before him, for +if he did so she would certainly withdraw from all association with him +in order to save herself. + +The key to the whole situation was held by that slim, sweet-faced girl, +so devoted to her afflicted father. He was not quite certain as to the +actual extent of her knowledge, and was as yet undecided as to what +attitude he should adopt towards her. He stood between the Baronet's +wife and his daughter, and hesitated in which direction to follow. + +What did she really know, he wondered. Had she overheard any of that +serious conversation between Lady Heyburn and himself while they walked +together in the glen on the previous evening? Such a _contretemps_ was +surely impossible, for he remembered they had taken every precaution +lest even Stewart, the head gamekeeper, might be about in order to stop +trespassers, who, attracted by the beauties of Glencardine, tried to +penetrate and explore them, and by so doing disturbed the game. + +"And if the girl really knows?" he asked of the woman who stood there +motionless, gazing out across the lawn fixedly towards the dawn. + +"If she knows, James," she said in a hard, decisive tone, "then we must +act together, quickly and fearlessly. We must carry out that--that plan +you proposed a year ago!" + +"You are quite fearless, then," he asked, looking straight into her fine +eyes. + +"Fearless? Of course I am," she answered unflinchingly. "We must get rid +of her." + +"Providing we can do so without any suspicion falling upon us." + +"You seem to have become quite white-livered," she exclaimed to him with +a harsh, derisive laugh. "You were not so a year ago--in the other +affair." + +His brows contracted as he reflected upon all it meant to him. The girl +knew something; therefore, to seal her lips was imperative for their own +safety. She was their enemy. + +"You are mistaken," he answered in a low calm voice. "I am just as +determined--just as fearless--as I was then." + +"And you will do it?" she asked. + +"If it is your wish," he replied simply. + +"Good! Give me your hand. We are agreed. It shall be done." + +And the man took the slim white hand the woman held out to him, and a +moment later they ascended the great oak staircase to their respective +rooms. + +The pair were in accord. The future contained for Gabrielle +Heyburn--asleep and all unconscious of the dastardly conspiracy--only +that which must be hideous, tragic, fatal. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MURIES OF CONNACHAN + + +Elise, Lady Heyburn's French maid, discovered next morning that an +antique snake-bracelet was missing, a loss which occasioned great +consternation in the household. + +Breakfast was late, and at table, when the loss was mentioned, Gabrielle +offered to drive over to Connachan in the car and make inquiry and +search. The general opinion was that it had been dropped in one of the +rooms, and was probably still lying there undiscovered. + +The girl's offer was accepted, and half an hour later the smaller of the +two Glencardine cars--the "sixteen" Fiat--was brought round to the door +by Stokes, the smart chauffeur. Young Gellatly, fresh down from Oxford, +begged to be allowed to go with her, and his escort was accepted. + +Then, in motor-cap and champagne-coloured dust-veil, Gabrielle mounted +at the wheel, with the young fellow at her side and Stokes in the back, +and drove away down the long avenue to the high-road. + +The car was her delight. Never so happy was she as when, wrapped in her +leather-lined motor-coat, she drove the "sixteen." The six-cylinder +"sixty" was too powerful for her, but with the "sixteen" she ran +half-over Scotland, and was quite a common object on the Perth to +Stirling road. Possessed of nerve and full of self-confidence, she could +negotiate traffic in Edinburgh or Glasgow, and on one occasion had +driven her father the whole way from Glencardine up to London, a +distance of four hundred and fifty miles. Her fingers pressed the button +of the electric horn as they descended the sharp incline to the +lodge-gates; and, turning into the open road, she was soon speeding +along through Auchterarder village, skirted Tullibardine Wood, down +through Braco, and along by the Knaik Water and St. Patrick's Well into +Glen Artney, passing under the dark shadow of Dundurn, until there came +into view the broad waters of Loch Earn. + +The morning was bright and cloudless, and at such a pace they went that +a perfect wall of dust stood behind them. + +From the margin of the loch the ground rose for a couple of miles until +it reached a plateau upon which stood the fine, imposing Priory, the +ancestral seat of the Muries of Connachan. The aspect as they drove up +was very imposing. The winding road was closely planted with trees for a +large portion of its course, and the stately front of the western +entrance, with its massive stone portico and crenulated cornice, burst +unexpectedly upon them. + +From that point of view one seemed to have reached the gable-end of a +princely edifice, crowned with Gothic belfries; yet on looking round it +was seen that the approach by which the doorway had been reached was +lined on one side with buildings hidden behind the clustering foliage; +and through the archway on the left one caught a glimpse of the +ivy-covered clock-tower and spacious stable-yard and garage extending +northwards for a considerable distance. + +Gabrielle ran the car round to the south side of the house, where in the +foreground were the well-kept parks of Connachan, the smooth-shaven lawn +fringed with symmetrically planted trees, and the fertile fields +extending away to the very brink of the loch. + +The original fortalice of the Muries, half a mile distant, was, like +Glencardine, a ruin. The present Priory, notwithstanding its +old-fashioned towers and lancet windows, was a comparatively modern +structure, and the ivy which partially covered some of the windows could +claim no great antiquity; yet the general effect of the architectural +grouping was most pleasing, and might well deceive the visitor or +tourist into the supposition that it belonged to a very remote period. +It was, as a matter of fact, the work of Atkinson, who in the first +years of the nineteenth century built Scone, Abbotsford, and Taymouth +Castle. + +With loud warning blasts upon the horn, Gabrielle Heyburn pulled up; but +ere she could descend, Walter Murie, a good-looking, dark-haired young +man in grey flannels, and hatless, was outside, hailing her with +delight. + +"Hallo, Gabrielle!" he cried cheerily, taking her hand, "what brings you +over this morning, especially when we were told last night that you were +so very ill?" + +"The illness has passed," exclaimed young Gellatly, shaking his friend's +hand. "And we're now in search of a lost bracelet--one of Lady +Heyburn's." + +"Why, my mother was just going to wire! One of the maids found it in the +boudoir this morning, but we didn't know to whom it belonged. Come +inside. There are a lot of people staying over from last night." Then, +turning to Gabrielle, he added, "By Jove! what dust there must be on the +road! You're absolutely covered." + +"Well," she laughed lightly, "it won't hurt me, I suppose. I'm not +afraid of it." + +Stokes took charge of the car and shut off the petrol, while the three +went inside, passing into a long, cool cloister, down which was arranged +the splendid collection of antiques discovered or acquired by Malcolm +Murie, the well-known antiquary, who had spent many years in Italy, and +died in 1794. In cases ranged down each side of the long cloister, with +its antique carved chairs, armour, and statuary, were rare Etruscan and +Roman terra-cottas, one containing relics from the tomb of a warrior, +which included a sword-hilt adorned with gold and a portion of a golden +crown formed of lilies _in relievo_ of pure gold laid upon a mould of +bronze; another case was full of bronze ornaments unearthed near Albano, +and still another contained rare Abyssinian curios. The collection was +renowned among antiquaries, and was often visited by Sir Henry, who +would be brought there in the car by Gabrielle, and spend hours alone +fingering the objects in the various cases. + +Sir George Murie and Sir Henry Heyburn were close friends; therefore it +was but natural that Walter, the heir to the Connachan estate, and +Gabrielle should often be thrown into each other's company, or perhaps +that the young man--who for the past twelve months had been absent on a +tour round the world--should have loved her ever since the days when she +wore short skirts and her hair down her back. He had been sorely puzzled +why she had not at the last moment come to the ball. She had promised +that she would be with them, and yet she had made the rather lame excuse +of a headache. + +Truth to tell, Walter Murie had during the past week been greatly +puzzled at her demeanour of indifference. Seven days ago he had arrived +in London from New York, but found no letter from her awaiting him at +the club, as he had expected. The last he had received in Detroit a +month before, and it was strangely cold, and quite unusual. Two days ago +he had arrived home, and in secret she had met him down at the end of +the glen at Glencardine. At her wish, their first meeting had been +clandestine. Why? + +Both their families knew of their mutual affection. Therefore, why +should she now make a secret of their meeting after twelve months' +separation? He was puzzled at her note, and he was further puzzled at +her attitude towards him. She was cold and unresponsive. When he held +her in his arms and kissed her soft lips, she only once returned his +passionate caress, and then as though it were a duty forced upon her. +She had, however, promised to come to the ball. That promise she had +deliberately broken. + +Though he could not understand her, he made pretence of unconcern. He +regretted that she had not felt well last night--that was all. + +At the end of the cloister young Gellatly found one of Lady Murie's +guests, a girl named Violet Priest, with whom he had danced a good deal +on the previous night, and at once attached himself to her, leaving +Walter with the sweet-faced, slim-waisted object of his affections. + +The moment they were alone in the long cloister he asked her quickly, +"Tell me, Gabrielle, the real reason why you did not come last night. I +had looked forward very much to seeing you. But I was disappointed +--sadly disappointed." + +"I am very sorry," she laughed, with assumed nonchalance; "but I had to +assist my father with some business papers." + +"Your mother told everyone that you do not care for dancing," he said. + +"That is untrue, Walter. I love dancing." + +"I knew it was untrue, dearest," he said, standing before her. "But why +does Lady Heyburn go out of her way to throw cold water upon you and all +your works?" + +"How should I know?" asked the girl, with a slight shrug. "Perhaps it is +because my father places more confidence in me than in her." + +"And his confidence is surely not misplaced," he said. "I tell you +frankly that I don't like Lady Heyburn." + +"She pretends to like you." + +"Pretends!" he echoed. "Yes, it's all pretence. But," he added, "do tell +me the real reason of your absence last night, Gabrielle. It has worried +me." + +"Why worry, my dear Walter? Is it really worth troubling over? I'm only +a girl, and, as such, am allowed vagaries of nerves--and all that. I +simply didn't want to come, that's all." + +"Why?" + +"Well, to tell you the truth, I hate the crowd we have staying in our +house. They are all mother's friends; and mother's friends are never +mine, you know." + +He looked at her slim figure, so charming in its daintiness. "What a +dear little philosopher you've grown to be in a single year!" he +declared. "We shall have you quoting Friedrich Nietzsche next." + +"Well," she laughed, "if you would like me to quote him I can do so. I +read _Zarathustra_ secretly at school. One of the girls got a copy from +Germany. Do you remember what Zarathustra says: 'Verily, ye could wear +no better masks, ye present-day men, than your own faces,' Who could +recognise you?" + +"I hope that's not meant to be personal," he laughed, gazing at the +girl's beautiful countenance and great, luminous eyes. + +"You may take it as you like," she declared with a delightfully +mischievous smile. "I only quoted it to show you that I have read +Nietzsche, and recollect his many truths." + +"You certainly do seem to have a gay house-party at Glencardine," he +remarked, changing the subject. "I noticed Jimmy Flockart there as +usual." + +"Yes. He's one of mother's greatest friends. She makes good use of him +in every way. Up in town they are inseparable, it seems. They knew each +other, I believe, when they were boy and girl." + +"So I've heard," replied the young man thoughtfully, leaning against a +big glass case containing a collection of _lares_ and _penates_--images +of Jupiter, Hercules, Mercury, &c., used as household gods. "I expected +that he would be dancing attendance upon her during the whole of the +evening; but, curiously enough, soon after his arrival he suddenly +disappeared, and was not seen again until nearly two o'clock." Then, +looking straight in the girl's fathomless eye, he added, "Do you know, +Gabrielle, I don't like that fellow. Beware of him." + +"Neither do I. But your warning is quite unnecessary, I assure you. He +doesn't interest me in the least." + +Walter Murie was silent for a moment, silent as though in doubt. A +shadow crossed his well-cut features, but only for a single second. Then +he smiled again upon the fair-faced, soft-spoken girl whom he loved so +honestly and so well, the woman who was all in all to him. How could he +doubt her--she who only a year ago had, out yonder in the park, given +him her pledge of affection, and sealed it with her hot, passionate +kisses? Remembrance of those sweet caresses still lingered with him. But +he doubted her. Yes, he could not conceal from himself certain very ugly +facts--facts within his own knowledge. Yet was not his own poignant +jealousy misleading him? Was not her refusal to attend the ball perhaps +due to some sudden pique or unpleasantness with her giddy stepmother? +Was it? He only longed to be able to believe that it might be so. Alas! +however, he had discovered the shadow of a strange and disagreeable +truth. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +CONCERNS GABRIELLE'S SECRET + + +Along the cloister they went to the great hall, where Walter's mother +advanced to greet her. Full of regrets at the girl's inability to attend +the dance, she handed her the missing bracelet, saying, "It is such a +curious and unusual one, dear, that we wondered to whom it belonged. +Brown found it when she was sweeping my boudoir this morning. Take it +home to your mother, and suggest that she has a stronger clasp put on +it." + +The girl held the golden snake in her open hand. This was the first time +she had ever seen it. A fine example of old Italian workmanship, it was +made flexible, with its flat head covered with diamonds, and two bright +emeralds for the eyes. The mouth could be opened, and within was a small +cavity where a photo or any tiny object could be concealed. Where her +mother had picked it up she could not tell. But Lady Heyburn was always +purchasing quaint odds and ends, and, like most giddy women of her +class, was extraordinarily fond of fantastic jewellery and ornaments +such as other women did not possess. + +Several members of the house-party at Connachan entered and chatted, all +being full of the success of the previous night's entertainment. Lady +Murie's husband had, it appeared, left that morning for Edinburgh to +attend a political committee. + +A little later Walter succeeded in getting Gabrielle alone again in a +small, well-furnished room leading off the library--a room in which she +had passed many happy hours with him before he had gone abroad. He had +been in London reading for the Bar, but had spent a good deal of his +time up in Perthshire, or at least all he possibly could. At such times +they were inseparable; but after he had been "called"--there being no +necessity for him to practise, he being heir to the estates--he had gone +to India and Japan "to broaden his mind," as his father had explained. + +"I wonder, Gabrielle," he said hesitatingly, holding her hand as they +stood at the open window--"I wonder if you will forgive me if I put a +question to you. I--I know I ought not to ask it," he stammered; "but it +is only because I love you so well, dearest, that I ask you to tell me +the truth." + +"The truth!" echoed the girl, looking at him with some surprise, though +turning just a trifle paler, he thought. "The truth about what?" + +"About that man James Flockart," was his low, distinct reply. + +"About him! Why, my dear Walter," she laughed, "whatever do you want to +know about him? You know all that I know. We were agreed long ago that +he is not a gentleman, weren't we?" + +"Yes," he said. "Don't you recollect our talk at your house in London +two years ago, soon after you came back from school? Do you remember +what you then told me?" + +She flushed slightly at the recollection. "I--I ought not to have said +that," she exclaimed hurriedly. "I was only a girl then, and I--well, I +didn't know." + +"What you said has never passed my lips, dearest. Only, I ask you again +to-day to tell me honestly and frankly whether your opinion of him has +in any way changed. I mean whether you still believe what you then +said." + +She was silent for a few moments. Her lips twitched nervously, and her +eyes stared blankly out of the window. "No, I repeat what--I--said +--then," she answered in a strange hoarse voice. + +"And only you yourself suspect the truth?" + +"You are the only person to whom I have mentioned it, and I have been +filled with regret ever since. I had no right to make the allegation, +Walter. I should have kept my secret to myself." + +"There was surely no harm in telling me, dearest," he exclaimed, still +holding her hand, and looking fixedly into those clear-blue, fathomless +eyes so very dear to him. "You know too well that I would never betray +you." + +"But if he knew--if that man ever knew," she cried, "he would avenge +himself upon me! I know he would." + +"But what have you to fear, little one?" he asked, surprised at the +sudden change in her. + +"You know how my mother hates me, how they all detest me--all except +dear old dad, who is so terribly helpless, misled, defrauded, and +tricked--as he daily is--by those about him." + +"I know, darling," said the young man. "I know it all only too well. +Trust in me;" and, bending, he kissed her softly upon the lips. + +What was the real, the actual truth, he wondered. Was she still his, as +she had ever been, or was she playing him false? + +Little did the girl dream of the extent of her lover's knowledge of +certain facts which she was hiding from the world, vainly believing them +to be her own secret. Little did she dream how very near she was to +disaster. + +Walter Murie had, after a frivolous youth, developed at the age of +six-and-twenty into as sound, honest, and upright a young man as could +be found beyond the Border. As full of high spirits as of high +principles, he was in every way worthy the name of the gallant family +whose name he bore, a Murie of Connachan, both for physical strength and +scrupulous honesty; while his affection for Gabrielle Heyburn was that +deep, all-absorbing devotion which makes men sacrifice themselves for +the women they love. He was not very demonstrative. He never wore his +heart upon his sleeve, but deep within him was that true affection which +caused him to worship her as his idol. To him she was peerless among +women, and her beauty was unequalled. Her piquant mischievousness amused +him. As a girl, she had always been fond of tantalising him, and did so +now. Yet he knew her fine character; how deeply devoted she was to her +afflicted father, and how full of discomfort was her dull life, now that +she had exchanged her school for the same roof which covered Sir Henry's +second wife. Indeed, this latter event was the common talk of all who +knew the family. They sighed and pitied poor Sir Henry. It was all very +sad, they said; but there their sympathy ended. During Walter's absence +abroad something had occurred. What that something was he had not yet +determined. Gabrielle was not exactly the same towards him as she used +to be. His keen sensitiveness told him this instinctively, and, indeed, +he had made a discovery that, though he did not admit it now, had +staggered him. + +He stood there at the open window chatting with her, but what he said he +had no idea. His one thought--the one question which now possessed +him--was whether she still loved him, or whether the discovery he had +made was the actual and painful truth. Tall and good-looking, +clean-shaven, and essentially easy-going, he stood before her with his +dark eyes fixed upon her--eyes full of devotion, for was she not his +idol? + +She was telling him of a garden-party which her mother had arranged for +the following Thursday, and pressing him to attend it. + +"I'm afraid I may have to be in London that day, dearest," he responded. +"But if I may I'll come over to-morrow and play tennis. Will you be at +home in the afternoon?" + +"No," she declared promptly, with a mischievous laugh, "I shan't. I +shall be in the glen by the first bridge at four o'clock, and shall wait +for you there." + +"Very well, I'll be there," he laughed. "But why should we meet in +secret like this, when everybody knows of our engagement?" + +"Well, because I have a reason," she replied in a strained voice--"a +strong reason." + +"You've grown suddenly shy, afraid of chaff, it seems." + +"My mother is, I fear, not altogether well disposed towards you, +Walter," was her quick response. "Dad is very fond of you, as you well +know; but Lady Heyburn has other views for me, I think." + +"And is that the only reason you wish to meet me in secret?" he asked. + +She hesitated, became slightly confused, and quickly turned the +conversation into a different channel, a fact which caused him increased +doubt and reflection. + +Yes, something certainly had occurred. That was vividly apparent. A gulf +lay between them. + +Again he looked straight into her beautiful face, and fell to wondering. +What could it all mean? So true had she been to him, so sweet her +temperament, so high all her ideals, that he could not bring himself to +believe ill of her. He tried to fight down those increasing doubts. He +tried to put aside the naked truth which had arisen before him since his +return to England. He loved her. Yes, he loved her, and would think no +ill of her until he had proof, actual and indisputable. + +As far as the eligibility of Walter Murie was concerned there was no +question. Even Lady Heyburn could not deny it when she discussed the +matter over the tea-cups with her intimate friends. + +The family of the Muries of Connachan claimed a respectable antiquity. +The original surname of the family was De Balinhard, assumed from an +estate of that name in the county of Forfar. Sir Jocelynus de +Baldendard, or Balinhard, who witnessed several charters between 1204 +and 1225, is the first recorded of the name, but there is no documentary +proof of descent before that time; and, indeed, most of the family +papers having been burned in 1452, little remains of the early history +beyond the names and succession of the possessors of Balinhard from +about 1250 till 1350, which are stated in a charter of David II. now +preserved in the British Museum. This charter records the grant made by +William de Maule to John de Balinhard, _filio et heredi quondam Joannis +filii Christini filii Joannis de Balinhard_, of the lands of Murie, in +the county of Perthshire, and from that period, about 1350, the family +has borne the name of De Murie instead of De Balinhard. In 1409 Duthac +de Murie obtained a charter of the Castle of Connachan, possession of +which has been held by the family uninterruptedly ever since, except for +about thirty years, when the lands were under forfeiture on account of +the Rebellion of 1715. + +Near Crieff Junction station the lands of Glencardine and Connachan +march together; therefore both Sir Henry Heyburn and his friend, Sir +George Murie, had looked upon an alliance between the two houses as +quite within the bounds of probability. + +If the truth were told, Gabrielle had never looked upon any other man +save Walter with the slightest thought of affection. She loved him with +the whole strength of her being. During that twelve long months of +absence he had been daily in her thoughts, and his constant letters she +had read and re-read dozens of times. She had, since she left school, +met many eligible young men at houses to which her mother had grudgingly +taken her--young men who had been nice to her, flattered her, and +flirted with her. But she had treated them all with coquettish disdain, +for in the world there was but one man who was her lover and her +hero--her old friend Walter Murie. + +At this moment, as they were together in that cosy, well-furnished room, +she became seized by a twinge of conscience. She knew quite well that +she was not treating him as she ought. She had not been at all +enthusiastic at his return, and she had inquired but little about his +wanderings. Indeed, she had treated him with a studied indifference, as +though his life concerned her but little. And yet if he only knew the +truth, she thought; if he could only see that that cool, unresponsive +attitude was forced upon her by circumstances; if he could only know how +quickly her heart throbbed when he was present, and how dull and lonely +all became when he was absent! + +She loved him. Ah, yes! as truly and devotedly as he loved her. But +between them there had fallen a dark, grim shadow--one which, at all +hazards and by every subterfuge, she must endeavour to hide. She loved +him, and could, therefore, never bear to hear his bitter reproaches or +to witness his grief. He worshipped her. Would that he did not, she +thought. She must hide her secret from him as she was hiding it from all +the world. + +He was speaking. She answered him calmly yet mechanically. He wondered +what strange thoughts were concealed beneath those clear, wide-open, +child-like eyes which he was trying in vain to fathom. What would he +have thought had he known the terrible truth: that she had calmly, and +after long reflection, resolved to court death--death by her own +hand--rather than face the exposure with which she had that previous +night been threatened. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +CONTAINS CURIOUS CONFIDENCES + + +A week had gone by. Stewart, the lean, thin-faced head-keeper, who spoke +with such a strong accent that guests from the South often failed to +understand him, and who never seemed to sleep, so vigilant was he over +the Glencardine shootings, had reported the purchase of a couple of new +pointers. + +Therefore, one morning Lady Heyburn and her constant cavalier, Flockart, +had walked across to the kennels close to the castle to inspect them. + +At the end of the big, old-fashioned stable-yard, with grey stone +outbuildings ranged down either side, and the ancient mounting-block a +conspicuous object, were ranged the modern iron kennels full of pointers +and spaniels. In that big, old, paved quadrangle, the cobbles of which +were nowadays stained by the oil of noisy motor-cars, many a Graham of +Glencardine had mounted to ride into Stirling or Edinburgh, or to drive +in his coach to far-off London. The stables were now empty, but the +garage adjoining, whence came the odour of petrol, contained the two +Glencardine cars, besides three others belonging to members of that +merry, irresponsible house-party. + +The inspection of the pointers was a mere excuse on her ladyship's part +to be alone with Flockart. + +She wished to speak with him, and with that object suggested that they +should take the by-road which, crossing one of the main roads through +the estate, led through a leafy wood away to a railway level-crossing +half a mile off. The road was unfrequented, and they were not likely to +meet any of the guests, for some were away fishing, others had motored +into Stirling, and at least three had walked down into Auchterarder to +take a telegram for their blind host. + +"Well, my dear Jimmy," asked the well-preserved, fair-haired woman in +short brown skirt and fresh white cotton blouse and sun-hat, "what have +you discovered?" + +"Very little," replied the easy-going man, who wore a suit of rough +heather-tweed and a round cloth fishing-hat. "My information is +unfortunately very meagre. You have watched carefully. Well, what have +you found out?" + +"That she's just as much in love with him as before--the little fool!" + +"And I suppose he's just as devoted to her as ever--eh?" + +"Of course. Since you've been away these last few days he's been over +here from Connachan, on one pretext or another, every day. Of course +I've been compelled to ask him to lunch, for I can't afford to quarrel +with his people, although I hate the whole lot of them. His mother gives +herself such airs, and his father is the most terrible old bore in the +whole country." + +"But the match would be an advantageous one--wouldn't it?" suggested the +man strolling at her side, and he stopped to light a cigarette which he +took from a golden case. + +"Advantageous! Of course it would! But we can't afford to allow it, my +dear Jimmy. Think what such an alliance would mean to us!" + +"To you, you mean." + +"To you also. An ugly revelation might result, remember. Therefore it +must not be allowed. While Walter was abroad all was pretty plain +sailing. Lots of the letters she wrote him I secured from the post-box, +read them, and afterwards burned them. But now he's back there is a +distinct peril. He's a cute young fellow, remember." + +Flockart smiled. "We must discover a means by which to part them," he +said slowly but decisively. "I quite agree with you that to allow the +matter to go any further would be to court disaster. We have a good many +enemies, you and I, Winnie--many who would only be too pleased and eager +to rake up that unfortunate episode. And I, for one, have no desire to +figure in a criminal dock." + +"Nor have I," she declared quickly. + +"But if I went there you would certainly accompany me," he said, looking +straight at her. + +"What!" she gasped in quick dismay. "You would tell the truth and--and +denounce me?" + +"I would not; but no doubt there are others who would," was his answer. + +For a few moments her arched brows were knit, and she remained silent. +Her reflections were uneasy ones. She and the man at her side, who for +years had been her confidant and friend, were both in imminent peril of +exposure. Their relations had always been purely platonic; therefore she +was not afraid of any allegation against her honour. What her enemies +had said were lies--all of them. Her fear lay in quite a different +direction. + +Her poor, blind, helpless husband was in ignorance of that terrible +chapter of her own life--a chapter which she had believed to be closed +for ever, and yet which was, by means of a chain of unexpected +circumstances, in imminent danger of being reopened. + +"Well," she inquired at last in a blank voice, "and who are those others +who, you believe, would be prepared to denounce me?" + +"Certain persons who envy you your position, and who, perhaps, think +that you do not treat poor old Sir Henry quite properly." + +"But I do treat him properly!" she declared vehemently. "If he prefers +the society of that chit of a girl of his to mine, how can I possibly +help it? Besides, people surely must know that, to me, the society of a +blind old man is not exactly conducive to gaiety. I would only like to +put those women who malign me into my place for a single year. Perhaps +they would become even more reckless of the _convenances_ than I am!" + +"My dear Winnie," he said, "what's the use of discussing such an old and +threadbare theme? Things are not always what they seem, as the man with +a squint said when he thought he saw two sovereigns where there was but +one. The point before us is the girl's future." + +"It lies in your hands," was her sharp reply. + +"No; in yours. I have promised to look after Walter Murie." + +"But how can I act?" she asked. "The little hussy cares nothing for +me--only sees me at table, and spends the whole of her day with her +father." + +"Act as I suggested last week," was his rejoinder. "If you did that the +old man would turn her out of the place, and the rest would be easy +enough." + +"But----" + +"Ah!" he laughed derisively, "I see you've some sympathy with the girl +after all. Very well, take the consequences. It is she who will be your +deadliest enemy, remember; she who, if the disaster falls, will give +evidence against you. Therefore, you'd best act now, ere it's too late. +Unless, of course, you are in fear of her." + +"I don't fear her!" cried the woman, her eyes flashing defiance. "Why do +you taunt me like this? You haven't told me yet what took place on the +night of the ball." + +"Nothing. The mystery is just as complete as ever." + +"She defied you--eh?" + +Her companion nodded. + +"Then how do you now intend to act?" + +"That's just the question I was about to put to you," he said. "There is +a distinct peril--one which becomes graver every moment that the girl +and young Murie are together. How are we to avert it?" + +"By parting them." + +"Then act as I suggested the other day. It's the only way, Winnie, +depend upon it--the only way to secure our own safety." + +"And what would the world say of me, her stepmother, if it were known +that I had done such a thing?" + +"You've never yet cared for what the world said. Why should you care +now? Besides, it never will be known. I should be the only person in the +secret, and for my own sake it isn't likely that I'd give you away. Is +it? You've trusted me before," he added; "why not again?" + +"It would break my husband's heart," she declared in a low, intense +voice. "Remember, he is devoted to her. He would never recover from the +shock." + +"And yet the other night after the ball you said you were prepared to +carry out the suggestion, in order to save yourself," he remarked with a +covert sneer. + +"Perhaps I was piqued that she should defy my suggestion that she should +go to the ball." + +"No, you were not. You never intended her to go. That you know." + +When he spoke to her this man never minced matters. The woman was held +by him in a strange thraldom which surprised many people; yet to all it +was a mystery. The world knew nothing of the fact that James Flockart +was without a penny, and that he lived--and lived well, too--upon the +charity of Lady Heyburn. Two thousand pounds were placed, in secret, +every year to his credit from her ladyship's private account at +Coutts's, besides which he received odd cheques from her whenever his +needs required. To his friends he posed as an easy-going man-about-town, +in possession of an income not large, but sufficient to supply him with +both comforts and luxuries. He usually spent the London season in his +cosy chambers in Half-Moon Street; the winter at Monte Carlo or at +Cairo; the summer at Aix, Vichy, or Marienbad; and the autumn in a +series of visits to houses in Scotland. + +He was not exactly a ladies' man. Courtly, refined, and a splendid +linguist, as he was, the girls always voted him great fun; but from the +elder ones, and from married women especially, he somehow held himself +aloof. His one woman-friend, as everybody knew, was the flighty, +go-ahead Lady Heyburn. + +Of the country-house party he was usually the life and soul. No man +could invent so many practical jokes or carry them on with such +refinement of humour as he. Therefore, if the hostess wished to impart +merriment among her guests, she sought out and sent a pressing +invitation to "Jimmy" Flockart. A first-class shot, an excellent +tennis-player, a good golfer, and quite a good hand at putting a stone +in curling, he was an all-round sportsman who was sure to be highly +popular with his fellow-guests. Hence up in the north his advent was +always welcomed with loud approbation. + +To those who knew him, and knew him well, this confidential conversation +with the woman whose platonic friendship he had enjoyed through so many +years would certainly have caused greatest surprise. That he was a +schemer was entirely undreamed of. That he was attracted by "Winnie +Heyburn" was declared to be only natural, in view of the age and +affliction of her own husband. Cases such as hers are often regarded +with a very lenient eye. + +They had reached the level-crossing where, beside the line of the +Caledonian Railway, stands the mail-apparatus by which the down-mail for +Euston picks up the local bag without stopping, while the up-mail drops +its letters and parcels into the big, strong net. For a few moments they +halted to watch the dining-car express for Euston pass with a roar and a +crash as she dashed down the incline towards Crieff Junction. + +Then, as they turned again towards the house, he suddenly exclaimed, +"Look here, Winnie. We've got to face the music now. Every day increases +our peril. If you are actually afraid to act as I suggest, then tell me +frankly and I'll know what to do. I tell you quite openly that I have +neither desire nor intention to be put into a hole by this confounded +girl. She has defied me; therefore she must take the consequences." + +"How do you know that your action the other night has not aroused her +suspicions?" + +"Ah! there you are quite right. It may have done so. If it has, then our +peril has very considerably increased. That's just my argument." + +"But we'll have Walter to reckon with in any case. He loves her." + +"Bah! Leave the boy to me. I'll soon show him that the girl's not worth +a second thought," replied Flockart with nonchalant air. "All you have +to do is to act as I suggested the other night. Then leave the rest to +me." + +"And suppose it were discovered?" asked the woman, whose face had grown +considerably paler. + +"Well, suppose the worst happened, and it were discovered?" he asked, +raising his brows slightly. "Should we be any worse off than would be +the case if this girl took it into her head to expose us--if the facts +which she could prove placed us side by side in an assize-court?" + +The woman--clever, scheming, ambitious--was silent. The question +admitted of no reply. She recognised her own peril. The picture of +herself arraigned before a judge, with that man beside her, rose before +her imagination, and she became terrified. That slim, pale-faced girl, +her husband's child, stood between her and her own honour, her own +safety. Once the girl was removed, she would have no further fear, no +apprehension, no hideous forebodings concerning the imminent future. She +saw it all as she walked along that moss-grown forest-road, her eyes +fixed straight before her. The tempter at her side had urged her to +commit a dastardly, an unpardonable crime. In that man's hands she was, +alas! as wax. He poured into her ear a vivid picture of what must +inevitably result should Gabrielle reveal the ugly truth, at the same +time calmly watching the effect of his words upon her. Upon her decision +depended his whole future as well as hers. What was Gabrielle's life to +hers, asked the man point-blank. That was the question which decided +her--decided her, after long and futile resistance, to promise to commit +the act which he had suggested. She gave the man her hand in pledge. + +Then a slight smile of triumph played about his cruel nether lip, and +the pair retraced their steps towards the castle in silence. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +CASTING THE BAIT + + +Loving and perishing: these have tallied from eternity. Love and death +walk hand-in-hand. The will to love means also to be ready for death. + +Gabrielle Heyburn recognised this truth. She had the will to love, and +she had the resolve to perish--perish by her own hand--rather than allow +her secret to be exposed. Those who knew her--a young, athletic, +merry-faced, open-air girl on the verge of budding womanhood, so +true-hearted, frank, and free--little dreamed of the terrible nature of +that secret within her young heart. + +She held aloof from her lover as much as she dared. True, Walter came to +Glencardine nearly every day, but she managed to avoid him whenever +possible. Why? Because she knew her own weakness; she feared being +compelled by his stronger nature, and by the true affection in which she +held him, to confess. They walked together in the cool, shady glen +beside the rippling burn, climbed the neighbouring hills, played tennis, +or else she lay in the hammock at the edge of the lawn while he lounged +at her side smoking cigarettes. She did all this because she was +compelled. + +Her most enjoyable hours were the quiet ones spent at her father's side. +Alone in the library, she read to him, in French, those curious business +documents which came so often by registered post. They were so strangely +worded that, not knowing their true import, she failed to understand +them. All were neatly typed, without any heading to the paper. Sometimes +a printed address in the Boulevard des Capucines, Paris, would appear on +letters accompanying the enclosures. But all were very formal, and to +Gabrielle extremely puzzling. + +Sir Henry always took the greatest precaution that no one should obtain +sight of these confidential reports or overhear them read by his +daughter. Before she sat down to read, she always shot the small brass +bolt on the door to prevent Hill or any other intruder from entering. +More than once the Baronet's wife had wanted to come in while the +reading was in progress, whereupon Sir Henry always excused himself, +saying that he locked his door against his guests when he wished to be +alone, an explanation which her ladyship accepted. + +These strangely worded reports in French always puzzled the Baronet's +daughter. Sometimes she became seized by a vague suspicion that her +father was carrying on some business which was not altogether +honourable. Why should he enjoin such secrecy? Why should he cause her +to write and despatch with her own hand such curiously worded telegrams, +addressed always to the registered address: "METEFOROS, PARIS"? + +Those neatly typed pages which she read could be always construed in two +or three senses. But only her father knew the actual meaning which the +writer intended to convey. For hours she would often be engaged in +reading them. Sometimes, too, telegrams in cipher arrived, and she would +then obtain the little, dark-blue covered book from the safe, and by its +aid decipher the messages from the French capital. + +Questions, curious questions, were frequently asked by the anonymous +sender of the reports; and to these her father replied by means of his +private code. She had become during the past year quite an expert +typist, and therefore to her the Baronet entrusted the replies, always +impressing upon her the need of absolute secrecy, even from her mother. + +"My affairs," he often declared, "concern nobody but myself. I trust in +you, Gabrielle dear, to guard my secrets from prying eyes. I know that +you yourself must often be puzzled, but that is only natural." + +Unfamiliar as the girl was with business in any form, she had during the +past year arrived at the conclusion, after much debate within herself, +that this source of her father's income was a distinctly mysterious one. +The estates were, of course, large, and he employed agents to manage +them; but they could not produce that huge income which she knew he +possessed, for had she not more than once seen the amount of his balance +at his banker's as well as the large sum he had on deposit? The source +of his colossal wealth was a mystery, but was no doubt connected with +his curious and constant communications with Paris. + +At rare intervals a grey-faced, grey-bearded, and rather stout +Frenchman--a certain Monsieur Goslin--called, and on such occasions was +closeted for a long time alone with Sir Henry, evidently discussing some +important affair in secret. To her ladyship, as well as to Gabrielle, +the Frenchman was most courteous, but refused the pressing invitations +to remain the night. He always arrived by the morning train from Perth, +and left for the south the same night, the express being stopped for him +by signal at Auchterarder station. The mysterious visitor puzzled +Gabrielle considerably. Her father entrusted him with secrets which he +withheld from her, and this often caused her both surprise and +annoyance. Like every other girl, she was of course full of curiosity. + +Towards her Flockart became daily more friendly. On two occasions, after +breakfast, he had invited her to spend an hour or two fishing for trout +in the burn, which was unexpectedly in spate, and they had thus been +some time in each other's company. + +She, however, regarded him with distinct distrust. He was undeniably +good-looking, nonchalant, and a thorough-going man of the world. But his +intimate friendship with Lady Heyburn prevented her from regarding him +as a true friend. Towards her he was ever most courteous, and paid her +many little compliments. He tied her flies, he fitted her rod, and if +her line became entangled in the trees he always put matters right. Not, +however, that she could not do it all herself. In her strong, high +fishing-boots, her short skirts hemmed with leather, her burberry, and +her dark-blue tam-o'-shanter set jauntily on her chestnut hair, she very +often fished alone, and made quite respectable baskets. To wade into the +burn and disentangle her line from beneath a stone was to her quite a +small occurrence, for she would never let either Stewart or any of the +under-keepers accompany her. + +Why Flockart had so suddenly sought her society she failed to discern. +Hitherto, though always extremely polite, he had treated her as a child, +which she naturally resented. At length, however, he seemed to have +realised that she now possessed the average intelligence of a young +woman. + +He had never repeated those strange words he had uttered when, on the +night of the ball at Connachan, he returned in secret to the castle and +beckoned her out upon the lawn. He had, indeed, never referred to his +curious action. Sometimes she wondered, so changed was his manner, +whether he had actually forgotten the incident altogether. He had showed +himself in his true colours that night. Whatever suspicions she had +previously held were corroborated in that stroll across the lawn in the +dark shadow. His tactics had altered, it seemed, and their objective +puzzled her. + +"It must be very dull for you here, Miss Heyburn," he remarked to her +one bright morning as they were casting up-stream near one another. They +were standing not far from a rustic bridge in a deep, leafy glen, where +the sunshine penetrated here and there through the canopy of leaves, +beneath which the burn pursued its sinuous course towards the Earn. The +music of the rippling waters over the brown, moss-grown boulders mingled +with the rustle of the leaves above, as now and then the soft wind swept +up the narrow valley. They were treading a carpet of wild-flowers, and +the air was full of the delicious perfume of the summer day. "You must +be very dull, living here so much, and going up to town so very seldom," +he said. + +"Oh dear no!" she laughed. "You are quite mistaken. I really enjoy a +country life. It's so jolly after the confinement and rigorous rules of +school. One is free up here. I can wear my old clothes, and go cycling, +fishing, shooting, curling; in fact, I'm my own mistress. That I +shouldn't be if I lived in London, and had to make calls, walk in the +Park, go shopping, sit out concerts, and all that sort of thing." + +"But though you're out, you never go anywhere. Surely that's unusual for +one so active and--well"--he hesitated--"I wonder whether I might be +permitted to say so--so good-looking as you are, Gabrielle." + +"Ah!" replied the girl, protesting, but blushing at the same time, +"you're poking fun at me, Mr. Flockart. All I can reply is, first, that +I'm not good-looking; and, secondly, I'm not in the least dull--perhaps +I should be if I hadn't my father's affairs to attend to." + +"They seem to take up a lot of your time," he said with pretended +indifference, but, to his annoyance, landed a salmon parr at the same +moment. + +"We work together most evenings," was her reply. + +The question which he then put as he threw the parr back into the burn +struck her as curious. It was evident that he was endeavouring to learn +from her the nature of her father's correspondence. But she was shrewd +enough to parry all his ingenious cross-questioning. Her father's +secrets were her own. + +"Some ill-natured people gossip about Sir Henry," he remarked presently, +as he made another long cast up-stream and allowed the flies to be +carried down to within a few yards from where he stood. "They say that +his source of income is mysterious, and that it is not altogether open +and above-board." + +"What!" she exclaimed, looking at him quickly. "And who, pray, Mr. +Flockart, makes this allegation against my father?" + +"Oh, I really don't know who started the gossip. The source of such +tales is always difficult to discover. Some enemy, no doubt. Every man +in this world of ours has enemies." + +"What do you mean by the source of dad's income not being an honourable +one?" + +The man shrugged his shoulders. "I really don't know," he declared. "I +only repeat what I've heard once or twice up in London." + +"Tell me exactly what they say," demanded the girl, with quick interest. + +Her companion hesitated for a few seconds. "Well, whatever has been +said, I've always denied; for, as you know, I am a friend of both Lady +Heyburn and of your father." + +The girl's nostrils dilated slightly. Friend! Why, was not this man her +father's false friend? Was he not behind every sinister action of Lady +Heyburn's, and had not she herself, with her own ears, one day at Park +Street, four years ago, overheard her ladyship express a dastardly +desire in the words, "Oh, Henry is such a dreadful old bore, and so +utterly useless, that it's a shame a woman like myself should be tied up +to him. Fortunately for me, he already has one foot in the grave. +Otherwise I couldn't tolerate this life at all!" Those cruel words of +her stepmother's, spoken to this man who was at that moment her +companion, recurred to her. She recollected, too, Flockart's reply. + +This hollow pretence of friendship angered her. She knew that the man +was her father's enemy, and that he had united with the clever, scheming +woman in some ingenious conspiracy against the poor, helpless man. + +Therefore she turned, and, facing him boldly, said, "I wish, Mr. +Flockart, that you would please understand that I have no intention to +discuss my father or his affairs. The latter concern himself alone. He +does not even speak of them to his wife; therefore why should strangers +evince any interest in them?" + +"Because there are rumours--rumours of a mystery; and mysteries are +always interesting and attractive," was his answer. + +"True," she said meaningly. "Just as rumours concerning certain of my +father's guests possess an unusual interest for him, Mr. Flockart. +Though my father may be blind, his hearing is still excellent. And he is +aware of much more than you think." + +The man glanced at her for an instant, and his face darkened. The girl's +ominous words filled him with vague apprehension. Was it possible that +the blind man had any suspicion of what was intended? He held his +breath, and made another vicious cast far up the rippling stream. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +REVEALS A MYSTERIOUS BUSINESS + + +In the few days which followed, Lady Heyburn's attitude towards +Gabrielle became one of marked affection. She even kissed her in the +breakfast-room each morning, called her "dear," and consulted her upon +the day's arrangements. + +Poor Sir Henry was but a cipher in the household. He usually took all +his meals alone, except dinner, and was very seldom seen, save perhaps +when he would come out for an hour or so to walk in the park, led by his +daughter, or else, alone, tapping before him with his stout stick. On +such occasions he would wear a pair of big blue spectacles to hide the +unsightliness of his gray, filmy eyes. Sometimes he would sit on one of +the garden seats on the south side of the house, enjoying the sunshine, +and listening to the songs of the birds, the hum of the insects, and the +soft ripples of the burn far below. And on such occasions one of his +wife's guests would join him to chat and cheer him, for everyone felt +pity for the lonely man living his life of darkness. + +No one was more full of words of sympathy than James Flockart. Gabrielle +longed to warn her father of that man, but dared not do so. There was a +reason--a strong reason--for her silence. Sir Henry had declared that he +was interested in the man's intellectual conversation, and that he +rather liked him, though he had never looked upon his face. In some +things the old gentleman was ever ready to adopt his daughter's advice +and rely upon her judgment; but in others he was quite obstinate and +treated her pointed remarks with calm indifference. + +One day, at Lady Heyburn's suggestion, Gabrielle, accompanied by +Flockart and another of the guests, a retired colonel, had driven over +in the big car to Perth to make a call; and on their return she spent +some hours in the library with her father, attending to his +correspondence. + +That morning a big packet of those typed reports in French had arrived +in the usual registered, orange-coloured envelope, and after she had +read them over to the Baronet, he had given her the key, and she had got +out the code-book. Then, at his instructions, she had written upon a +yellow telegraph-form a cipher message addressed to the mysterious +"Meteforos, Paris." It read, when decoded:-- + +"Arrange with amethyst. I agree the price of pearls. Have no fear of +Smithson, but watch Peters. If London refuses, then Mayfair. Expect +report of Bedford." + +It was not signed by the Baronet's name, but by the signature he always +used on such telegraphic replies: "Senrab." + +From such a despatch she could gather nothing. At his request she took +away the little blue-covered book and relocked it in the safe. Then she +rang for Hill, and told him to send the despatch by messenger down to +Auchterarder village. + +"Very well, miss," replied the man, bowing. + +"The car is going down to take Mr. Seymour to the station in about a +quarter of an hour, so Stokes will take it." + +"And look here," exclaimed the blind man, who was standing before the +window with his back to the crimson sunset, "you can tell her ladyship, +Hill, that I'm very busy, and I shan't come in to dinner to-night. Just +serve a snack here for me, will you?" + +"Very well, Sir Henry," responded the smart footman; and, bowing again, +he closed the door. + +"May I dine with you, dad?" asked the girl. "There are two or three +people invited to-night, and they don't interest me in the least." + +"My dear child, what do you mean? Why, aren't Walter Murie and his +mother dining here to-night? I know your mother invited them ten days +ago." + +"Oh, why, yes," replied the girl rather lamely; "I did not recollect. +Then, I suppose, I must put in an appearance," she sighed. + +"Suppose!" he echoed. "What would Walter think if you elected to dine +with me instead of meeting him at table?" + +"Now, dad, it is really unkind of you!" she said reprovingly. "Walter +and I thoroughly understand each other. He's not surprised at anything I +do." + +"Ah!" laughed the sightless man, "he's already beginning to understand +the feminine perverseness, eh? Well, my child, dine here with me if you +wish, by all means. Tell Hill to lay the table for two. We have lots of +work to do afterwards." + +So the bell was rung again and Hill was informed that Miss Gabrielle +would dine with her father in the library. + +Then they turned again to the Baronet's mysterious private affairs; and +when she had seated herself at the typewriter and re-read the +reports--confidential reports they were, but framed in a manner which +only the old man himself could understand--he dictated to her cryptic +replies, the true nature of which were to her a mystery. + +The last of the reports, brief and unsigned, read as follows:-- + +"Mon petit garçon est très gravement malade, et je supplie Dieu à genoux +de ne pas me punir si severement, de ne pas me prendre mon enfant. + +"D'apres le dernier bulletin du Professeur Knieberger, il a la fièvre +scarlatine, et l'issue de la maladie est incertaine. Je ne quitte plus +son chevet. Et sans cesse je me dis, 'C'est une punition du Ciel.'" + +Gabrielle saw that, to the outside world, it was a statement by a +frantic mother that her child had caught scarlet-fever. "What could it +really mean?" she wondered. + +Slowly she read it, and as she did so noticed the curious effect it had +upon her father, seated as he was in the deep saddle-bag chair. His face +grew very grave, his thin white hands clenched themselves, and there was +an unusually bitter expression about his mouth. + +"Eh?" he asked, as though not quite certain of the words. "Read it +again, child, slower. I--I have to think." + +She obeyed, wondering if the key to the cryptic message were contained +in some conjunction of letters or words. It seemed as though, in +imagination, he was setting it down before him as she pronounced the +words. This was often so. At times he would have reports repeated to him +over and over again. + +"Ah!" he gasped at last, drawing a long breath, his hands still tightly +clenched, his countenance haggard and drawn. "I--I expected that. And so +it has come--at last!" + +"What, dad?" asked the girl in surprise, staring at the crisp +typewritten sheet before her. + +"Oh, well, nothing child--nothing," he answered, bestirring himself. + +"But the lady whoever she is, seems terribly concerned about her little +boy. The judgment of Heaven, she calls it." + +"And well she may, Gabrielle," he answered in a hoarse strained voice. +"Well she may, my dear. It is a punishment sent upon the wicked." + +"Is the mother wicked, then?" asked the girl in curiosity. + +"No, dear," he urged. "Don't try to understand, for you can never do +that. These reports convey to me alone the truth. They are intended to +mislead you, as they mislead other people." + +"Then there is no little boy suffering from scarlet-fever?" + +"Yes. Because it is written there," was his smiling reply. "But it only +refers to an imaginary child, and, by so doing, places a surprising and +alarming truth before me." + +"Is the matter so very serious, dad?" she asked, noticing the curious +effect the words had had upon him. + +"Serious!" he echoed, leaning forward in his chair. "Yes," he answered +in a low voice, "it is very serious, child, both to me and to you." + +"I don't understand you, dad," she exclaimed, walking to his chair +throwing herself upon her knees, and placing her arms around his neck. +"Won't you be more explicit? Won't you tell me the truth? Surely you can +rely upon my secrecy?" + +"Yes, child," he said, groping until his hand fell upon her hair, and +then stroking it tenderly; "I trust you. You keep my affairs from those +people who seek to obtain knowledge of them. Without you, I would be +compelled to employ a secretary; but he could be bought, without a +doubt. Most secretaries can." + +"Ford was very trustworthy, was he not?" + +"Yes, poor Ford," he sighed. "When he died I lost my right hand. But +fortunately you were old enough to take his place." + +"But in a case like this, when you are worried and excited, as you are +at this moment, why not confide in me and allow me to help you?" she +suggested. "You see that, although I act as your secretary, dad, I know +nothing of the nature of your business." + +"And forgive me for speaking very plainly, child, I do not intend that +you should," the old man said. + +"Because you cannot trust me!" she pouted. "You think that because I'm a +woman I cannot keep a secret." + +"Not at all," he said. "I place every confidence in you, dear. You are +the only real friend left to me in the whole world. I know that you +would never willingly betray me to my enemies; but----" + +"Well, but what?" + +"But you might do so unknowingly. You might by one single chance-word +place me within the power of those who seek my downfall." + +"Who seeks your downfall, dad?" she asked very seriously. + +"That's a matter which I desire to keep to myself. Unfortunately, I do +not know the identity of my enemies; hence I am compelled to keep from +you certain matters which, in other circumstances, you might know. But," +he added, "this is not the first time we've discussed this question, +Gabrielle dear. You are my daughter, and I trust you. Do not, child, +misjudge me by suspecting that I doubt your loyalty." + +"I don't, dad; only sometimes I----" + +"Sometimes you think," he said, still stroking her hair--"you think that +I ought to tell you the reason I receive all these reports from Paris, +and their real significance. Well, to tell the truth, dear, it is best +that you should not know. If you reflect for a moment," went on the old +man, tears welling slowly in his filmy, sightless eyes, "you will +realise my unhappy situation--how I am compelled to hide my affairs even +from Lady Heyburn herself. Does she ever question you regarding them?" + +"She used to at one time; but she refrains nowadays, for I would tell +her nothing." + +"Has anyone else ever tried to glean information from you?" he inquired, +after a long breath. + +"Mr. Flockart has done so on several occasions of late. But I pleaded +absolute ignorance." + +"Oh, Flockart has been asking you, has he?" remarked her father with +surprise. "Well, I suppose it is only natural. A blind man's doings are +always more or less a mystery to the world." + +"I don't like Mr. Flockart, dad," she said. + +"So you've remarked before, my dear," her father replied. "Of course you +are right in withholding any information upon a subject which is my own +affair; yet, on the other hand, you should always remember that he is +your mother's very good friend--and yours also." + +"Mine!" gasped the girl, starting up. Would that she were free to tell +the poor, blind, helpless man the ghastly truth! "My friend, dad! What +makes you think that?" + +"Because he is always singing your praises, both to me and your mother." + +"Then I tell you that his expressions of opinion are false, dear dad." + +"How?" + +She was silent. She dared not tell her father the reason; therefore, in +order to turn the subject, she replied, with a forced laugh, "Oh, well, +of course, I may be mistaken; but that's my opinion." + +"A mere prejudice, child; I'm sure it is. As far as I know, Flockart is +quite an excellent fellow, and is most kind both to your mother and to +myself." + +Gabrielle's brow contracted. Disengaging herself, she rose to her feet, +and, after a pause, asked, "What reply shall I send to the report, dad?" + +"Ah, that report!" gasped the man, huddled up in his chair in serious +reflection. "That report!" he repeated, rising to straighten himself. +"Reply in these words: 'No effort is to be made to save the child's +life. On the contrary, it is to be so neglected as to produce a fatal +termination.'" + +The girl had seated herself at the typewriter and rapidly clicked out +the words in French--words that seemed ominous enough, and yet the true +meaning of which she never dreamed. She was thinking only of her +father's misplaced friendship in James Flockart. If she dared to tell +him the naked truth! Oh, if her poor, blind, afflicted father could only +see! + + + + +CHAPTER X + +DECLARES A WOMAN'S LOVE + + +At nine o'clock that night Gabrielle left her father, and ascended to +her own pretty room, with its light chintz-covered furniture, its +well-filled bamboo bookcases, its little writing-table, and its narrow +bed in the alcove. It was a nest of rest and cosy comfort. + +Exchanging her tweed dress, she put on an easy dressing-gown of pale +blue cashmere, drew up an armchair, and, arranging her electric +reading-lamp, sat down to a new novel she intended to finish. + +Presently Elise came to her; but, looking up, she said she did not wish +to be disturbed, and again coiled herself up in the chair, endeavouring +to concentrate her thoughts upon her book. But all to no purpose. Ever +and anon she would lift her big eyes from the printed page, sigh, and +stare fixedly at the rose-coloured trellis pattern of the wall-paper +opposite. Upon her there had fallen a feeling of vague apprehension such +as she had never before experienced, a feeling that something was about +to happen. + +Lady Heyburn was, she knew, greatly annoyed that she had not made her +appearance at dinner or in the drawing-room afterwards. Generally, when +there were guests from the neighbourhood, she was compelled to sing one +or other of her Italian songs. Her refusal to come to dinner would, she +knew, cause her ladyship much chagrin, for it showed plainly to the +guests that her authority over her step-daughter was entirely at an end. + +Just as the stable-clock chimed half-past ten there came a light tap at +the door. It was Hill, who, on receiving permission to enter, said, "If +you please, miss, Mr. Murie has just asked me to give you this"; and he +handed her an envelope. + +Tearing it open eagerly, she found a visiting-card, upon which some +words were scribbled in pencil. For a moment after reading them she +paused. Then she said, "Tell Mr. Murie it will be all right." + +"Very well, miss," the man replied, and, bowing, closed the door. + +For a few moments she stood motionless in the centre of the room, her +lover's card still in her hand. Then she walked to the open window, and +looked out into the hot, oppressive night. The moon was hidden behind +dark clouds, and the stillness was precursory of the thunderstorm which +for the past hour or so had threatened. Across the room she paced slowly +several times, a deep, anxious expression upon her pale countenance; +then slowly she slipped off her gown and put on a dark stuff dress. + +Until the clock had struck eleven she waited. Then, assuming her +tam-o'-shanter and twisting a silk scarf about her neck, she crept along +the corridor and down the wide oak stairs. Lights were still burning; +but without detection she slipped out by the main door, and, crossing +the broad drive, took the winding path into the woods. + +The guests had all left, and the servants were closing the house for the +night. Scarce had she gone a hundred yards when a dark figure in +overcoat and a golf-cap loomed up before her, and she found Walter at +her side. + +"Why, dearest!" he exclaimed, taking her hand and bending till he +pressed it to his lips, "I began to fear you wouldn't come. Why haven't +I seen you to-night?" + +"Because--well, because I had a bad headache," was her lame reply. "I +knew that if I went in to dinner mother would want me to sing, and I +really didn't feel up to it. I hope, however, you haven't been bored too +much." + +"You know I have!" he said quickly in a low, earnest voice. "I came here +purposely to see you, and you were invisible. I've run the car down the +farm-road on the other side of the park, and left it there. The mater +went home in the carriage nearly an hour ago. She's afraid to go in the +car when I drive." + +Slowly they strolled together along the dark path, he with her arm held +tenderly under his own. + +"Think, darling," he said, "I haven't seen you for four whole days! Why +is it? Yesterday I went to the usual spot at the end of the glen, and +waited nearly two hours; but you did not come, although you promised me, +you know. Why are you so indifferent, dearest?" he asked in a plaintive +tone. "I can't really make you out of late." + +"I'm not indifferent at all, Walter," she declared. "My father has very +much to attend to just now, and I'm compelled to assist him, as you are +well aware. He's so utterly helpless." + +"Oh, but you might spare me just half-an-hour sometimes," he said in a +slight tone of reproach. + +"I do. Why, we surely see each other very often!" + +"Not often enough for me, Gabrielle," he declared, halting in the +darkness and raising her soft little hand to his eager lips. "You know +well enough how fondly I love you, how--" + +"I know," she said in a sad, blank tone. Her own heart beat fast at his +passionate words. + +"Then why do you treat me like this?" he asked. "Is it because I have +annoyed you, that you perhaps think I am not keeping faith with you? I +know I was absent a long time, but it was really not my own fault. My +people made me go round the world. I didn't want to, I assure you. I'd +far rather have been up here at Connachan all the time, and near you, my +own well-beloved." + +"I believe you would, Walter," she answered, turning towards him with +her hand upon his shoulder. "But I do wish you wouldn't reproach me for +my undemonstrativeness each time we meet. It saddens me." + +"I know I ought not to reproach you," he hastened to assure her. "I have +no right to do so; but somehow you have of late grown so sphinx-like +that you are not the Gabrielle I used to know." + +"Why not?" And she laughed, a strange, hollow laugh. "Explain yourself." + +"In the days gone by, before I went abroad, you were not so particular +about our meetings being clandestine. You did not care who saw us or +what people might say." + +"I was a girl then. I have now learnt wisdom, and the truth of the +modern religion which holds that the only sin is that of being found +out." + +"But why are you so secret in all your actions?" he demanded. "Whom do +you fear?" + +"Fear!" she echoed, starting and staring in his direction. "Why, I fear +nobody! What--what makes you think that?" + +"Because it has lately struck me that you meet me in secret +because--well, because you are afraid of someone, or do not wish us to +be seen." + +"Why, how very foolish!" she laughed. "Don't my father and mother both +know that we love each other? Besides, I am surely my own mistress. I +would never marry a man I don't love," she added in a tone of quiet +defiance. + +"And am I to take it that you really do love me, after all?" he inquired +very earnestly. + +"Why, of course," she replied without hesitation, again placing her arm +about his neck and kissing him. "How foolish of you to ask such a +question, Walter! When will you be convinced that the answer I gave you +long ago was the actual truth?" + +"Men who love as fervently as I do are apt to be somewhat foolish," he +declared. + +"Then don't be foolish any longer," she urged in a matter-of-fact voice, +lifting her lips to his and kissing him. "You know I love you, Walter; +therefore you should also know that it I avoid you in public I have some +good reason for doing so." + +"A reason!" he cried. "What reason? Tell me." + +She shook her head. "That is my own affair," she responded. "I repeat +again that my affection for you is undiminished, if such repetition +really pleases you, as it seems to do." + +"Of course it pleases me, dearest," he declared. "No words are sweeter +to my ears than the declaration of your love. My only regret is that, +now I am at home again, I do not see so much of you, sweetheart, as I +had anticipated." + +"Walter," she exclaimed in a slow, changed voice, after a brief silence, +"there is a reason. Please do not ask me to tell you--because--well, +because I can't." And, drawing a long breath, she added, "All I beg of +you is to remain patient and trust in me. I love you; and I love no +other man. Surely that should be, for you, all-sufficient. I am yours, +and yours only." + +In an instant he had folded her slight, dainty form in his arms. The +young man was satisfied, perfectly satisfied. + +They strolled on together through the wood, and out across the open +corn-fields. The moon had come forth again, the storm-clouds had passed, +and the night was perfect. Though she was trying against her will to +hold aloof from Walter Murie, yet she loved him with all her heart and +soul. Many letters she had addressed to him in his travels had remained +unanswered. This had, in a measure, piqued her. But she was in ignorance +that much of his correspondence and hers had fallen into the hands of +her ladyship and been destroyed. + +As they walked on, talking as lovers will, she was thinking deeply, and +full of regret that she dared not tell the truth to this man who, loving +her so fondly, would, she knew, be prepared to make any sacrifice for +her sake. Suppose he knew the truth! Whatever sacrifice he made would, +alas! not alter facts. If she confessed, he would only hate her. Ah, the +tragedy of it all! Therefore she held her silence; she dared not speak +lest she might lose his love. She had no friend in whom she could +confide. From her own father, even, she was compelled to hide the actual +facts. They were too terrible. What would he think if the bitter truth +were exposed? + +The man at her side, tall, brave, strong--a lover whom she knew many +girls coveted--believed that he was to marry her. But, she told herself +within her grief-stricken heart, such a thing could never be. A barrier +stood between them, invisible, yet nevertheless one that might for ever +debar their mutual happiness. + +An involuntary sigh escaped her, and he inquired the reason. She excused +herself by saying that it was owing to the exertion of walking over the +rough path. Therefore they halted, and, with the bright summer moonbeams +falling upon her beautiful countenance, he kissed her passionately upon +the lips again and yet again. + +They remained together for over an hour, moving along slowly, heedless +of where their footsteps led them; heedless, too, of being seen by any +of the keepers who, at night, usually patrolled the estate. Their walk, +however, lay at the farther end of the glen, in the coverts remote from +the house and nearer the high-road; therefore there was but little +danger of being observed. + +Many were the pledges of affection they exchanged before parting. On +Walter's part they were fervent and passionate, but on the part of his +idol they were, alas! only the pretence of a happiness which she feared +could never be permanent. + +Presently they retraced their steps to the edge of the wood beyond which +lay the house. They found the path, and there, at her request, he left +her. It was not wise that he should approach the house at that hour, she +urged. + +So, after a long and fervent leave-taking, he held her in a last +embrace, and then, raising his cap, and saying, "Good-night, my darling, +my own well-beloved!" he turned away and went at a swinging pace down +the farm-road where he had left his car with lights extinguished. + +She watched him disappear. Then, sighing, she turned into the dark, +winding path beneath the trees, the end of which came out upon the drive +close to the house. + +Half-way down, however, with sudden resolve, she took a narrower path to +the left, and was soon on the outskirts of the wood and out again in the +bright moonlight. + +The night was so glorious that she had resolved to stroll alone, to +think and devise some plan for the future. Before her, silhouetted high +against the steely sky, rose the two great, black, ivy-clad towers of +the ancient castle. The grim, crumbling walls stood dark and frowning +amid the fairy-like scene, while from far below came up the faint +rippling of the Ruthven Water. A great owl flapped lazily from the ivy +as she approached those historic old walls which in bygone days had held +within them some of Scotland's greatest men. She had explored and knew +every nook and cranny in those extensive ruins. With Walter's +assistance, she had once made a perilous ascent to the top of the +highest of the two square towers, and had often clambered along the +broken walls of the keep or descended into those strange little +subterranean chambers, now half-choked with earth and rubbish, which +tradition declared were the dungeons in which prisoners in the old days +had been put to the rack, seared with red-hot irons, or submitted to +other horrible tortures. + +Her feet falling noiselessly, she entered the grass-grown courtyard, +where stood the ancient spreading yew, the "dule-tree," under which the +Glencardine charters had been signed and justice administered. Other big +trees had sprung from seedlings since the place had fallen into ruin; +and, having entered, she paused amidst its weird, impressive silence. +Those high, ponderous walls about her spoke mutely of strength and +impregnability. Those grass-grown mounds hid ruined walls and broken +foundations. What tales of wild lawlessness and reckless bloodshed they +all could tell! + +Many of the strange stories she had heard concerning the old +place--stories told by the people in the neighbourhood--were recalled as +she stood there gazing wonderingly about her. Many romantic legends had, +indeed, been handed down in Perthshire from generation to generation +concerning old Glencardine and its lawless masters, and for her they had +always possessed a strange fascination, for had she not inherited the +antiquarian tastes of her father, and had she not read many works upon +folklore and such-like subjects. + +Suddenly, while standing in the deep shadow, gazing thoughtfully up at +those high towers which, though ruined, still guarded the end of the +glen, a strange thing occurred--something which startled her, causing +her to halt breathless, petrified, rooted to the spot. She stared +straight before her. Something uncanny was happening there, something +that was, indeed, beyond human credence, and quite inexplicable. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CONCERNS THE WHISPERS + + +What had startled Gabrielle was certainly extraordinary and decidedly +uncanny. She was standing near the southern wall, when, of a sudden, she +heard low but distinct whispers. Again she listened. Yes. The sounds +were not due to her excited imagination at the recollection of those +romantic traditions of love and hatred, or of those gruesome stories of +how the Wolf of Badenoch had been kept prisoner there for five years and +put to frightful tortures, or how the Laird of Weem was deliberately +poisoned in that old banqueting-hall, the huge open fireplace of which +still existed near where she stood. + +There was the distinct sound of low, whispered words! She held her +breath to listen. She tried to distinguish what the words were, but in +vain. Then she endeavoured to determine whence they emanated, but was +unable to do so. Again they sounded--again--and yet again. Then there +was another voice, still low, still whispering, but not quite so deep as +the first. It sounded like a woman's. + +Local tradition had it that the place held the ghosts of those who had +died in agony within its noisome dungeons; but she had always been far +too matter-of-fact to accept stories of the supernatural. Yet at that +moment her ears did not deceive her. That pile of grim, gaunt ruins was +a House of Whispers! + +Again she listened, never moving a muscle. An owl hooted weirdly in the +ivy far above her, while near, at her feet, a rabbit scuttled away +through the grass. Such noises she was used to. She knew every +night-sound of the country-side; for when she had finished her work in +the library she often went, unknown to the household, with Stewart upon +his nocturnal rounds, and walked miles through the woods in the night. +The grey-eyed, thin-nosed head-keeper was her particular favourite. He +knew so much of natural history, and he taught her all he knew. She +could distinguish the cries of birds in the night, and could tell by +certain sounds made by them, as they were disturbed, that no other +intruders were in the vicinity. But that weird whispering, coming as it +did from an undiscovered source, was inhuman and utterly uncanny. + +Was it possible that her ears had deceived her? Was it one of the omens +believed in by the superstitious? The wall whence the voices appeared to +emanate was, she knew, about seven feet thick--an outer wall of the old +keep. She was aware of this because in one of the folio tomes in the +library was a picture of the castle as it appeared in 1510, taken from +some manuscript of that period preserved in the British Museum. She, who +had explored the ruins dozens of times, knew well that at the point +where she was standing there could be no place of concealment. Beyond +that wall, the hill, covered with bushes and brushwood, descended sheer +for three hundred feet or so to the bottom of the glen. Had the voices +sounded from one or other of the half-choked chambers which remained +more or less intact she would not have been so puzzled; but, as it was, +the weird whisperings seemed to come forth from space. Sometimes they +sounded so low that she could scarcely hear them; at others they were so +loud that she could almost distinguish the words uttered by the unseen. +Was it merely a phenomenon caused by the wind blowing through some crack +in the ponderous lichen-covered wall? + +She looked beyond at the great dark yew, the justice-tree of the +Grahams. The night was perfectly calm. Not a leaf stirred either upon +that or upon the other trees. The ivy, high above and exposed to the +slightest breath of a breeze, was motionless; only the going and coming +of the night-birds moved it. No. She decided once and for all that the +noise was that of voices, spectral voices though they might be. + +Again she strained her eyes, when still again those soft, sibilant +whisperings sounded weird and quite inexplicable. + +Slowly, and with greatest caution, she moved along beneath the wall, but +as she did so she seemed to recede from the sound. So back she went to +the spot where she had previously stood, and there again remained +listening. + +There were two distinct voices; at least that was the conclusion at +which she arrived after nearly a quarter of an hour of most minute +investigation. + +Once she fancied, in her excitement, that away in the farther corner of +the ruined courtyard she saw a slowly moving form like a thin column of +mist. Was it the Lady of Glencardine--the apparition of the hapless Lady +Jane Glencardine? But on closer inspection she decided that it was +merely due to her own distorted imagination, and dismissed it from her +mind. + +Those low, curious whisperings alone puzzled her. They were certainly +not sounds that could be made by any rodents within the walls, because +they were voices, distinctly and indisputably _voices_, which at some +moments were raised in argument, and then fell away into sounds of +indistinct murmuring. Whence did they come? She again moved noiselessly +from place to place, at length deciding that only at one point--the +point where she had first stood--could the sounds be heard distinctly. +So to that spot once more the girl returned, standing there like a +statue, her ears strained for every sound, waiting and wondering. But +the Whispers had now ceased. In the distance the stable-clock chimed +two. Yet she remained at her post, determined to solve the mystery, and +not in the least afraid of those weird stories which the country-folk in +the Highlands so entirely believed. No ghost, of whatever form, could +frighten her, she told herself. She had never believed in omens or +superstitions, and she steeled herself not to believe in them now. So +she remained there in patience, seeking some natural solution of the +extraordinary enigma. + +But though she waited until the chimes rang out three o'clock and the +moon was going down, she heard no other sound. The Whispers had suddenly +ended, and the silence of those gaunt, frowning old walls was +undisturbed. A slight wind had now sprung up, sweeping across the hills, +and causing her to feel chill. Therefore, at last she was reluctantly +compelled to quit her post of observation, and retrace her steps by the +rough byroad to the house, entering by one of the windows of the +morning-room, of which the burglar-alarm was broken, and which on many +occasions she had unfastened after her nocturnal rambles with Stewart. +Indeed, concealed under the walls she kept an old rusted table-knife, +and by its aid it was her habit to push back the catch and so gain +entrance, after reconcealing the knife for use on a future occasion. + +On reaching her own room she stood for a few moments reflecting deeply +upon her remarkable and inexplicable discovery. Had the story of those +whisperings been told to her she would certainly have scouted them; but +she had heard them with her own ears, and was certain that she had not +been deceived. It was a mystery, absolute and complete; and, regarding +it as such, she retired to bed. + +But her thoughts were very naturally full of the weird story told of the +dead and gone owners of Glencardine. She recollected that horrible story +of the Ghaist of Manse and of the spectre of Bridgend. In the library +she had, a year ago, discovered a strange old book--one which sixty +years before had been in universal circulation--entitled _Satan's +Invisible World Discovered_, and she had read it from beginning to end. +This book had, perhaps, more influence upon the simple-minded country +people in Scotland than any other work. It consisted entirely of +relations of ghosts of murdered persons, witches, warlocks, and fairies; +and as it was read as an indoor amusement in the presence of children, +and followed up by unfounded tales of the same description, the +youngsters were afraid to turn round in case they might be grasped by +the "Old One." So strong, indeed, became this impression that even +grown-up people would not venture, through fear, into another room or +down a stair after nightfall. + +Her experience in the old castle had, to say the least, been remarkable. +Those weird whisperings were extraordinary. For hours she lay reflecting +upon the many traditions of the old place, some recorded in the historic +notices of the House of the Montrose, and others which had gathered from +local sources--the farmers of the neighbourhood, the keepers, and +servants. Those noises in the night were mysterious and puzzling. + +Next morning she went alone to the kennels to find Stewart and to +question him. He had told her many weird stories and traditions of the +old place, and it struck her that he might be able to furnish her with +some information regarding her strange discovery. Had anyone else heard +those Whispers besides herself, she wondered. + +She met several of the guests, but assiduously avoided them, until at +last she saw the thin, long-legged keeper going towards his cottage with +Dash, the faithful old spaniel, at his heels. + +When she hailed him he touched his cap respectfully, changed his gun to +the other arm, and wished her "Guid-mornin', Miss Gabrielle," in his +strong Scotch accent. + +She bade him put down his gun and walk with her up the hill towards the +ruins. + +"Look here, Stewart," she commanded in a confidential tone, "I'm going +to take you into my confidence. I know I can trust you with a secret." + +"Ye may, miss," replied the keen-eyed Scot. "I houp Sir Henry trusts me +as a faithfu' servant. I've been on Glencardine estate noo, miss, thae +forty year." + +"Stewart, we all know you are faithful, and that you can keep your +tongue still. What I'm about to tell you is in strictest confidence. Not +even my father knows it." + +"Ah! then it's a secret e'en frae the laird, eh?" + +"Yes," she replied. "I want you to come up to the old castle with me," +pointing to the great ruined pile standing boldly in the summer +sunlight, "and I want you to tell me all you know. I've had a very +uncanny experience there." + +"What, miss!" exclaimed the man, halting and looking her seriously in +the face; "ha'e ye seen the ghaist?" + +"No, I haven't seen any ghost," replied the girl; "but last night I +heard most extraordinary sounds, as though people were within the old +walls." + +"Guid sake, miss! an' ha'e ye actually h'ard the Whispers?" he gasped. + +"Then other people have heard them, eh?" inquired the girl quickly. +"Tell me all you know about the matter, Stewart." + +"A'?" he said, slowly shaking his head. "I ken but a wee bittie aboot +the noises." + +"Who has heard them besides myself?" + +"Maxwell o'Tullichuil's girl. She said she h'ard the Whispers ae nicht +aboot a year syne. They're a bad omen, miss, for the lassie deed sudden +a fortnicht later." + +"Did anyone else hear them?" + +"Auld Willie Buchan, wha lived doon in Auchterarder village, declared +that ae nicht, while poachin' for rabbits, he h'ard the voices. He telt +the doctor sae when he lay in bed a-deein' aboot three weeks +aifterwards. Ay, miss, I'm sair sorry ye've h'ard the Whispers." + +"Then they're regarded as a bad omen to those who overhear them?" she +remarked. + +"That's sae. There's bin ithers wha acted as eavesdroppers, an' they a' +deed very sune aifterwards. There was Jean Kirkwood an' Geordie +Menteith. The latter was a young keeper I had here aboot a year syne. He +cam' tae me ae mornin' an' said that while lyin' up for poachers the +nicht afore, he distinc'ly h'ard the Whispers. Kennin' what folk say +aboot the owerhearin' o' them bein' fatal, I lauched at 'im an' told 'im +no' to tak' ony tent o' auld wives' gossip. But, miss, sure enough, +within a week he got blood-pizinin', an', though they took 'im to the +hospital in Perth, he deed." + +"Then popular superstition points to the fact that anyone who +accidentally acts as eavesdropper is doomed to death, eh? A very nice +outlook for me!" she remarked. + +"Oh, Miss Gabrielle!" exclaimed the man, greatly concerned, "dinna treat +the maitter lichtly, I beg o' ye. I did, wi' puir Menteith, an' he deed +juist like the ithers." + +"But what does it all mean?" asked the daughter of the house in a calm, +matter-of-fact voice. She knew well that Stewart was just as +superstitious as any of his class, for some of the stories he had told +her had been most fearful and wonderful elaborations of historical fact. + +"It means, I'm fear'd, miss," he replied, "that the Whispers which come +frae naewhere are fore-warnin's o' daith." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +EXPLAINS SOME CURIOUS FACTS + + +Gabrielle was silent for a moment. No doubt Stewart meant what he said; +he was not endeavouring to alarm her unduly, but thoroughly believed in +supernatural agencies. "I suppose you've already examined the ruins +thoroughly, eh?" she asked at last. + +"Examined them?" echoed the gray-bearded man. "I should think sae, +aifter forty-odd years here. Why, as a laddie I used to play there ilka +day, an' ha'e been in ilka neuk an' cranny." + +"Nevertheless, come up now with me," she said. "I want to explain to you +exactly where and how I heard the voices." + +"The Whispers are an uncanny thing," said the keeper, with his broad +accent. "I dinna like them, miss; I dinna like tae hear what ye tell me +ava." + +"Oh, don't worry about me, Stewart," she laughed. "I'm not afraid of any +omen. I only mean to fathom the mystery, and I want your assistance in +doing so. But, of course, you'll say no word to a soul. Remember that." + +"If it be yer wush, Miss Gabrielle, I'll say naething," he promised. And +together they descended the steep grass-slope and overgrown foundations +of the castle until they stood in the old courtyard, close to the +ancient justice-tree, the exact spot where the girl had stood on the +previous night. + +"I could hear plainly as I stood just here," she said. "The sound of +voices seemed to come from that wall there"; and she pointed to the gray +flint wall, half-overgrown with ivy, about six yards away. + +Stewart made no remark. It was not the first occasion on which he had +examined that place in an attempt to solve the mystery of the nocturnal +whisperings. He walked across to the wall, tapping it with his hand, +while the faithful spaniel began sniffing in expectancy of something to +bolt. "There's naething here, miss--absolutely naething," he declared, +as they both examined the wall minutely. Its depth did not admit of any +chamber, for it was an inner wall; and, according to the gamekeeper's +statement, he had already tested it years ago, and found it solid +masonry. + +"If I went forward or backward, then the sounds were lost to me," +Gabrielle explained, much puzzled. + +"Ay. That's juist what they a' said," remarked the keeper, with an +apprehensive look upon his face. "The Whispers are only h'ard at ae +spot, whaur ye've juist stood. I've seen the lady a' in green masel', +miss--aince when I was a laddie, an' again aboot ten year syne." + +"You mean, Stewart, that you imagined that you saw an apparition. You +were alone, I suppose?" + +"Yes, miss, I was alane." + +"Well, you thought you saw the Lady of Glencardine. Where was she?" + +"On the drive, in front o' the hoose." + +"Perhaps somebody played a practical joke on you. The Green Lady is +Glencardine's favourite spectre, isn't she--perfectly harmless, I mean?" + +"Ay, miss. Lots o' folk saw her ten year syne. But nooadays she seems to +ha'e been laid. Somebody said they saw her last Glesca holidays, but I +dinna believe 't." + +"Neither do I, Stewart. But don't let's trouble about the unfortunate +lady, who ought to have been at rest long ago. It's those weird +whisperings I mean to investigate." And she looked blankly around her at +the great, cyclopean walls and high, weather-beaten towers, gaunt yet +picturesque in the morning sunshine. + +The keeper shook his shaggy head. "I'm afear'd, Miss Gabrielle, that +ye'll ne'er solve the mystery. There's somethin' sae fatal aboot the +whisperin's," he said, speaking in his pleasant Highland tongue, "that +naebody cares tae attempt the investigation. They div say that the +Whispers are the voice o' the De'il himsel'." + +The girl, in her short blue serge skirt, white cotton blouse, and blue +tam-o'-shanter, laughed at the man's dread. There must be a distinct +cause for this noise she had heard, she argued. Yet, though they both +spent half-an-hour wandering among the ruins, standing in the roofless +banqueting hall, and traversing stone corridors and lichen-covered, +moss-grown, ruined chambers choked with weeds, their efforts to obtain +any clue were all in vain. + +To Gabrielle it was quite evident that the old keeper regarded the +incident of the previous night as a fatal omen, for he was most +solicitous of her welfare. He went so far as to crave permission to go +to Sir Henry and put the whole of the mysterious facts before him. + +But she would not hear of it. She meant to solve the mystery herself. If +her father learnt of the affair, and of the ill-omen connected with it, +the matter would surely cause him great uneasiness. Why should he be +worried on her account? No, she would never allow it, and told Stewart +plainly of her disapproval of such a course. + +"But, tell me," she asked at last, as returning to the courtyard, they +stood together at the spot where she had stood in that moonlit hour and +heard with her own ears those weird, mysterious voices coming from +nowhere--"tell me, Stewart, is there any legend connected with the +Whispers? Have you ever heard any story concerning their origin?" + +"Of coorse, miss. Through all Perthshire it's weel kent," replied the +man slowly, not, it seemed, without considerable reluctance. "What is +h'ard by those doomed tae daith is the conspiracy o' Charles Lord +Glencardine an' the Earl o' Kintyre for the murder o' the infamous +Cardinal Setoun o' St. Andrews, wha, as I dare say ye ken fra history, +miss, was assassinated here, on this very spot whaur we stan'. The Earl +o' Kintyre, thegither wi' Lord Glencardine, his dochter Mary, an' ane o' +the M'Intyres o' Talnetry, an' Wemyss o' Strathblane, were a year later +tried by a commission issued under the name o' Mary Queen o' Scots; but +sae popular was the murder o' the Cardinal that the accused were +acquitted." + +"Yes," exclaimed the girl, "I remember reading something about it in +Scottish history. And the Whispers are, I suppose, said to be the +ghostly conspirators in conclave." + +"That's what folk say, miss. They div say as weel that Auld Nick himsel' +was present, an' gied the decision that the Cardinal, wha was to be +askit ower frae Stirlin', should dee. It is his evil counsel that is +h'ard by those whom death will quickly overtake." + +"Really, Stewart," she laughed, "you make me feel quite uncomfortable." + +"But, miss, Sir Henry already kens a' aboot the Whispers," said the man. +"I h'ard him tellin' a young gentleman wha cam' doon last shootin' +season a guid dale aboot it. They veesited the auld castle thegither, +an' I happened tae be hereaboots." + +This caused the girl to resolve to learn from her father what she could. +He was an antiquary, and had the history of Glencardine at his +finger-ends. + +So presently she strolled back to Stewart's cottage, and after receiving +from the faithful servant urgent injunctions to "have a care" of +herself, she walked on to the tennis-lawn, where, shaded by the high +trees, Lady Heyburn, in white serge, and three of her male guests were +playing. + +"Father," she said that same evening, when they had settled down to +commence work upon those ever-arriving documents from Paris, "what was +the cause of Glencardine becoming a ruin?" + +"Well, the reason of its downfall was Lord Glencardine's change of +front," he answered. "In 1638 he became a stalwart supporter of +Episcopacy and Divine Right, a course which proved equally fatal to +himself and to his ancient Castle of Glencardine. Reid, in his _Annals +of Auchterarder_, relates how, after the Civil War, Lord Dundrennan, in +company with his cousin, George Lochan of Ochiltree, and burgess of +Auchterarder and the Laird of M'Nab, descended into Strathearn and +occupied the castle with about fifty men. He hurriedly put it into a +state of defence. General Overton besieged the place in person, with his +army, consisting of eighteen hundred foot and eleven hundred horse, and +battered the walls with cannon, having brought a number of great +ordnance from Stirling Castle. For ten days the castle was held by the +small but resolute garrison, and might have held out longer had not the +well failed. With the prospect of death before them in the event of the +place being taken, Dundrennan and Lochan contrived to break through the +enemy, who surrounded the castle on all sides. A page of the name of +John Hamilton, in attendance upon Lord Dundrennan, well acquainted with +the localities of Glencardine, undertook to be their guide. When the +moon was down, Dundrennan and Lochan issued from the castle by a small +postern, where they found Hamilton waiting for them with three horses. +They mounted, and, passing quietly through the enemy's force, they +escaped, and reached Lord Glencardine in safety to the north. On the +morning after their escape the castle was surrendered, and thirty-five +of the garrison were sent to the Tolbooth of Edinburgh. General Overton +ordered the remaining twelve of those who had surrendered to be shot at +a post, and the castle to be burned, which was accordingly done." + +"The country-folk in the neighbourhood are full of strange stories about +ghostly whisperings being heard in the castle ruins," she remarked. + +Her father started, and raising his expressionless face to hers, asked +in almost a snappish tone, "Well, and who has heard them now, pray?" + +"Several people, I believe." + +"And they're gossiping as usual, eh?" he remarked in a hard, dry tone. +"Up here in the Highlands they are ridiculously superstitious. Who's +been telling you about the Whispers, child?" + +"Oh, I've learnt of them from several people," she replied evasively. +"Mysterious voices were heard, they say, last night, and for several +nights previously. It's also a local tradition that all those who hear +the whispered warning die within forty days." + +"Bosh, my dear! utter rubbish!" the old man laughed. "Who's been trying +to frighten you?" + +"Nobody, dad. I merely tell you what the country people say." + +"Yes," he remarked, "I know. The story is a gruesome one, and in the +Highlands a story is not attractive unless it has some fatality in it. +Up here the belief in demonology and witchcraft has died very hard. Get +down Penny's _Traditions of Perth_--first shelf to the left beyond the +second window, right-hand corner. It will explain to you how very +superstitious the people have ever been." + +"I know all that, dad," persisted the girl; "but I'm interested in this +extraordinary story of the Whispers. You, as an antiquary, have, no +doubt, investigated all the legendary lore connected with Glencardine. +The people declare that the Whispers are heard, and, I am told, believe +some extraordinary theory regarding them." + +"A theory!" he exclaimed quickly. "What theory? What has been +discovered?" + +"Nothing, as far as I know." + +"No, and nothing ever will be discovered," he said. + +"Why not, dad?" she asked. "Do you deny that strange noises are heard +there when there is so much evidence in the affirmative?" + +"I really don't know, my dear. I've never had the pleasure of hearing +them myself, though I've been told of them ever since I bought the +place." + +"But there is a legend which is supposed to account for them, is there +not, dad? Do tell me what you know," she urged. "I'm so very much +interested in the old place and its bygone history." + +"The less you know concerning the Whispers the better, my dear," he +replied abruptly. + +Her father's ominous words surprised her. Did he, too, believe in the +fatal omen, though he was trying to mislead her and poke fun at the +local superstition? + +"But why shouldn't I know?" she protested. "This is the first time, dad, +that you've tried to withhold from me any antiquarian knowledge that you +possess. Besides, the story of Glencardine and its lords is intensely +fascinating to me." + +"So might be the Whispers, if ever you had the misfortune to hear them." + +"Misfortune!" she gasped, turning pale. "Why do you say misfortune?" + +But he laughed a strange, hollow laugh, and, endeavouring to turn his +seriousness into humour, said, "Well, they might give you a turn, +perhaps. They would make me start, I feel sure. From what I've been +told, they seem to come from nowhere. It is practically an unseen +spectre who has the rather unusual gift of speech." + +It was on the tip of her tongue to explain how, on the previous night, +she had actually listened to the Whispers. But she refrained. She +recognised that, though he would not admit it, he was nevertheless +superstitious of ill results following the hearing of those weird +whisperings. So she made eager pretence of wishing to know the +historical facts of the incident referred to by the gamekeeper. + +"No," exclaimed the blind man softly but firmly, taking her hand and +stroking her arm tenderly, as was his habit when he wished to persuade +her. "No, Gabrielle dear," he said; "we will change the subject now. Do +not bother your head about absurd country legends of that sort. There +are so many concerning Glencardine and its lords that a whole volume +might be filled with them." + +"But I want to know all about this particular one, dad," she said. + +"From me you will never know, my dear," was his answer, as his gray, +serious face was upturned to hers. "You have never heard the Whispers, +and I sincerely hope that you never will." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +WHAT FLOCKART FORESAW + + +The following afternoon was glaring and breathless. Gabrielle had taken +Stokes, with May Spencer (a girl friend visiting her mother), and driven +the "sixteen" over to Connachan with a message from her mother--an +invitation to Lady Murie and her party to luncheon and tennis on the +following day. It was three o'clock, the hour when silence is upon a +summer house-party in the country. Beneath the blazing sun Glencardine +lay amid its rose-gardens, its cut beech-hedges, and its bowers of +greenery. The palpitating heat was terrible--the hottest day that +summer. + +At the end of the long, handsome drawing-room, with its pale blue carpet +and silk-covered furniture, Lady Heyburn was lolling lazily in her chair +near the wide, bright steel grate, with her inseparable friend, James +Flockart, standing before her. + +The striped blinds outside the three long, open windows subdued the +sun-glare, yet the very odour of the cut flowers in the room seemed +oppressive, while without could be heard the busy hum of insect life. + +The Baronet's handsome wife looked cool and comfortable in her gown of +white embroidered muslin, her head thrown back upon the silken cushion, +and her eyes raised to those of the man, who was idly smoking a +cigarette, at her side. + +"The thing grows more and more inexplicable," he was saying to her in a +low, strained voice. "All the inquiries I've caused to be made in London +and in Paris have led to a negative result." + +"We shall only know the truth when we get a peep of those papers in +Henry's safe, my dear friend," was the woman's reply. + +"And that's a pretty difficult job. You don't know where the old fellow +keeps the key?" + +"I only wish I did. Gabrielle knows, no doubt." + +"Then you ought to compel her to divulge," he urged. "Once we get hold +of that key for half-an-hour, we could learn a lot." + +"A lot that would be useful to you, eh?" remarked the woman, with a +meaning smile. + +"And to you also," he said. "Couldn't we somehow watch and see where he +hides the safe-key? He never has it upon him, you say." + +"It isn't on his bunch." + +"Then he must have a hiding-place for it, or it may be on his +watch-chain," remarked the man decisively. "Get rid of all the guests as +quickly as you can, Winnie. While they're about there's always a danger +of eavesdroppers and of watchers." + +"I've already announced that I'm going up to Inverness next week, so +within the next day or two our friends will all leave." + +"Good! Then the ground will be cleared for action," he remarked, blowing +a cloud of smoke from his lips. "What's your decision regarding the +girl?" + +"The same as yours." + +"But she hates me, you know," laughed the man in gray flannel. + +"Yes; but she fears you at the same time, and with her you can do more +by fear than by love." + +"True. But she's got a spirit of her own, recollect." + +"That must be broken." + +"And what about Walter?" + +"Oh, as soon as he finds out the truth he'll drop her, never fear. He's +already rather fond of that tall, dark girl of Dundas's. You saw her at +the ball. You recollect her?" + +Flockart grunted. He was assisting this woman at his side to play a +desperate game. This was not, however, the first occasion on which they +had acted in conjunction in matters that were not altogether honourable. +There had never been any question of affection between them. The pair +regarded each other from a purely business standpoint. People might +gossip as much as ever they liked; but the two always congratulated +themselves that they had never committed the supreme folly of falling in +love with each other. The woman had married Sir Henry merely in order to +obtain money and position; and this man Flockart, who for years had been +her most intimate associate, had ever remained behind her, to advise and +to help her. + +Perhaps had the Baronet not been afflicted he would have disapproved of +this constant companionship, for he would, no doubt, have overheard in +society certain tittle-tattle which, though utterly unfounded, would not +have been exactly pleasant. But as he was blind and never went into +society, he remained in blissful ignorance, wrapped up in his mysterious +"business" and his hobbies. + +Gabrielle, on her return from school, had at first accepted Flockart as +her friend. It was he who took her for walks, who taught her to cast a +fly, to shoot rooks, and to play the national winter game of +Scotland--curling. He had in the first few months of her return home +done everything in his power to attract the young girl's friendship, +while at the same time her ladyship showed herself extraordinarily well +disposed towards her. + +Within a year, however, by reason of various remarks made by people in +her presence, and on account of the cold disdain with which Lady Heyburn +treated her afflicted father, vague suspicions were aroused within her, +suspicions which gradually grew to hatred, until she clung to her +father, and, as his eyes and ears, took up a position of open defiance +towards her mother and her adventurous friend. + +The situation each day grew more and more strained. Lady Heyburn was, +even though of humble origin, a woman of unusual intelligence. In +various quarters she had been snubbed and ridiculed, but she gradually +managed in every case to get the better of her enemies. Many a man and +many a woman had had bitter cause to repent their enmity towards her. +They marvelled how their secrets became known to her. + +They did not know the power behind her--the sinister power of that +ingenious and unscrupulous man, James Flockart--the man who made it his +business to know other people's secrets. Though for years he had been +seized with a desire to get at the bottom of Sir Henry's private +affairs, he had never succeeded. The old Baronet was essentially a +recluse; he kept himself so much to himself, and was so careful that no +eyes save those of his daughter should see the mysterious documents +which came to him so regularly by registered post, that all Flockart's +efforts and those of Lady Heyburn had been futile. + +"I had another good look at the safe this morning," the man went on +presently. "It is one of the best makes, and would resist anything, +except, of course, the electric current." + +"To force it would be to put Henry on his guard," Lady Heyburn remarked, +"If we are to know what secrets are there, and use our knowledge for our +own benefit, we must open it with a key and relock it." + +"Well, Winnie, we must do something. We must both have money--that's +quite evident," he said. "That last five hundred you gave me will stave +off ruin for a week or so. But after that we must certainly be well +supplied, or else there may be revelations well--which will be as ugly +for yourself as for me." + +"I know," she exclaimed. "I fully realise the necessity of getting +funds. The other affair, though we worked it so well, proved a miserable +fiasco." + +"And very nearly gave us away into the bargain," he declared. "I tell +you frankly, Winnie, that if we can't pay a level five thousand in three +weeks' time the truth will be out, and you know what that will mean." + +He was watching her handsome face as he spoke, and he noticed how pale +and drawn were her features as he referred to certain ugly truths that +might leak out. + +"Yes," she gasped, "I know, James. We'd both find ourselves under +arrest. Such a _contretemps_ is really too terrible to think of." + +"But, my dear girl, it must be faced," he said, "if we don't get the +money. Can't you work Sir Henry for a bit more, say another thousand. +Make an excuse that you have bills to pay in London--dressmakers, +jewellers, milliners--any good story will surely do. He gives you +anything you ask for." + +She shook her head and sighed. "I fear I've imposed upon his good-nature +far too much already," she answered. "I know I'm extravagant; I'm sorry, +but can't help it. Born in me, I suppose. A few months ago he found out +that I'd been paying Mellish a hundred pounds each time to decorate Park +Street with flowers for my Wednesday evenings, and he created an awful +scene. He's getting horribly stingy of late." + +"Yes; but the flowers were a bit expensive, weren't they?" he remarked. + +"Not at all. Lady Fortrose, the wife of the soap-man, pays two hundred +and fifty pounds for flowers for her house every Thursday in the season; +and mine looked quite as good as hers. I think Mellish is much cheaper +than anybody else. And, just because I went to a cheap man, Henry was +horrible. He said all sorts of weird things about my reckless +extravagance and the suffering poor--as though I had anything to do with +them. The genuine poor are really people like you and me." + +"I know," he said philosophically, lighting another cigarette. "But all +this is beside the point. We want money, and money we must have in order +to avoid exposure. You--" + +"I was a fool to have had anything to do with that other little affair," +she interrupted. + +"It was not only myself who arranged it. Remember, it was you who +suggested it, because it seemed so easy, and because you had an old +score to pay off." + +"The woman was sacrificed, and at the same time an enemy learnt our +secret." + +"I couldn't help it," he protested. "You let your woman's vindictiveness +overstep your natural caution, my dear girl. If you'd taken my advice +there would have been no suspicion." + +Lady Heyburn was silent. She sat regarding the toe of her patent-leather +shoe fixedly, in deep reflection. She was powerless to protest, she was +so entirely in this man's hands. "Well," she asked at last, stirring +uneasily in her chair, "and suppose we are not able to raise the money, +what do you anticipate will be the result?" + +"A rapid reprisal," was his answer. "People like them don't +hesitate--they act." + +"Yes, I see," she remarked in a blank voice. "They have nothing to lose, +so they will bring pressure upon us." + +"Just as we once tried to bring pressure upon them. It's all a matter of +money. We pay the price arranged--a mere matter of business." + +"But how are we to get money?" + +"By getting a glance at what's in that safe," he replied. "Once we get +to know this mysterious secret of Sir Henry's, I and my friends can get +money easily enough. Leave it all to me." + +"But how--" + +"This matter you will please leave entirely to me, Winnie," he repeated +with determination. "We are both in danger--great danger; and that being +so, it is incumbent upon me to act boldly and fearlessly. I mean to get +the key, and see what is within that safe." + +"But the girl?" asked her ladyship. + +"Within one week from to-day the girl will no longer trouble us," he +said with an evil glance. "I do not intend that she shall remain a +barrier against our good fortune any longer. Understand that, and remain +perfectly calm, whatever may happen." + +"But you surely don't intend--you surely will not--" + +"I shall act as I think proper, and without any sentimental advice from +you," he declared with a mock bow, but straightening himself instantly +when at the door was heard a fumbling, and the gray-bearded man in blue +spectacles, his thin white hand groping before him, slowly entered the +room. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +CONCERNS THE CURSE OF THE CARDINAL + + +Gabrielle and Walter were seated together under one of the big oaks at +the edge of the tennis-lawn at Connachan. With May Spencer and Lady +Murie they had been playing; but his mother and the young girl had gone +into the house for tea, leaving the lovers alone. + +"What's the matter with you to-day, darling?" he had asked as soon as +they were out of hearing. "You don't seem yourself, somehow." + +She started quickly, and, pulling herself up, tried to smile, assuring +him that there was really nothing amiss. + +"I do wish you'd tell me what it is that's troubling you so," he said. +"Ever since I returned from abroad you've not been yourself. It's no use +denying it, you know." + +"I haven't felt well, perhaps. I think it must be the weather," she +assured him. + +But he, viewing the facts in the light of what he had noticed at their +almost daily clandestine meetings, knew that she was concealing +something from him. + +Before his departure on that journey to Japan she had always been so +very frank and open. Nowadays, however, she seemed to have entirely +changed. Her love for him was just the same--that he knew; it was her +unusual manner, so full of fear and vague apprehension, which caused him +so many hours of grave reflection. + +With her woman's cleverness, she succeeded in changing the topic of +conversation, and presently they rose to join his mother at the +tea-table in the drawing-room. + +Half-an-hour later, while they were idling in the hall together, she +suddenly exclaimed, "Walter, you're great on Scottish history, so I want +some information from you. I'm studying the legends and traditions of +our place, Glencardine. What do you happen to know about them?" + +"Well," he laughed, "there are dozens of weird tales about the old +castle. I remember reading quite a lot of extraordinary stories in some +book or other about three years ago. I found it in the library here." + +"Oh! do tell me all about it," she urged instantly. "Weird legends +always fascinate me. Of course I know just the outlines of its history. +It's the tales told by the country-folk in which I'm so deeply +interested." + +"You mean the apparition of the Lady in Green, and all that?" + +"Yes; and the Whispers." + +He started quickly at her words, and asked, "What do you know about +them, dear? I hope you haven't heard them?" + +She smiled, with a frantic effort at unconcern, saying, "And what harm, +pray, would they have done me, even if I had?" + +"Well," he said, "they are only heard by those whose days are numbered; +at least, so say the folk about here." + +"Of course, it's only a fable," she laughed. "The people of the Ochils +are so very superstitious." + +"I believe the fatal result of listening to those mysterious Whispers +has been proved in more than one instance," remarked the young man quite +seriously. "For myself, I do not believe in any supernatural agency. I +merely tell you what the people hereabouts believe. Nobody from this +neighbourhood could ever be induced to visit your ruins on a moonlit +night." + +"That's just why I want to know the origin of the unexplained +phenomenon." + +"How can I tell you?" + +"But you know--I mean you've heard the legend, haven't you?" + +"Yes," was his reply. "The story of the Whispers of Glencardine is well +known all through Perthshire. Hasn't your father ever told you?" + +"He refuses." + +"Because, no doubt, he fears that you might perhaps take it into your +head to go there one night and try to listen for them," her lover said. +"Do not court misfortune, dearest. Take my advice, and give the place a +very wide berth. There is, without a doubt, some uncanny agency there." + +The girl laughed outright. "I do declare, Walter, that you believe in +these foolish traditions," she said. + +"Well, I'm a Scot, you see, darling, and a little superstition is +perhaps permissible, especially in connection with such a mystery as the +strange disappearance of Cardinal Setoun." + +"Then, tell me the real story as you know it," she urged. "I'm much +interested. I only heard about the Whispers quite recently." + +"The historical facts, so far as I can recollect reading them in the +book in question," he said, "are to the effect that the Most Reverend +James Cardinal Setoun, Archbishop of St. Andrews, Chancellor of the +Kingdom, was in the middle of the sixteenth century directing all his +energies towards consolidating the Romish power in Scotland, and not +hesitating to resort to any crime which seemed likely to accomplish his +purpose. Many were the foul assassinations and terrible tortures upon +innocent persons performed at his orders. One person who fell into the +hands of this infamous cleric was Margaret, the second daughter of +Charles, Lord Glencardine, a beautiful girl of nineteen. Because she +would not betray her lover, she was so cruelly tortured in the +Cardinal's palace that she expired, after suffering fearful agony, and +her body was sent back to Glencardine with an insulting message to her +father, who at once swore to be avenged. The king had so far resigned +the conduct of the kingdom into the hands of his Eminence that nothing +save armed force could oppose him. Setoun knew that a union between +Henry VIII. and James V. would be followed by the downfall of the papal +power in Scotland, and therefore he laid a skilful plot. Whilst advising +James to resist the dictation of his uncle, he privately accused those +of the Scottish nobles who had joined the Reformers of meditated treason +against His Majesty. This placed the king in a serious dilemma, for he +could not proceed against Henry without the assistance of those very +nobles accused as traitors. The wily Cardinal had hoped that James +would, in self-defence, seek an alliance with France and Spain; but he +was mistaken. You know, of course, how the forces of the kingdom were +assembled and sent against the Duke of Norfolk. The invader was thus +repelled, and the Cardinal then endeavoured to organise a new expedition +under Romish leaders. This also failing, his Eminence endeavoured to +dictate to the country through the Earl of Arran, the Governor of +Scotland. By a clever ruse he pretended friendship with Erskine of Dun, +and endeavoured to use him for his own ends. Curiously enough, over +yonder"--and he pointed to a yellow parchment in a black ebony frame +hanging upon the panelled wall of the hall--"over there is one of the +Cardinal's letters to Erskine, which shows the infamous cleric's smooth, +insinuating style when it suited his purpose. I'll go and get it for you +to read." + +The young man rose, and, taking it down, brought it to her. She saw that +the parchment, about eight inches long by four wide, was covered with +writing in brown ink, half-faded, while attached was a formidable oval +red seal which bore a coat of arms surmounting the Cardinal's hat. + +With difficulty they made out this interesting letter to read as +follows: + +"RYCHT HONOURABLE AND TRAIST COUSING,--I commend me hartlie to you, +nocht doutting bot my lord governour hes written specialye to you at +this tyme to keep the diet with his lordship in Edinburgh the first day +of November nixt to cum, quhilk I dout nocht bot ye will kepe, and I +know perfitlie your guid will and mynd euer inclinit to serue my lord +governour, and how ye are nocht onnely determinit to serue his lordship, +at this tyme be yourself bot als your gret wais and solistatioun maid +with mony your gret freyndis to do the samin, quhilk I assuris you sall +cum bayth to your hier honour and the vele of you and your houss and +freyndis, quhilk ye salbe sure I sall procure and fortyfie euir at my +power, as I have shewin in mair speciale my mynd heirintil to your +cousin of Brechin, Knycht: Praing your effectuously to kepe trist, and +to be heir in Sanct Androwis at me this nixt Wedinsday, that we may +depairt all togydder by Thurisday nixt to cum, towart my lord governour, +and bring your frendis and servandis with you accordantly, and as my +lord governour hais speciale confidence in you at this tyme; and be sure +the plesour I can do you salbe evir reddy at my power as knawis God, +quha preserve you eternall. + +"At Sanct Androwis, the 25th day of October (1544). J. CARDINALL OFF +SANCT ANDROWIS. + +"To the rycht honourable and our rycht traist cousing the lard of Dvn." + +"Most interesting!" declared the young girl, holding the frame in her +hands. + +"It's doubly interesting, because it is believed that Erskine's brother +Henry, finding himself befooled by the crafty Cardinal, united with Lord +Glencardine to kill him and dispose of his body secretly, thus ridding +Scotland of one of her worst enemies," Walter went on. "For the past +five years stories had been continually leaking out of Setoun's inhuman +cruelty, his unscrupulous, fiendish tortures inflicted upon all those +who displeased him, and how certain persons who stood in his way had +died mysteriously or disappeared, no one knew whither. Hence it was +that, at Erskine's suggestion, Wemyss of Strathblane went over to +Glencardine, and with Charles, Lord Glencardine, conspired to invite the +Cardinal there, on pretence of taking counsel against the Protestants, +but instead to take his life. The conspirators were, it is said, joined +by the Earl of Kintyre and by Mary, the sixteen-year-old daughter of +Lord Charles, and sister of the poor girl so brutally done to death by +his Eminence. On several successive nights the best means of getting rid +of Setoun were considered and discussed, and it is declared that the +Whispers now heard sometimes at Glencardine are the secret deliberations +of those sworn to kill the infamous Cardinal. Mary, the daughter of the +house, was allowed to decide in what manner her sister's death should be +avenged, and at her suggestion it was resolved that the inhuman head of +the Roman Church should, before his life was taken, be put to the same +fiendish tortures as those to which her sister had been subjected in his +palace." + +"It is curious that after his crime the Cardinal should dare to visit +Glencardine," Gabrielle remarked. + +"Not exactly. His lordship, pretending that he wished to be appointed +Governor of Scotland in the place of the Earl of Arran, had purposely +made his peace with Setoun, who on his part was only too anxious to +again resume friendly relations with so powerful a noble. Therefore, +early in May, 1546, he went on a private visit, and almost unattended, +to Glencardine, within the walls of which fortress he disappeared for +ever. What exactly occurred will never be known. All that the Commission +who subsequently sat to try the conspirators were able to discover was +that the Cardinal had been taken to the dungeon beneath the north tower, +and there tortured horribly for several days, and afterwards burned at +the stake in the courtyard, the fire being ignited by Lord Glencardine +himself, and the dead Cardinal's ashes afterwards scattered to the +winds." + +"A terrible revenge!" exclaimed the girl with a shudder. "They were +veritable fiends in those days." + +"They were," he laughed, rehanging the frame upon the wall. "Some +historians have, of course, declared that Setoun was murdered at Mains +Castle, and others declare Cortachy to have been the scene of the +assassination; but the truth that it occurred at Glencardine is proved +by a quantity of the family papers which, when your father purchased +Glencardine, came into his possession. You ought to search through +them." + +"I will. I had no idea dad possessed any of the Glencardine papers," she +declared, much interested in that story of the past. "Perhaps from them +I may be able to glean something further regarding the strange Whispers +of Glencardine." + +"Make whatever searches you like, dearest," he said in all earnestness, +"but never attempt to investigate the Whispers themselves." And as they +were alone, he took her little hand in his, and looking into her face +with eyes of love, pressed her to promise him never to disregard his +warning. + +She told him nothing of her own weird experience. He was ignorant of the +fact that she had actually heard the mysterious Whispers, and that, as a +consequence, a great evil already lay upon her. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +FOLLOWS FLOCKART'S FORTUNES + + +One evening, a few days later, Gabrielle, seated beside her father at +his big writing-table, had concluded reading some reports, and had +received those brief, laconic replies which the blind man was in the +habit of giving, when she suddenly asked, "I believe, dad, that you have +a quantity of the Glencardine papers, haven't you? If I remember aright, +when you bought the castle you made possession of these papers a +stipulation." + +"Yes, dear, I did," was his answer. "I thought it a shame that the +papers of such a historic family should be dispersed at Sotheby's, as +they no doubt would have been. So I purchased them." + +"You've never let me see them," she said. "As you know, you've taught me +so much antiquarian knowledge that I'm becoming an enthusiast like +yourself." + +"You can see them, dear, of course," was his reply. "They are in that +big ebony cabinet at the end of the room yonder--about two hundred +charters, letters, and documents, dating from 1314 down to 1695." + +"I'll go through them to-morrow," she said. "I suppose they throw a good +deal of light upon the history of the Grahams and the actions of the +great Lord Glencardine?" + +"Yes; but I fear you'll find them very difficult to read," he remarked. +"Not being able to see them for myself, alas! I had to send them to +London to be deciphered." + +"And you still have the translations?" + +"Unfortunately, no, dear. Professor Petre at Oxford, who is preparing +his great work on Glencardine, begged me to let him see them, and he +still has them." + +"Well," she laughed, "I must therefore content myself with the +originals, eh? Do they throw any further light upon the secret agreement +in 1644 between the great Marquess of Glencardine, whose home was here, +and King Charles?" + +"Really, Gabrielle," laughed the old antiquary, "for a girl, your +recollection of abstruse historical points is wonderful." + +"Not at all. There was a mystery, I remember, and mysteries always +attract me." + +"Well," he replied after a few moments' hesitation, "I fear you will not +find the solution of that point, or of any other really important point, +contained in any of the papers. The most interesting records they +contain are some relating to Alexander Senescallus (Stewart), the fourth +son of Robert II., who was granted in 1379 a Castle of Garth. He was a +reprobate, and known as the Wolf of Badenoch. On his father's accession +in 1371, he was granted the charters of Badenoch, with the Castle of +Lochindorb and of Strathavon; and at a slightly later date he was +granted the lands of Tempar, Lassintulach, Tulachcroske, and Gort +(Garth). As you know, many traditions regarding him still survive; but +one fact contained in yonder papers is always interesting, for it shows +that he was confined in the dungeon of the old keep of Glencardine until +Robert III. released him. There are also a quantity of interesting facts +regarding 'Red Neil,' or Neil Stewart of Fothergill, who was Laird of +Garth, which will some day be of value to future historians of +Scotland." + +"Is there anything concerning the mysterious fate of Cardinal Setoun +within Glencardine?" asked the girl, unable to curb her curiosity. + +"No," he replied in a manner which was almost snappish. "That's a mere +tradition, my dear--simply a tale invented by the country-folk. It seems +to have been imagined in order to associate it with the mysterious +Whispers which some superstitious people claim to have heard. No old +castle is complete nowadays without its ghost, so we have for our share +the Lady of Glencardine and the Whispers," he laughed. + +"But I thought it was a matter of authenticated history that the +Cardinal was actually enticed here, and disappeared!" exclaimed the +girl. "I should have thought that the Glencardine papers would have +referred to it," she added, recollecting what Walter had told her. + +"Well, they don't; so why worry your head, dear, over a mere fable? I +have already gone very carefully into all the facts that are proved, and +have come to the conclusion that the story of the torture of his +Eminence is a fairy-tale, and that the supernatural Whispers have only +been heard in imagination." + +She was silent. She recollected that sound of murmuring voices. It was +certainly not imagination. + +"But you'll let me have the key of the cabinet, won't you, dad?" she +asked, glancing across to where stood a beautiful old Florentine cabinet +of ebony inlaid with ivory, and reaching almost to the ceiling. + +"Certainly, Gabrielle dear," was the reply of the expressionless man. +"It is upstairs in my room. You shall have it to-morrow." + +And then he lapsed again into silence, reflecting whether it were not +best to secure certain parchment records from those drawers before his +daughter investigated them. There was a small roll of yellow parchment, +tied with modern tape, which he was half-inclined to conceal from her +curious gaze. Truth to tell, they constituted a record of the torture +and death of Cardinal Setoun much in the same manner as Walter Murie had +described to her. If she read that strange chronicle she might, he +feared, be impelled to watch and endeavour to hear the fatal Whispers. + +Strange though it was, yet those sounds were a subject which caused him +daily apprehension. Though he never referred to them save to ridicule +every suggestion of their existence, or to attribute the weird noises to +the wind, yet never a day passed but he sat calmly reflecting. That one +matter which his daughter knew above all others caused him the most +serious thought and apprehension--a fear which had become doubly +increased since she had referred to the curious and apparently +inexplicable phenomenon. He, a refined, educated man of brilliant +attainments, scouted the idea of any supernatural agency. To those who +had made mention of the Whispers--among them his friend Murie, the Laird +of Connachan; Lord Strathavon, from whom he had purchased the estate; +and several of the neighbouring landowners--he had always expressed a +hope that one day he might be fortunate enough to hear the whispered +counsel of the Evil One, and so decide for himself its true cause. He +pretended always to treat the affair with humorous incredulity, yet at +heart he was sorely troubled. + +If his young wife's remarkable friendship with the man Flockart often +caused him bitter thoughts, then the mysterious Whispers and the +fatality so strangely connected with them were equally a source of +constant inquietude. + +A few days later Flockart, with clever cunning, seemed to alter his +ingenious tactics completely, for suddenly he had commenced to bestir +himself in Sir Henry's interests. One morning after breakfast, taking +the Baronet by the arm, he led him for a stroll along the drive, down to +the lodge-gates, and back, for the purpose, as he explained, of speaking +with him in confidence. + +At first the blind man was full of curiosity as to the reason of this +unusual action, as those deprived of sight usually are. + +"I know, Sir Henry," Flockart said presently, and not without +hesitation, "that certain ill-disposed people have endeavoured to place +an entirely wrong construction upon your wife's friendship towards me. +For that reason I have decided to leave Glencardine, both for her sake +and for yours." + +"But, my dear fellow," exclaimed the blind man, "why do you suggest such +a thing?" + +"Because your wife's enemies have their mouths full of scandalous lies," +he replied. "I tell you frankly, Sir Henry, that my friendship with her +ladyship is a purely platonic one. We were children together, at home in +Bedford, and ever since our schooldays I have remained her friend." + +"I know that," remarked the old man quietly. "My wife told me that when +you dined with us on several occasions at Park Street. I have never +objected to the friendship existing between you, Flockart; for, though I +have never seen you, I have always believed you to be a man of honour." + +"I feel very much gratified at those words, Sir Henry," he said in a +deep, earnest voice, glancing at the grey, dark-spectacled face of the +fragile man whose arm he was holding. "Indeed, I've always hoped that +you would repose sufficient confidence in me to know that I am not such +a blackguard as to take any advantage of your cruel affliction." + +The blind Baronet sighed. "Ah, my dear Flockart! all men are not +honourable like yourself. There are many ready to take advantage of my +lack of eyesight. I have experienced it, alas! in business as well as in +my private life." + +The dark-faced man was silent. He was playing an ingenious, if +dangerous, game. The Baronet had referred to business--his mysterious +business, the secret of which he was now trying his best to solve. +"Yes," he said at length, "I suppose the standard of honesty in business +is nowadays just about as low as it can possibly be, eh? Well, I've +never been in business myself, so I don't know. In the one or two small +financial deals in which I've had a share, I've usually been 'frozen +out' in the end." + +"Ah, Flockart," sighed the Laird of Glencardine, "you are unfortunately +quite correct. The so-called smart business man is the one who robs his +neighbour without committing the sin of being found out." + +This remark caused the other a twinge of conscience. Did he intend to +convey any hidden meaning? He was full of cunning and cleverness. +"Well," Flockart exclaimed, "I'm truly gratified to think that I retain +your confidence, Sir Henry. If I have in the past been able to be of any +little service to Lady Heyburn, I assure you I am only too delighted. +Yet I think that in the face of gossip which some of your neighbours +here are trying to spread--gossip started, I very much fear, by Miss +Gabrielle--my absence from Glencardine will be of distinct advantage to +all concerned. I do not, my dear Sir Henry, desire for one single moment +to embarrass you, or to place her ladyship in any false position. I----" + +"But, my dear fellow, you've become quite an institution with us!" +exclaimed Sir Henry in dismay. "We should all be lost without you. Why, +as you know, you've done me so many kindnesses that I can never +sufficiently repay you. I don't forget how, through your advice, I've +been able to effect quite a number of economies at Caistor, and how +often you assist my wife in various ways in her social duties." + +"My dear Sir Henry," he laughed, "you know I'm always ready to serve +either of you whenever it lies in my power. Only--well, I feel that I'm +in your wife's company far too much, both here and in Lincolnshire. +People are talking. Therefore, I have decided to leave her, and my +decision is irrevocable." + +"Let them talk. If I do not object, you surely need not." + +"But for your wife's sake?" + +"I know--I know how cruel are people's tongues, Flockart," remarked the +old man. + +"Yes; and the gossip was unfortunately started by Gabrielle. It was +surely very unwise of her." + +"Ah!" sighed the other, "it is the old story. Every girl becomes jealous +of her step-mother. And she's only a child, after all," he added +apologetically. + +"Well, much as I esteem her, and much as I admire her, I feel, Sir +Henry, that she had no right to bring discord into your house. I hope +you will permit me to say this, with all due deference to the fact that +she's your daughter. But I consider her conduct in this matter has been +very unfriendly." + +Again the Baronet was silent, and his companion saw that he was +reflecting deeply. "How do you know that the scandal was started by +her?" he asked presently, in a low, rather strained voice. + +"Young Paterson told me so. It appears that when she was staying with +them over at Tullyallan she told his mother all sorts of absurd stories. +And Mrs. Paterson who, as you know, is a terrible gossip--told the Reads +of Logie and the Redcastles, and in a few days these fictions, with all +sorts of embroidery, were spread half over Scotland. Why, my friend +Lindsay, the member for Berwick, heard some whispers the other day in +the Carlton Club! So, in consequence of that, Sir Henry, I'm resolved, +much against my will and inclination, I assure you, to end my friendship +with your wife." + +"All this pains me more than I can tell you," declared the old man. "The +more so, too, that Gabrielle should have allowed her jealousy to lead +her to make such false charges." + +"Yes. In order not to pain you. I have hesitated to tell you this for +several weeks. But I really thought that you ought at least to know the +truth, and who originated the scandal. And so I have ventured to-day to +speak openly, and to announce my departure," said the wily Flockart. He +was putting to the test the strength of his position in that household. +He had an ulterior motive, one that was ingenious and subtle. + +"But you are not really going?" exclaimed the other. "You told me the +other day something about my factor Macdonald, and your suspicions of +certain irregularities." + +"My dear Sir Henry, it will be far better for us both if I leave. To +remain will only be to lend further colour to these scandalous rumours. +I have decided to leave your house." + +"You believe that Macdonald is dishonest, eh?" inquired the afflicted +man quickly. + +"Yes, I'm certain of it. Remember, Sir Henry, that when one is dealing +with a man who is blind, it is sometimes a great temptation to be +dishonest." + +"I know, I know," sighed the other deeply. They were at a bend in the +drive where the big trees met overhead, forming a leafy tunnel. The +ascent was a trifle steep, and the Baronet had paused for a few seconds, +leaning heavily upon the arm of his friend. + +"Oh, pardon me!" exclaimed Flockart suddenly, releasing his arm. "Your +watch-chain is hanging down. Let me put it right for you." And for a few +seconds he fumbled at the chain, at the same time holding something in +the palm of his left hand. "There, that's right," he said a few minutes +later. "You caught it somewhere, I expect." + +"On one of the knobs of my writing-table perhaps," said the other. +"Thanks. I sometimes inadvertently pull it out of my pocket." + +A faint smile of triumph passed across the dark, handsome face of the +man, who again took his arm, as at the same time he replaced something +in his own jacket-pocket. He had in that instant secured what he wanted. + +"You were saying with much truth, my dear Flockart, that in dealing with +a man who cannot see there is occasionally a temptation towards +dishonesty. Well, this very day I intend to have a long chat with my +wife, but before I do so will you promise me one thing?" + +"And what is that?" asked the man, not without some apprehension. + +"That you will remain here, disregard the gossip that you may have +heard, and continue to assist me in my helplessness in making full and +searching inquiry into Macdonald's alleged defalcations." + +The man reflected for a few seconds, with knit brows. His quick wits +were instantly at work, for he saw with the utmost satisfaction that he +had been entirely successful in disarming all suspicion; therefore his +next move must be the defeat of that man's devoted defender, Gabrielle, +the one person who stood between his own penniless self and fortune. + +"I really cannot at this moment make any promise, Sir Henry," he +remarked at last. "I have decided to go." + +"But defer your decision for the present. There is surely no immediate +hurry for your departure! First let me consult my wife," urged the +Baronet, putting out his hand and groping for that of Flockart, which he +pressed warmly as proof of his continued esteem. "Let me talk to +Winifred. She shall decide whether you go or whether you shall stay." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +SHOWS A GIRL'S BONDAGE + + +Walter Murie had chosen politics as a profession long ago, even when he +was an undergraduate. He had already eaten his dinners in London, and +had been called to the Bar as the first step towards a political career. +He had a relative in the Foreign Office, while his uncle had held an +Under-Secretaryship in the late Government. Therefore he had influence, +and hoped by its aid to secure some safe seat. Already he had studied +both home and foreign affairs very closely, and had on two occasions +written articles in the _Times_ upon that most vexed and difficult +question, the pacification of Macedonia. He was a very fair speaker, +too, and on several occasions he had seconded resolutions and made quite +clever speeches at political gatherings in his own county, Perthshire. +Indeed, politics was his hobby; and, with money at his command and +influence in high quarters, there was no reason why he should not within +the next few years gain a seat in the House. With Sir Henry Heyburn he +often had long and serious chats. The brilliant politician, whose career +had so suddenly and tragically been cut short, gave him much good +advice, pointing out the special questions he should study in order to +become an authority. This is the age of specialising, and in politics it +is just as essential to be a specialist as it is in the medical, legal, +or any other profession. + +In a few days the young man was returning to his dingy chambers in the +Temple, to pore again over those mouldy tomes of law; therefore almost +daily he ran over to Glencardine to chat with the blind Baronet, and to +have quiet walks with the sweet girl who looked so dainty in her fresh +white frocks, and whose warm kisses were so soft and caressing. + +Surely no pair, even in the bygone days of knight and dame, the days of +real romance, were more devoted to each other. With satisfaction he saw +that Gabrielle's apparent indifference had now worn off. It had been but +the mask of a woman's whim, and as such he treated it. + +One afternoon, after tea out on the lawn, they were walking together by +the bypath to the lodge in order to meet Lady Heyburn, who had gone into +the village to visit a bedridden old lady. Hand-in-hand they were +strolling, for on the morrow he was going south, and would probably be +absent for some months. + +The girl had allowed herself to remain in her lover's arms in one long +kiss of perfect ecstasy. Then, with a sigh of regret, she had held his +hand and gone forward again without a word. When Walter had left, the +sun of her young life would have set, for after all it was not exactly +exciting to be the eyes and ears of a man who was blind. And there was +always at her side that man whom she hated, and who, she knew, was her +bitterest foe--James Flockart. + +Of late her father seemed to have taken him strangely into his +confidence. Why, she could not tell. A sudden change of front on the +Baronet's part was unusual; but as she watched with sinking heart she +could not conceal from herself the fact that Flockart now exercised +considerable influence over her father--an influence which in some +matters had already proved to be greater than her own. + +It was of this man Walter spoke. "I have a regret, dearest--nay, more +than a regret, a fear--in leaving you here alone," he exclaimed in a +low, distinct voice, gazing into the blue, fathomless depths of those +eyes so very dear to him. + +"A fear! Why?" she asked in some surprise, returning his look. + +"Because of that man--your mother's friend," he said. "Recently I have +heard some curious tales concerning him. I really wonder why Sir Henry +still retains him as his guest." + +"Why need we speak of him?" she exclaimed quickly, for the subject was +distasteful. + +"Because I wish you to be forewarned," he said in a serious voice. "That +man is no fitting companion for you. His past is too well known to a +certain circle." + +"His past!" she echoed. "What have you discovered concerning him?" + +Her companion did not answer for a few moments. How could he tell her +all that he had heard? His desire was to warn her, yet he could not +relate to her the allegations made by certain persons against Flockart. + +"Gabrielle," he said, "all that I have heard tends to show that his +friendship for you and for your father is false; therefore avoid +him--beware of him." + +"I--I know," she faltered, lowering her eyes. "I've felt that was the +case all along, yet I----" + +"Yet what?" he asked. + +"I mean I want you to promise me one thing, Walter," she said quickly. +"You love me, do you not?" + +"Love you, my own darling! How can you ask such a question? You surely +know that I do!" + +"Then, if you really love me, you will make me a promise." + +"Of what?" + +"Only one thing--one little thing," she said in a low, earnest voice, +looking straight into his eyes. "If--if that man ever makes an +allegation against me, you won't believe him?" + +"An allegation! Why, darling, what allegation could such a man ever make +against you?" + +"He is my enemy," she remarked simply. + +"I know that. But what charge could he bring against you? Why, if even +he dared to utter a single word against you, I--I'd wring the ruffian's +neck!" + +"But if he did, Walter, you wouldn't believe him, would you?" + +"Of course I wouldn't." + +"Not--not if the charge he made against me was a terrible one--a--a +disgraceful one?" she asked in a strained voice after a brief and +painful pause. + +"Why, dearest!" he cried, "what is the matter? You are really not +yourself to-day. You seem to be filled with a graver apprehension even +than I am. What does it mean? Tell me." + +"It means, Walter, that that man is Lady Heyburn's friend; hence he is +my enemy." + +"And what need you fear when you have me as your friend?" + +"I do not fear if you will still remain my friend--always--in face of +any allegation he makes." + +"I love you, darling. Surely that's sufficient guarantee of my +friendship?" + +"Yes," she responded, raising her white, troubled face to his while he +bent and kissed her again on the lips. "I know that I am yours, my own +well-beloved; and, as yours, I will not fear." + +"That's right!" he exclaimed, endeavouring to smile. "Cheer up. I don't +like to see you on this last day down-hearted and apprehensive like +this." + +"I am not so without cause." + +"Then, what is the cause?" he demanded. "Surely you can repose +confidence in me?" + +Again she was silent. Above them the wind stirred the leaves, and +through the high bracken a rabbit scuttled at their feet. They were +alone, and she stood again locked in her lover's fond embrace. + +"You have told me yourself that man Flockart is my enemy," she said in a +low voice. + +"But what action of his can you fear? Surely you should be forearmed +against any evil he may be plotting. Tell me the truth, and I will go +myself to your father and denounce the fellow before his face!" + +"Ah, no!" she cried, full of quick apprehension. "Never think of doing +that, Walter!" + +"Why? Am I not your friend?" + +"Such a course would only bring his wrath down upon my head. He would +retaliate quickly, and I alone would suffer." + +"But, my dear Gabrielle," he exclaimed, "you really speak in enigmas. +Whatever can you fear from a man who is known to be a blackguard--whom I +could now, at this very moment, expose in such a manner that he would +never dare to set foot in Perthshire again?" + +"Such a course would be most injudicious, I assure you. His ruin would +mean--it would mean--my--own!" + +"I don't follow you." + +"Ah, because you do not know my secret--you----" + +"Your secret!" the young man gasped, staring at her, yet still holding +her trembling form in his strong arms. "Why, what do you mean? What +secret?" + +"I--I cannot tell you!" she exclaimed in a hard, mechanical voice, +looking straight before her. + +"But you must," he protested. + +"I--I asked you, Walter, to make me a promise," she said, her voice +broken by emotion--"a promise that, for the sake of the love you bear +for me, you will not believe that man, that you will disregard any +allegation against me." + +"And I promise, on one condition, darling--that you tell me in +confidence what I, as your future husband, have a just right to +know--the nature of this secret of yours." + +"Ah, no!" she cried, unable longer to restrain her tears, and burying +her pale, beautiful face upon his arm. "I--I was foolish to have spoken +of it," she sobbed brokenly: "I ought to have kept it to myself. It +is--it's the one thing that I can never reveal to you--to you of all +men!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +DESCRIBES A FRENCHMAN'S VISIT + + +"Monsieur Goslin, Sir Henry," Hill announced, entering his master's room +one morning a fortnight later, just as the blind man was about to +descend to breakfast. "He's in the library, sir." + +"Goslin!" exclaimed the Baronet, in great surprise. "I'll go to him at +once; and Hill, serve breakfast for two in the library, and tell Miss +Gabrielle that I do not wish to be disturbed this morning." + +"Very well, Sir Henry;" and the man bowed and went down the broad oak +staircase. + +"Goslin here, without any announcement!" exclaimed the Baronet, speaking +to himself. "Something must have happened. I wonder what it can be." He +tugged at his collar to render it more comfortable; and then, with a +groping hand on the broad balustrade, he felt his way down the stairs +and along the corridor to the big library, where a stout, grey-haired +Frenchman came forward to greet him warmly, after carefully closing the +door. + +"Ah, _mon cher ami_!" he began; and, speaking in French, he inquired +eagerly after the Baronet's health. He was rather long-faced, with beard +worn short and pointed, and his dark, deep-set eyes and his countenance +showed a fund of good humour. "This visit is quite unexpected," +exclaimed Sir Henry. "You were not due till the 20th." + +"No; but circumstances have arisen which made my journey imperative, so +I left the Gare du Nord at four yesterday afternoon, was at Charing +Cross at eleven, had half-an-hour to catch the Scotch express at King's +Cross, and here I am." + +"Oh, my dear Goslin, you always move so quickly! You're simply a marvel +of alertness." + +The other smiled, and, with a shrug of the shoulders, said, "I really +don't know why I should have earned a reputation as a rapid traveller, +except, perhaps, by that trip I made last year, from Paris to +Constantinople, when I remained exactly thirty-eight minutes in the +Sultan's capital. But I did my business there, nevertheless, even though +I got through quicker than _messieurs les touristes_ of the most +estimable Agence Cook." + +"You want a wash, eh?" + +"Ah, no, my friend. I washed at the hotel in Perth, where I took my +morning coffee. When I come to Scotland I carry no baggage save my +tooth-brush in my pocket, and a clean collar across my chest, its ends +held by my braces." + +The Baronet laughed heartily. His friend was always most resourceful and +ingenious. He was a mystery to all at Glencardine, and to Lady Heyburn +most of all. His visits were always unexpected, while as to who he +really was, or whence he came, nobody--not even Gabrielle herself--knew. +At times the Frenchman would take his meals alone with Sir Henry in the +library, while at others he would lunch with her ladyship and her +guests. On these latter occasions he proved himself a most amusing +cosmopolitan, and at the same time exhibited an extreme courtliness +towards every one. His manner was quite charming, yet his presence there +was always puzzling, and had given rise to considerable speculation. + +Hill came in, and after helping the Frenchman to take off his heavy +leather-lined travelling-coat, laid a small table for two and prepared +breakfast. + +Then, when he had served it and left, Goslin rose, and, crossing to the +door, pushed the little brass bolt into its socket. Returning to his +chair opposite the blind man (whose food Hill had already cut up for +him), he exclaimed in a very calm, serious voice, speaking in French, "I +want you to hear what I have to say, Sir Henry, without exciting +yourself unduly. Something has occurred--something very strange and +remarkable." + +The other dropped his knife, and sat statuesque and expressionless. "Go +on," he said hoarsely. "Tell me the worst at once." + +"The worst has not yet happened. It is that which I'm dreading." + +"Well, what has happened? Is--is the secret out?" + +"The secret is safe--for the present." + +The blind man drew a long breath. "Well, that's one thing to be thankful +for," he gasped. "I was afraid you were going to tell me that the facts +were exposed." + +"They may yet be exposed," the mysterious visitor exclaimed. "That's +where lies the danger." + +"We have been betrayed, eh? You may as well admit the ugly truth at +once, Goslin!" + +"I do not conceal it, Sir Henry. We have." + +"By whom?" + +"By somebody here--in this house." + +"Here! What do you mean? Somebody in my own house?" + +"Yes. The Greek affair is known. They have been put upon their guard in +Athens." + +"By whom?" cried the Baronet, starting from his chair. + +"By somebody whom we cannot trace--somebody who must have had access to +your papers." + +"No one has had access to my papers. I always take good care of that, +Goslin--very good care of that. The affair has leaked out at your end, +not at mine." + +"At our end we are always circumspect," the Frenchman said calmly. "Rest +assured that nobody but we ourselves are aware of our operations or +intentions. We know only too well that any revelation would assuredly +bring upon us--disaster." + +"But a revelation has actually been made!" exclaimed Sir Henry, bending +forward. "Therefore the worst is to be feared." + +"Exactly. That is what I am endeavouring to convey." + +"The betrayal must have come from your end, I expect; not from here." + +"I regret to assert that it came from here--from this very room." + +"How do you know that?" + +"Because in Athens they have a complete copy of one of the documents +which you showed me on the last occasion I was here, and which we have +never had in our possession." + +The blind man was silent. The allegation admitted of no argument. + +"My daughter Gabrielle is the only person who has seen it, and she +understands nothing of our affairs, as you know quite well." + +"She may have copied it." + +"My daughter would never betray me, Goslin," said Sir Henry in a hard, +distinct voice, rising from the table and slowly walking down the long, +book-lined room. + +"Has no one else been able to open your safe and examine its contents?" +asked the Frenchman, glancing over to the small steel door let into the +wall close to where he was sitting. + +"No one. Though I'm blind, do you consider me a fool? Surely I recognise +only too well how essential is secrecy. Have I not always taken the most +extraordinary precautions?" + +"You have, Sir Henry. I quite admit that. Indeed, the precautions you've +taken would, if known to the world, be regarded--well, as simply +amazing." + +"I hope the world will never know the truth." + +"It will know the truth. They have the copies in Athens. If there is a +traitor--as we have now proved the existence of one--then we can never +in future rest secure. At any moment another exposure may result, with +its attendant disaster." + +The Baronet halted before one of the long windows, the morning sunshine +falling full upon his sad, grey face. He drew a long sigh and said, +"Goslin, do not let us discuss the future. Tell me exactly what is the +present situation." + +"The present situation," the Frenchman said in a dry, matter-of-fact +voice, "is one full of peril for us. You have, over there in your safe, +a certain paper--a confidential report which you received direct from +Vienna. It was brought to you by special messenger because its nature +was not such as should be sent through the post. A trusted official of +the Austrian Ministry of Foreign Affairs brought it here. To whom did he +deliver it?" + +"To Gabrielle. She signed a receipt." + +"And she broke the seals?" + +"No. I was present, and she handed it to me. I broke the seals myself. +She read it over to me." + +"Ah!" ejaculated the Frenchman suspiciously. "It is unfortunate that you +are compelled to entrust our secrets to a woman." + +"My daughter is my best friend; indeed, perhaps my only friend." + +"Then you have enemies?" + +"Who has not?" + +"True. We all of us have enemies," replied the mysterious visitor. "But +in this case, how do you account for that report falling into the hands +of the people in Athens? Who keeps the key of the safe?" + +"I do. It is never out of my possession." + +"At night what do you do with it?" + +"I hide it in a secret place in my room, and I sleep with the door +locked." + +"Then, as far as you are aware, nobody has ever had possession of your +key--not even mademoiselle your daughter?" + +"Not even Gabrielle. I always lock and unlock the safe myself." + +"But she has access to its contents when it is open," the visitor +remarked. "Acting as your secretary, she is, of course, aware of a good +deal of your business." + +"No; you are mistaken. Have we not arranged a code in order to prevent +her from satisfying her woman's natural inquisitiveness?" + +"That's admitted. But the document in question, though somewhat guarded, +is sufficiently plain to any one acquainted with the nature of our +negotiations." + +The blind man crossed to the safe, and with the key upon his chain +opened it, and, after fumbling in one of the long iron drawers revealed +within, took out a big oblong envelope, orange-coloured, and secured +with five black seals, now, however, broken. + +This he handed to his friend, saying, "Read it again, to refresh your +memory. I know myself what it says pretty well by heart." + +Monsieur Goslin drew forth the paper within and read the lines of close, +even writing. It was in German. He stood near the window as he read, +while Sir Henry remained near the open safe. + +Hill tapped at the bolted door, but his master replied that he did not +wish to be disturbed. "Yes," the Frenchman said at last, "the copy they +have in Athens is exact--word for word." + +"They may have obtained it from Vienna." + +"No; it came from here. There are some pencilled comments in your +daughter's handwriting." + +"They were dictated by me." + +"Exactly. And they appear in the copy now in the hands of the people in +Athens! Thus it is doubly proved that it was this actual document which +was copied. But by whom?" + +"Ah!" sighed the helpless man, his face drawn and paler than usual, +"Gabrielle is the only person who has had sight of it." + +"Mademoiselle surely could not have copied it," remarked the Frenchman. +"Has she a lover?" + +"Yes; the son of a neighbour of mine, a very worthy young fellow." + +Goslin grunted dubiously. It was apparent that he suspected her of +trickery. Information such as had been supplied to the Greek Government +would, he knew, be paid for, and at a high price. Had mademoiselle's +lover had a hand in that revelation? + +"I would not suggest for a single moment, Sir Henry, that mademoiselle +your daughter would act in any way against your personal interests; +but--" + +"But what?" demanded the blind man fiercely, turning towards his +visitor. + +"Well, it is peculiar--very peculiar--to say the least." + +Sir Henry was silent. Within himself he was compelled to admit that +certain suspicion attached to Gabrielle. And yet was she not his most +devoted--nay, his only--friend? "Some one has copied the report--that's +evident," he said in a low, hard voice, reflecting deeply. + +"And by so doing has placed us in a position of grave peril, Sir +Henry--imminent peril," remarked the visitor. "I see in this an attempt +to obtain further knowledge of our affairs. We have a secret enemy, who, +it seems, has found a vulnerable point in our armour." + +"Surely my own daughter cannot be my enemy?" cried the blind man in +dismay. + +"You say she has a lover," remarked the Frenchman, speaking slowly and +with deliberation. "May not he be the instigator?" + +"Walter Murie is upright and honourable," replied the blind man. "And +yet--" A long-drawn sigh prevented the conclusion of that sentence. + +"Ah, I know!" exclaimed the mysterious visitor in a tone of sympathy. +"You are uncertain in your conclusions because of your terrible +affliction. Sometimes, alas! my dear friend, you are imposed upon, +because you are blind." + +"Yes," responded the other, bitterly. "That is the truth, Goslin. +Because I cannot see like other men, I have been deceived--foully and +grossly deceived and betrayed! But--but," he cried, "they thought to +ruin me, and I've tricked them, Goslin--yes, tricked them! Have no fear. +For the present our secrets are our own!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +REVEALS THE SPY + + +The Twelfth--the glorious Twelfth--had come and gone. "The rush to the +North" had commenced from London. From Euston, St. Pancras, and King's +Cross the night trains for Scotland had run in triplicate, crowded by +men and gun-cases and kit-bags, while gloomy old Perth station was a +scene of unwonted activity each morning. + +At Glencardine there were little or no grouse; therefore it was not +until later that Sir Henry invited his usual party. + +Gabrielle had been south to visit one of her girlfriends near Durham, +and the week of her absence her afflicted father had spent in dark +loneliness, for Flockart had gone to London, and her ladyship was away +on a fortnight's visit to the Pelhams, down at New Galloway. + +On the last day of August, however, Gabrielle returned, being followed a +few hours later by Lady Heyburn, who had travelled up by way of Stirling +and Crieff Junction, while that same night eight men forming the +shooting-party arrived by the day express from the south. + +The gathering was a merry one. The guests were the same who came up +there every year, some of them friends of Sir Henry in the days of his +brilliant career, others friends of his wife. The shooting at +Glencardine was always excellent; and Stewart, wise and serious, had +prophesied first-class sport. + +Walter Murie was in London. While Gabrielle had been at Durham he had +travelled up there, spent the night at the "Three Tuns," and met her +next morning in that pretty wooded walk they call "the Banks." Devoted +to her as he was, he could not bear any long separation; while she, on +her part, was gratified by this attention. Not without some difficulty +did she succeed in getting away from her friends to meet him, for a +provincial town is not like London, and any stranger is always in the +public eye. But they spent a delightful couple of hours together, +strolling along the footpath through the meadows in the direction of +Finchale Priory. There were no eavesdroppers; and he, with his arm +linked in hers, repeated the story of his all-conquering love. + +She listened in silence, then raising her fine clear eyes to his, said, +"I know, Walter--I know that you love me. And I love you also." + +"Ah," he sighed, "if you would only be frank with me, dearest--if you +would only be as frank with me as I am with you!" + +Sadly she shook her head, but made no reply. He saw that a shadow had +clouded her brow, that she still clung to her strange secret; and at +length, when they retraced their steps back to the city, he reluctantly +took leave of her, and half-an-hour later was speeding south again +towards York and King's Cross. + +The opening day of the partridge season proved bright and pleasant. The +men were out early; and the ladies, a gay party, including Gabrielle, +joined them at luncheon spread on a mossy bank about three miles from +the castle. Several of the male guests were particularly attentive to +the dainty, sweet-faced girl whose charming manner and fresh beauty +attracted them. But Gabrielle's heart was with Walter always. She loved +him. Yes, she told herself so a dozen times each day. And yet was not +the barrier between them insurmountable? Ah, if he only knew! If he only +knew! + +The blind man was left alone nearly the whole of that day. His daughter +had wanted to remain with him, but he would not hear of it. "My dear +child," he had said, "you must go out and lunch. You really must assist +your mother in entertaining the people." + +"But, dear dad, I much prefer to remain with you and help you," she +protested. "Yesterday the Professor sent you five more bronze matrices +of ecclesiastical seals. We haven't yet examined them." + +"We'll do so to-night, dear," he said. "You go out to-day. I'll amuse +myself all right. Perhaps I'll go for a little walk." + +Therefore the girl had, against her inclination, joined the +luncheon-party, where foremost of all to have her little attentions was +a rather foppish young stockbroker named Girdlestone, who had been up +there shooting the previous year, and had on that occasion flirted with +her furiously. + +During her absence her father tried to resume his knitting--an +occupation which he had long ago been compelled to resort to in order to +employ his time; but he soon put it down with a sigh, rose, and taking +his soft brown felt-hat and stout stick, tapped his way along through +the great hall and out into the park. + +He felt the warmth upon his cheek as he passed slowly along down the +broad drive. "Ah," he murmured to himself, "if only I could once again +see God's sunlight! If I could only see the greenery of nature and the +face of my darling child!" and he sighed brokenly, and went on, his chin +sunk upon his breast, a despairing, hopeless man. Surely no figure more +pathetic than his could be found in the whole of Scotland. Upon him had +been showered honour, great wealth, all indeed that makes life worth +living, and yet, deprived of sight, he existed in that world of +darkness, deceived and plotted against by all about him. His grey +countenance was hard and thoughtful as he passed slowly along tapping +the ground before him, for he was thinking--ever thinking--of the +declaration of his French visitor. He had been betrayed. But by whom? + +His thoughts were wandering back to those days when he could see--those +well-remembered days when he had held the House in silence by his +brilliant oratory, and when the papers next day had leading articles +concerning his speeches. He recollected his time-mellowed old club in +St. James's Street--Boodle's--of which he had been so fond. Then came +his affliction. The thought of it all struck him suddenly; and, +clenching his hands, he murmured some inarticulate words through his +teeth. They sounded strangely like a threat. Next instant, however, he +laughed bitterly to himself the dry, harsh laugh of a man into whose +very soul the iron had entered. + +In the distance he could hear the shots of his guests, those men who +accepted his hospitality, and who among themselves agreed that he was "a +terrible bore, poor old fellow!" They came up there--with perhaps two +exceptions--to eat his dinners, drink his choice wines, and shoot his +birds, but begrudged him more than ten minutes or so of their company +each day. In the billiard-room of an evening, as he sat upon one of the +long lounges, they would perhaps deign to chat with him; but, alas! he +knew that he was only as a wet blanket to his wife's guests, hence he +kept himself so much to the library--his own domain. + +That night he spent half-an-hour in the billiard-room in order to hear +what sport they had had, but very soon escaped, and with Gabrielle +returned again to the library to fulfil his promise and examine the +seal-matrices which the Professor had sent. + +To where they sat came bursts of boisterous laughter and of the +waltz-music of the pianola in the hall, for in the shooting season the +echoes of the fine mansion were awakened by the merriment of as gay a +crowd as any who assembled in the Highlands. + +Sir Henry heard it. The sounds jarred upon his nerves. Mirth such as +theirs was debarred him for ever, and he had now become gloomy and +misanthropic. He sat fingering those big oval matrices of bronze, +listening to Gabrielle's voice deciphering the inscriptions, and +explaining what was meant and what was possibly their history. One which +Sir Henry declared to be the gem of them all bore the _manus Dei_ for +device, and was the seal of Archbishop Richard (1174-84). Several +documents bearing impressions of this seal were, he said, preserved at +Canterbury and in the British Museum, but here the actual seal itself +had come to light. + +With all the enthusiasm of an expert he lingered over the matrice, +feeling it carefully with the tips of his fingers, and tracing the +device with the nail of his forefinger. "Splendid!" he declared. "The +lettering is a most excellent specimen of early Lombardic." And then he +gave the girl the titles of several works, which she got down from the +shelves, and from which she read extracts after some careful search. + +The sulphur-casts sent with the matrices she placed carefully with her +father's collection, and during the remainder of the evening they were +occupied in replying to several letters regarding estate matters. + +At eleven o'clock she kissed her father good-night and passed out to the +hall, where the pianola was still going, and where the merriment was +still in full swing. For a quarter of an hour she was compelled to +remain with the insipid young ass Bertie Girdlestone, a man who +patronised musical comedy nightly, and afterwards supped regularly at +the "Savoy"; then she escaped at last to her room. + +Exchanging her pretty gown of turquoise chiffon for an easy wrap, she +took up a novel, and, switching on her green-shaded reading-lamp, sat +down to enjoy a quiet hour before retiring. Quickly she became engrossed +in the story, and though the stable-chimes sounded each half-hour she +remained undisturbed by them. + +It was half-past two before she had reached the happy _dénouement_ of +the book, and, closing it, she rose to take off her trinkets. Having +divested herself of bracelets, rings, and necklet, she placed her hands +to her ears. There was only one ear-ring; the other was missing! They +were sapphires, a present from Walter on her last birthday. He had sent +them to her from Yokohama, and she greatly prized them. Therefore, at +risk of being seen in her dressing-gown by any of the male guests who +might still be astir--for she knew they always played billiards until +very late--she took off her little blue satin slippers and stole out +along the corridor and down the broad staircase. + +The place was in darkness; but she turned on the light, and again when +she reached the hall. + +She must have dropped her ear-ring in the library; of that she felt +sure. Servants were so careless that, if she left it, it might easily be +swept up in the morning and lost for ever. That thought had caused her +to search for it at once. + +As she approached the library door she thought she heard the sound as of +some one within. On her opening the door, however, all was in darkness. +She laughed at her apprehension. + +In an instant she touched the switch, and the place became flooded by a +soft, mellow light from lamps cunningly concealed behind the bookcases +against the wall. At the same moment, however, she detected a movement +behind one of the bookcases against which she stood. With sudden +resolution and fearlessness, she stepped forward to ascertain its cause. +Her eyes at that instant fell upon a sight which caused her to start and +stand dumb with amazement. Straight before her the door of her father's +safe stood open. Beside it, startled at the sudden interruption, stood a +man in evening-dress, with a small electric lamp in his clenched hand. A +pair of dark, evil eyes met hers in defiance--the eyes of James +Flockart. + +"You!" she gasped. + +"Yes," he laughed dryly. "Don't be afraid. It's only I. But, by Jove! +how very charming you look in that gown! I'd love to get a snapshot of +you just as you stand now." + +"What are you doing there, examining my father's papers?" she demanded +quickly, her small hands clenched. + +"My dear girl," he replied with affected unconcern, "that's my own +business. You really ought to have been in bed long ago. It isn't +discreet, you know, to be down here with me at this hour!" + +"I demand to know what you are doing here!" she cried firmly. + +"And, my dear little girl, I refuse to tell you," was his decisive +answer. + +"Very well, then I shall alarm the house and explain to my father what I +have discovered." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +SHOWS GABRIELLE DEFIANT + + +Gabrielle crossed quickly to one of the long windows, which she unbolted +and flung open, expecting to hear the shrill whir of the burglar-alarm, +which, every night, Hill switched on before retiring. + +"My dear little girl!" exclaimed the man, smiling as he strolled +leisurely across to her with a cool, perfect unconcern which showed how +completely he was master, "why create such a beastly draught? Nothing +will happen, for I've already seen to those wires." + +"You're a thief!" she cried, drawing herself up angrily. "I shall go +straight to my father and tell him at once." + +"You are at perfect liberty to act exactly as you choose," was +Flockart's answer, as he bowed before her with irritating mock +politeness. "But before you go, pray allow me to finish these most +interesting documents, some of which, I believe, are in your very neat +handwriting." + +"My father's business is his own alone, and you have no right whatever +to pry into it. I thought you were posing as his friend!" she cried in +bitter protest, as she stood with both her hands clenched. + +"I am his friend," he declared. "Some day, Gabrielle, you will know the +truth of how near he is to disaster, and how I am risking much in an +endeavour to save him." + +"I don't believe you!" she exclaimed in undisguised disgust. "In your +heart there is not one single spark of sympathy with him in his +affliction or with me in my ghastly position!" + +"Your position is only your own seeking, my dear child," was his cold +response. "I gave you full warning long ago. You can't deny that." + +"You conspired with Lady Heyburn against me!" she cried. "I have +discovered more about it than you think; and I now openly defy you, Mr. +Flockart. Please understand that." + +"Good!" he replied, still unruffled. "I quite understand. You will +pardon my resuming, won't you?" And walking back to the open safe, he +drew forth a small bundle of papers from a drawer. Then he threw himself +into a leather arm-chair, and proceeded to untie the tape and examine +the documents one by one, as though in eager search of something. + +"Though Lady Heyburn may be your friend, I am quite sure even she would +never for a moment countenance such a dastardly action as this!" cried +the girl, crimsoning in anger. "You come here, accept my father's +hospitality, and make pretence of being his friend and adviser; yet you +are conspiring against him, as you have done against myself!" + +"So far as you yourself are concerned, my dear Gabrielle," he laughed, +without deigning to look up from the papers he was scanning, "I offered +you my friendship, but you refused it." + +"Friendship!" she cried, in sarcasm. "Your friendship, Mr. Flockart! +What, pray, is it worth? You surely know what people are saying--the +construction they are placing upon your friendship for Lady Heyburn?" + +"The misconstruction, you mean," he exclaimed airily, correcting her. +"Well, to me it matters not a single jot. The world is always +ill-disposed and ill-natured. A woman can surely have a male friend +without being subject to hostile and venomous criticism?" + +"When the male friend is an honest man," said the girl meaningly. + +He shrugged his shoulders and continued reading, as though utterly +disregarding her presence. + +What should she do? How should she act? She knew quite well that from +those papers he could gather no knowledge of her father's affairs, +unless he held some secret knowledge of the true meaning of those +cryptic terms and allusions. To her they were all as Hebrew. + +Only that very day Monsieur Goslin had again made one of those +unexpected visits, remaining from eleven in the morning until three; +afterwards taking his leave, and driving back in the car to Auchterarder +Station. She had not seen him; but he had brought from Paris for her a +big box of chocolates tied with violet ribbons, as had been his habit +for quite a couple of years past. She was a particular favourite with +the polite, middle-aged Frenchman. + +Her father's demeanour was always more thoughtful and serious after the +stranger's visits. Business matters put before him by his visitor +always, it seemed, required much deep thought and ample consideration. + +Some papers brought to her father by Goslin she had placed in the safe +earlier that evening, and these, she recognised, were now in Flockart's +hands. She had not read them herself, and had no idea of their contents. +They were, to her, never interesting. + +"Mr. Flockart," she exclaimed very firmly at last, "I ask you to kindly +replace those papers in my father's safe, relock it, and hand me the +key." + +"That I certainly refuse to do," was the man's defiant reply, bowing as +he spoke. + +"You would prefer, then, that I should go up to my father and explain +all I have seen?" + +"I repeat what I have already said. You are perfectly at liberty to tell +whom you like. It makes no difference whatever to me. And, well, I don't +want to be disturbed just now." Rising, he walked across to the +writing-table, and taking a piece of note-paper bearing the Heyburn +crest, rapidly pencilled some memoranda upon it. He was, it seemed, +taking a copy of one of the documents. + +Suddenly she sprang towards him, crying, "Give me that paper! Give it to +me at once, I say! It is my father's." + +He straightened himself from the table, pulled down his white dress-vest +with its amethyst buttons, and, looking straight into her face, ordered +her to leave the room. + +"I shall not go," she answered boldly. "I have discovered a thief in my +father's house; therefore my duty is to remain here." + +"No. Surely your duty is to go upstairs and tell him;" and he bent +again, resuming his rapid memoranda. "Well," he asked defiantly, a few +moments later, seeing that she had not moved, "aren't you going?" + +"I shall not leave you here alone." + +"Don't. I might run away with some of the ornaments." + +"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the girl bitterly, "you taunt me because you are +well aware of my helplessness--of what occurred on that +never-to-be-forgotten afternoon--of how completely you have me in your +power! I see it all. You defy me, well knowing that you could, in a +moment, bring upon me a vengeance terrible and complete. It is all +horrible!" she cried, covering her face with her hands. "I know that I +am in your power. And you have no pity, no remorse." + +"I gave you full warning," he declared, placing the papers upon the +table and looking at her. "I gave you your choice. You cannot blame me. +You had ample time and opportunity." + +"But I still have one man who loves me--a man who will yet stand my +friend and defend me, even against you!" + +"Walter Murie!" he laughed, with a quick gesture of disregard. "You +believe him to be your friend? Recollect, my dear Gabrielle, that men +are deceivers ever." + +"So it seems in your case," she exclaimed with poignant bitterness. "You +have brought scandalous comment upon my father's name, and yet you are +utterly unconcerned." + +"Because, as I have already told you, your father is my friend." + +"And it is his money which you spend so freely," she said, in a low, +hard voice of reproach. "It comes from him." + +"His money!" he exclaimed quickly. "What do you mean? What do you +imply?" + +"Simply that among my father's accounts a short time back I found two +cheques drawn by Lady Heyburn in your favour." + +"And you told your father of them, of course!" he exclaimed with +sarcasm. "A remarkable discovery, eh?" + +"I told him nothing," was her bold reply. "Not because I wished to +shield you, but because I did not wish to pain him unduly. He has +worries sufficient, in all conscience." + +"Your devotion is really most charming," the man declared calmly, +leaning against the table and examining her critically from head to +foot. "Sir Henry believes in you. You are his dutiful daughter--pure, +good, and all that!" he sneered. "I wonder what he would say if +he--well, if he knew just a little of the truth, of what happened that +day at Chantilly?" + +"The truth! Ah, and you would tell him--you!" she gasped in a broken +voice, her sweet, innocent face blanched to the lips in an instant. "You +would drag my good name into the mire, and blast my life for ever with +just as little compunction as you would shoot a rabbit. I know--I know +you only too well, Mr. Flockart! I stand in your way; I am in your way +as well as in Lady Heyburn's. You are only awaiting an opportunity to +wreck my life and crush me! Once I am away from here, my poor father +will be helpless in your hands!" + +"Dear me," he sneered, "how very tragic you are becoming! That +dressing-gown really makes you appear quite like a heroine of provincial +melodrama. I ought now to have a revolver and threaten you, and then +this scene would be complete for the stage--wouldn't it? But for +goodness' sake don't remain here in the cold any longer, my dear little +girl. Run off to bed, and forget that to-night you've been walking in +your sleep." + +"Not until I see that safe relocked and you give me the false key of +yours. If you will not, then you shall this very night have an +opportunity of telling the truth to my father. I am prepared to bear my +shame and all its consequences----" + +The words froze upon her pale lips. On the lawn outside the half-open +glass door there was at that moment a light movement--the tapping of a +walking-stick! + +"Hush!" cried Flockart. "Remember what I can tell him--if I choose!" + +In an instant she saw the fragile figure of her father, in soft felt-hat +and black coat, creeping almost noiselessly past the window. He had been +out for one of his nocturnal walks, for he sometimes went out alone when +suffering from insomnia. He had just returned. + +The blind man went forward only a few paces farther; but, finding that +he had proceeded too far, he returned and discovered the open door. Near +it stood the pair, not daring now to move lest the blind man's quick +ears should detect their footsteps. + +"Gabrielle! Gabrielle, my dear!" exclaimed the Baronet. + +But though her heart beat quickly, the girl did not reply. She knew, +however, that the old man could almost read her innermost thoughts. The +ominous words of Flockart rang in her ears. Yes, he could tell a +terrible and awful truth which must be concealed at all hazards. + +"I felt sure I heard Gabrielle's voice. How curious!" murmured the old +man, as his feet fell noiselessly upon the thick Turkey carpet. +"Gabrielle, dear!" he called. But his daughter stood there breathless +and silent, not daring to move a muscle. Plain it was that while passing +across the lawn outside he heard her voice. He had overheard her +declaration that she was prepared to bear the consequences of her +disgrace. + +Across the room the blind man groped, his hand held before him, as was +his habit. "Strange! Remarkably strange!" he remarked to himself quite +aloud. "I'm never mistaken in Gabrielle's voice. Gabrielle, dear, where +are you? Why don't you speak? It's too late to-night to play practical +jokes." + +Flockart knew that he had left the safe-door open, yet he dared not move +across the room to close it. The sightless man would detect the +slightest movement in that dead silence of the night. With great care he +left the girl's side, and a single stride brought him to the large +writing-table, where he secured the document, together with the +pencilled memoranda of its purport, both of which he slipped into his +pocket unobserved. + +Gabrielle dared not breathe. Her discovery there meant her ruin. + +The man who held her in his toils cast her an evil, threatening glance, +raising his clenched fist in menace, as though daring her to make the +slightest movement. In his dark eyes showed a sinister expression, and +his nether lip was hard. She was, alas! utterly and completely in his +power. + +The safe was some distance away, and in order to reach and close it he +would be compelled to pass the man in blue spectacles now standing, +puzzled and surprised, in the centre of the great book-lined apartment. +Both of them could escape by the open window, but to do so would be to +court discovery should the Baronet find his safe standing open. In that +case the alarm would be raised, and they would both be found outside the +house, instead of within. + +Slowly the old man drew his thin hand across his furrowed brow, and +then, as a sudden recollection dawned upon him, he cried, "Ah, the +window! Why, that's strange! When I went out I closed it! But it was +open--open--as I came in! Some one--some one has entered here in my +absence!" + +With both his thin, wasted hands outstretched, he walked quickly to his +safe, cleverly avoiding the furniture in his course, and next second +discovered that the iron door stood wide open. + +"Thieves!" he gasped aloud hoarsely as the truth dawned upon him. "My +papers! Gabrielle's voice! What can all this mean?" And next moment he +opened the door, crying, "Help!" and endeavouring to alarm the +household. + +In an instant Flockart dashed forward towards the safe, and, without +being observed by Gabrielle, had slipped the key into his own pocket. + +"Gabrielle," cried the blind man, "you are here in the room. I know you +are. You cannot deceive me. I smell that new scent, which your aunt +Annie sent you, upon your handkerchief. Why don't you speak to me?" + +"Yes, dad," she answered at last, in a low, strained voice, "I--I am +here." + +"Then what is meant by my safe being open?" he asked sternly, as all +that Goslin had told him a little while before flashed across his +memory. "Why have you obtained a key to it?" + +"I have no key," was her quick answer. + +"Come here," he said. "Let me take your hand." + +With great reluctance, her eyes fixed upon Flockart's face, she did as +she was bid, and as her father took her soft hand in his, he said in a +stern, harsh tone, full of suspicion and quite unusual to him, "You are +trembling, Gabrielle--trembling, because--because of my unexpected +appearance, eh?" + +The fair girl with the sweet face and dainty figure was silent. What +could she reply? + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +TELLS OF FLOCKART'S TRIUMPH + + +"What are you doing here at this hour?" Gabrielle's father demanded +slowly, releasing her hand. "Why are you prying into my affairs?" He had +not detected Flockart's presence, and believed himself alone with his +daughter. + +The man's glance again met Gabrielle's, and she saw in his eyes a +desperate look. To tell the truth would, she knew, alas! cause the +exposure of her secret and her disgrace. On both sides had she suddenly +become hemmed in by a deadly peril. + +"Dad," she cried suddenly, "do I not know all about your affairs +already? Do I not act as your secretary? With what motive should I open +your safe?" + +Without response, the blind man moved back to the open door, and, +placing his hand within, fingered one of the long iron drawers. It was +unlocked, and he drew it forth. Some papers were within--blue, +legal-looking papers which his daughter had never seen. "Yes," he +exclaimed aloud, "just as I thought. This drawer has been opened, and my +private affairs pried into. Tell me, Gabrielle, where is young Murie +just at present?" + +"In Paris, I believe. He left London unexpectedly three days ago." + +"Paris!" echoed the old man. "Ah," he added, "Goslin was right--quite +right. And so you, my daughter, in whom I placed all my trust--my--my +only friend--have betrayed me!" he added brokenly. + +"I have not betrayed you, dear father," was her quick protest. "To whom +do you allege I have exposed your affairs?" + +"To your lover, Walter." + +To Flockart, whose wits were already at work upon some scheme to +extricate himself, there came at that instant a sudden suggestion. He +spoke, causing the old man to start suddenly and turn in the direction +of the speaker. + +As the words left his lips he raised a threatening finger towards +Gabrielle, a sign of silence to her of which the old man was +unfortunately in ignorance. + +"I think, Sir Henry, that I ought to speak--to tell you the truth, +painful though it may be. Five minutes ago I came down here in order to +get a telegraph-form, as I wanted to send a wire at the earliest +possible moment to-morrow, when, to my surprise, I saw a light beneath +the door. I----" + +"Oh, no, no!" gasped the girl, in horrified protest. "It's a lie!" + +"I crept in quietly, and was very surprised to find Gabrielle with the +safe open, and alone. I had expected that she was sitting up late, +working with you. But she seemed to be examining and reading some papers +she took from a drawer. Forgive me for telling you this, but the truth +must now be made plain. I startled her by my sudden presence; and, +pointing out the dishonour of copying her father's papers, no matter for +what purpose, I compelled her to return the documents to their place. I +fold her frankly that it was my duty, as your friend, to inform you of +the incident; but she implored me, for the sake of her lover, to remain +silent." + +"Mr. Flockart!" cried the girl, "how dare you say such a thing when you +know it to be an untruth; when----" + +"Enough!" exclaimed her father bitterly. "I'm ashamed of you, Gabrielle. +I----" + +"I would beg of you, Sir Henry, not further to distress yourself," +Flockart interrupted. "Love, as you know, often prompts both men and +women to commit acts of supreme folly." + +"Folly!" echoed the blind man. "This is more than folly! Gabrielle and +her lover have conspired to bring about my ruin. I have had suspicions +for several weeks; now, alas! they are confirmed. Walter Murie is in +Paris at this moment in order to make money out of the secret knowledge +which Gabrielle obtains for him. My own daughter is responsible for my +betrayal!" he added, in a voice broken by emotion. + +"No, no, Sir Henry!" urged Flockart. "Surely the outlook is not so black +as you foresee. Gabrielle has acted injudiciously; but surely she is +still devoted to you and your interests." + +"Yes," cried the girl in desperation, "you know I am, dad. You know that +I----" + +"It is useless, Flockart, for you to endeavour to seek forgiveness for +Gabrielle," declared her father in a firm, harsh voice, "Quite useless. +She has even endeavoured to deny the statement you have made--tried to +deny it when I actually heard with my own ears her defiant declaration +that she was prepared to bear her shame and all its consequences! Let +her do so, I say. She shall leave Glencardine to-morrow, and have no +further opportunity to conspire against me." + +"Oh, father, what are you saying?" she cried in despair, bursting into +tears. "I have not conspired." + +"I am saying the truth," went on the blind man. "You and your lover have +formed another clever plot, eh? Because I have not sight to watch you, +you will copy my business reports and send them to Walter Murie, who +hopes to place them in a certain channel where he can receive payment. +This is not the first time my business has leaked out from this room. +Only a short time ago certain confidential documents were offered to the +Greek Government, but fortunately they were false ones prepared on +purpose to trick any one who had designs upon my business secrets." + +"I swear I am in ignorance of it all." + +"Well, I have now told you plainly," the old man said. "I loved you, +Gabrielle, and until this moment foolishly believed that you were +devoted to me and to my interests. I trusted you implicitly, but you +have betrayed me into the hands of my enemies--betrayed me," he wailed, +"in such a manner that only ruin may face me. I tell you the hard and +bitter truth. I am blind, and ever since your return from school you +have acted as my secretary, and I have looked at the world only through +your eyes. Ah," he sighed, "but I ought to have known! I should never +have trusted a woman, even though she be my own daughter." + +The girl stood with her blanched face covered by her hands. To protest, +to declare that Flockart's story was a lie, was, she saw, all to no +purpose. Her father had overheard her bold defiance and had, alas! most +unfortunately taken it as an admission of her guilt. + +Flockart stood motionless but watchful; yet by the few words he uttered +he succeeded in impressing the blind man with the genuineness of his +friendship both for father and for daughter. He urged forgiveness, but +Sir Henry disregarded all his appeals. + +"No," he declared. "It is fortunate indeed, Flockart, that you made this +discovery, and thus placed me upon my guard." The poor deluded man +little dreamt that on the occasion when Flockart had taken him down the +drive to announce his departure from Glencardine on account of the +gossip, and had drawn Sir Henry's attention to his hanging watch-chain, +he had succeeded in cleverly obtaining two impressions of the safe-key +attached. In his excitement, it had never occurred to him to ask his +daughter by what means she had been able to open that steel door. + +"Dad," she faltered, advancing towards him and placing her soft, tender +hand upon his shoulder, "won't you listen to reason? I assure you I am +quite innocent of any attempt or intention to betray you. I know you +have many enemies;" and she glanced quickly in Flockart's direction. +"Have we not often discussed them? Have I not kept eyes and ears open, +and told you of all I have seen and learnt? Have----" + +"You have seen and learnt what is to my detriment," he answered. "All +argument is useless. A fortnight or so ago, by your aid, my enemies +secured a copy of a certain document which has never left yonder safe. +To-night Mr. Flockart has discovered you again tampering with my safe, +and with my own ears I heard you utter defiance. You are more devoted to +your lover than to me, and you are supplying him with copies of my +papers." + +"That is untrue, dad," protested the girl reproachfully. + +But her father shook her hand roughly from his shoulder, saying, "I have +already told you my decision, which is irrevocable. To-morrow you shall +leave Glencardine and go to your aunt Emily at Woodnewton. You won't +have much opportunity for mischief in that dull little Northampton +village. I won't allow you to remain under my roof any longer; you are +too ungrateful and deceitful, knowing as you do the misery of my +affliction." + +"But, father----" + +"Go to your room," he ordered sternly. "Tomorrow I will speak with your +mother, and we shall then decide what shall be done. Only, understand +one thing: in the future you are not my dear daughter that you have been +in the past. I--I have no daughter," he added in a voice harsh yet +broken by emotion, "for you have now proved yourself an enemy worse even +than those who for so many years have taken advantage of my +helplessness." + +"Ah, dad, dad, you are cruel!" she cried, bursting again into a torrent +of tears. "You are too cruel! I have done nothing!" + +"Do you call placing me in peril nothing?" he retorted bitterly. "Go to +your room at once. Remain with me, Flockart. I want to speak to you." + +The girl saw herself convicted by those unfortunate words she had +used--words meant in defiance of her arch-enemy Flockart, but which had +placed her in ignominy and disgrace. Ah, if she could only stand firm +and speak the ghastly truth! But, alas! she dared not. Flockart, the man +who held her in his power, the man whom she knew to be her father's +bitterest opponent, a cheat and a fraud, stood there triumphant, with a +smile upon his lips; while she, pure, honest, and devoted to that +afflicted man, was denounced and outcast. She raised her voice in one +last word of faint protest. + +But her father, angered and grieved, turned fiercely upon her and +ordered her from his presence. "Go," he said, "and do not come near me +again until your boxes are packed and you are ready to leave +Glencardine." + +"You speak as though I were a servant whom you've discharged," she said +bitterly. + +"I am speaking to my enemy, not to my daughter," was his hard response. + +She raised her eyes to Flockart, and saw upon his dark face a hard, +sphinx-like look. What hope of salvation could she ever expect from that +man--the man who long ago had sought to estrange her from her father so +that he might work his own ends? It was upon her tongue to turn upon him +and relate the whole infamous truth. Yet so friendly had the two men +become of late that she feared, even if she did so, that her father +would only see in the revelation an attempt at reprisal. Besides, what +if Flockart spoke? What if he told the awful truth? Her own dear father, +whom she loved so well, even though he had misjudged her, would be +dragged into the mire. No, she was the victim of that man, who was a +past-master of the art of subterfuge; the man who, for years, had lived +by his wits and preyed upon society. + +"Leave us, and go to your room," again commanded her father. + +She looked sadly at the white, bespectacled countenance which she loved +so well. Her soft hand once more sought his; but he cast it from him, +saying, "Enough of your caresses! You are no longer my daughter! Leave +us!" And then, seeing all protest in vain, she sighed, turned very +slowly, and with a last, lingering look upon the helpless man to whom +she had been so devoted, and who now so grossly misjudged her, she +tottered out, closing the door behind her. + +"Has she gone?" asked Sir Henry a moment later. + +Flockart responded in the affirmative, laying his hand upon the shoulder +of his agitated host, and urging him to remain calm. + +"That's all very well, my dear Flockart," he cried; "but you don't know +what she has done. She exposed a week or so ago a most confidential +arrangement with the Greek Government, a revelation which might have +involved me in the loss of over a hundred thousand." + +"Then it's fortunate, perhaps, that I discovered her to-night," replied +his guest. "All this must be very painful to you, Sir Henry." + +"Very. I shall not give her another opportunity to betray me, Flockart, +depend upon that," the elder man said. "My wife warned me against +Gabrielle long ago. I now see that I was a fool for not taking her +advice." + +"Certainly it's a curious fact that Walter Murie is in Paris," remarked +the other. "Was the revelation of your financial dealings made in Paris, +do you know?" + +"Yes, it was," snapped the blind man. "I believed Walter to be quite a +good young fellow." + +"Ah, I knew different, Sir Henry. His life up in London was not--well, +not exactly all that it should be. He's in with a rather shady crowd." + +"You never told me so." + +"Because you did not believe me to be your friend until quite recently. +I hope I have now proved what I have asserted. If I can do anything to +assist you I am only too ready. I assure you that you have only to +command me." + +Sir Henry reflected deeply for a few moments. The discovery that his +daughter was playing him false caused within him a sudden revulsion of +feeling. Unfortunately, he could not see the expression upon the +countenance of his false friend. He was wondering at that moment whether +he might entrust to him a somewhat delicate mission. + +"Gabrielle shall not return here," her father said, as though speaking +to himself. + +"That is a course which I would most strongly advise. Send the girl +away," urged the other. "Evidently she has grossly betrayed you." + +"That I certainly intend doing," was the answer. "But I wonder, +Flockart, if I might take you at your word, and ask you to do me a +favour? I am so helpless, or I would not think of troubling you." + +"Only tell me what you wish, and I will do it with pleasure." + +"Very well, then," replied the blind man. "Perhaps I shall want you to +go to Paris at once, watch the actions of young Murie, and report to me +from time to time. Would you?" + +A look of bright intelligence overspread the man's features as a new +vista opened before him. Sir Henry was about to take him into his +confidence! "Why, with pleasure," he said cheerily. "I'll start +to-morrow, and rest assured that I'll keep a very good eye upon the +young gentleman. You now know the painful truth concerning your +daughter--the truth which Lady Heyburn has told you so often, and which +you have never yet heeded." + +"Yes, Flockart," answered the afflicted man, taking his guest's hand in +warm friendship. "I once disliked you--that I admit; but you were quite +frank the other day, and now to-night you have succeeded in making a +discovery that, though it has upset me terribly, may mean my salvation." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THROUGH THE MISTS + + +Sir Henry refused to speak with his daughter when, on the following +morning, she stole in and laid her hand softly upon his arm. He ordered +her, in a tone quite unusual, to leave the library. Through the morning +hours she had lain awake trying to make a resolve. But, alas! she dared +not tell the truth; she was in deadly fear of Flockart's reprisals. + +That morning, at nine o'clock, Lady Heyburn and Flockart had held +hurried consultation in secret, at which he had explained to her what +had occurred. + +"Excellent!" she had remarked briefly. "But we must now have a care, my +dear friend. Mind the girl does not throw all prudence to the winds and +turn upon us." + +"Bah!" he laughed, "I don't fear that for a single second." And he left +the room again, to salute her in the breakfast-room a quarter of an hour +later as though they had not met before that day. + +Gabrielle, on leaving her father, went out for a long walk alone, away +over the heather-clad hills. For hours she went on--Jock, her Aberdeen +terrier, toddling at her side, in her hand a stout ash-stick--regardless +of the muddy roads or the wet weather. It was grey, damp, and dismal, +one of those days which in the Highlands are often so very cheerless and +dispiriting. Yet on, and still on, she went, her mind full of the events +of the previous night; full, also, of the dread secret which prevented +her from exposing her father's false friend. In order to save her +father, should she sacrifice herself--sacrifice her own life? That was +the one problem before her. + +She saw nothing; she heeded nothing. Hunger or fatigue troubled her not. +Indeed, she took no notice of where her footsteps led her. Beyond Crieff +she wandered, along the river-bank a short distance, ascending a hill, +where a wild and wonderful view spread before her. There she sat down +upon a big boulder to rest. + +Her hair blown by the chill wind, she sat staring straight before her, +thinking--ever thinking. She had not seen Lady Heyburn that day. She had +seen no one. + +At six o'clock that morning she had written a long letter to Walter +Murie. She had not mentioned the midnight incident, but she had, with +many expressions of regret, pointed out the futility of any further +affection between them. She had not attempted to excuse herself. She +merely told him that she considered herself unworthy of his love, and +because of that, and that alone, she had decided to break off their +engagement. + +A dozen times she had reread the letter after she had completed it. +Surely it was the letter of a heart-broken and desperate woman. Would he +take it in the spirit in which it was meant, she wondered. She loved +him--ah, loved him better than any one else in all the world! But she +now saw that it was useless to masquerade any longer. The blow had +fallen, and it had crushed her. She was powerless to resist, powerless +to deny the false charge against her, powerless to tell the truth. + +That letter, which she knew must come as a cruel blow to Walter, she had +given to the postman with her own hands, and it was now on its way +south. As she sat on the summit of that heather-clad hill she was +wondering what effect her written words would have upon him. He had +loved her so devotedly ever since they had been children together! Well +she knew how strong was his passion for her, how his life was at her +disposal. She knew that on reading those despairing lines of hers he +would be staggered. She recalled the dear face of her soul-mate, his hot +kisses, his soft terms of endearment, and alone there, with none to +witness her bitter grief, she burst into a flood of tears. + +The sad greyness of the landscape was in keeping with her own great +sorrow. She had lost all that was dear to her; and, young as she was, +with hardly any experience of the world and its ways, she was already +the victim of grim circumstance, broken by the grief of a self-renounced +love gnawing at her true heart. + +The knowledge that Lady Heyburn and Flockart would exult over her +downfall and exile to that tiny house in a sleepy little +Northamptonshire village did not trouble her. Her enemies had triumphed. +She had played the game and lost, just as she might have lost at +billiards or at bridge, for she was a thorough sportswoman. She only +grieved because she saw the grave peril of her dear father, and because +she now foresaw the utter hopelessness of her own happiness. + +It was better, she reflected, far better, that she should go into the +dull and dreary exile of an English village, with the unexciting +companionship of Aunt Emily, an ascetic spinster of the mid-Victorian +era, and make pretence of pique with Walter, than to reveal to him the +shameful truth. He would at least in those circumstances retain of her a +recollection fond and tender. He would not despise nor hate her, as he +most certainly would do if he knew the real astounding facts. + +How long she remained there, high up, with the chill winds of autumn +tossing her silky, light-brown hair, she knew not. Rainclouds were +gathering, and the rugged hill before her was now hidden behind a bank +of mist. Time had crept on without her heeding it, for what did time now +matter to her? What, indeed, did anything matter? Her young life, though +she was still in her teens, had ended; or, at least, as far as she was +concerned it had. Was she not calmly and coolly contemplating telling +the truth and putting an end to her existence after saving her father's +honour? + +Her sad, tearful eyes gazed slowly about her as she suddenly awakened to +the fact that she was far--very far--from home. She had been dazed, +unconscious of everything, because of the heavy burden of grief within +her heart. But now she looked forth upon the small, grey loch, with its +dark fringe of trees, the grey and purple hills beyond, the grey sky, +and the grey, filmy mists that hung everywhere. The world was, indeed, +sad and gloomy, and even Jock sat looking up at his young mistress as +though regarding her grief in wonder. + +Now and then distant shots came from across the hills. They were +shooting over the Drummond estate, she knew, for she had had an +invitation to join their luncheon-party that day. Lady Heyburn and +Flockart had no doubt gone. + +That, she told herself, was her last day in the Highlands, that +picturesque, breezy country she loved so well. It was her last day amid +those familiar places where she and Walter had so often wandered +together, and where he had told her of his passionate devotion. Well, +perhaps it was best, after all. Down south she would not be reminded of +him every moment and at every turn. No, she sighed within herself as she +rose to descend the hill, she must steel herself against her own sad +reflections. She must learn how to forget. + +"What will he say?" she murmured aloud as she went down, with Jock +frisking and barking before her. "What will he think of me when he gets +my letter? He will believe me fickle; he will believe that I have +another lover. That is certain. Well, I must allow him to believe it. We +have parted, and we must now, alas! remain apart for ever. Probably he +will seek from my father the truth concerning my disappearance from +Glencardine. Dad will tell him, no doubt. And then--then, what will he +believe? He--he will know that I am unworthy to be his wife. Yet--yet is +it not cruel that I dare not speak the truth and clear myself of this +foul charge of betraying my own dear father? Was ever a girl placed in +such a position as myself, I wonder. Has any girl ever loved a man +better than I love Walter?" Her white lips were set hard, and her fine +eyes became again bedimmed by tears. + +It commenced to rain, that fine drizzle so often experienced north of +the Tweed. But she heeded not. She was used to it. To get wet through +was, to her, quite a frequent occurrence when out fishing. Though there +was no path, she knew her way; and, walking through the wet heather, she +came after half-an-hour out upon a muddy byroad which led her into the +town of Crieff, whence her return was easy; though it was already dusk, +and the dressing-bell had gone, before she re-entered the house by the +servants' door and slipped unobserved up to her own room. + +Elise found her seated in her blue gown before the welcome fire-log, her +chin upon her breast. Her excuse was that she felt unwell; therefore one +of the maids brought her some dinner on a tray. + +Upon the mantelshelf were many photographs, some of them snap-shots of +her schoolfellows and souvenirs of holidays, the odds and ends of +portraits and scenes which every girl unconsciously collects. + +Among them, in a plain silver frame, was the picture of Walter Murie +taken in New York only a few weeks before. Upon the frame was engraved, +"Gabrielle, from Walter." She took it in her hand, and stood for a long +time motionless. Never again, alas! would she look upon that face so +dear to her. Her young heart was already broken, because she was held +fettered and powerless. + +At last she put down the portrait, and, sinking into her chair, sat +crying bitterly. Now that she was outcast by her father, to whom she had +been always such a close, devoted friend, her life was an absolute +blank. At one blow she had lost both lover and father. Already Elise had +told her that she had received instructions to pack her trunks. The +thin-nosed Frenchwoman was apparently much puzzled at the order which +Lady Heyburn had given her, and had asked the girl whom she intended to +visit. The maid had asked what dresses she would require; but Gabrielle +replied that she might pack what she liked for a long visit. The girl +could hear Elise moving about, shaking out skirts, in the adjoining +room, and making preparations for her departure on the morrow. + +Despondent, hopeless, grief-stricken, she sat before the fire for a long +time. She had locked the door and switched off the light, for it +irritated her. She loved the uncertain light of dancing flames, and sat +huddled there in her big chair for the last time. + +She was reflecting upon her own brief life. Scarcely out of the +schoolroom, she had lived most of her days up in that dear old place +where every inch of the big estate was so familiar to her. She +remembered all those happy days at school, first in England, and then in +France, with the kind-faced Sisters in their spotless head-dresses, and +the quiet, happy life of the convent. The calm, grave face of Sister +Marguerite looked down upon her from the mantelshelf as if sympathising +with her pretty pupil in those troubles that had so early come to her. +She raised her eyes, and saw the portrait. Its sight aroused within her +a new thought and fresh recollection. Had not Sister Marguerite always +taught her to beseech the Almighty's aid when in doubt or when in +trouble? Those grave, solemn words of the Mother Superior rang in her +ears, and she fell upon her knees beside her narrow bed in the alcove, +and with murmuring lips prayed for divine support and assistance. She +raised her sweet, troubled face to heaven and made confession to her +Maker. + +Then, after a long silence, she struggled again to her feet, more cool +and more collected. She took up Walter's portrait, and, kissing it, put +it away carefully in a drawer. Some of her little treasures she gathered +together and placed with it, preparatory to departure, for she would on +the morrow leave Glencardine perhaps for ever. + +The stable-clock had struck ten. To where she stood came the strident +sounds of the mechanical piano-player, for some of the gay party were +waltzing in the hall. Their merry shouts and laughter were discordant to +her ears. What cared any of those friends of her step-mother if she were +in disgrace and an outcast? + +Drawing aside the curtain, she saw that the night was bright and +starlit. She preferred the air out in the park to the sounds of gaiety +within that house which was no longer to be her home. Therefore she +slipped on a skirt and blouse, and, throwing her golf-cape across her +shoulders and a shawl over her head, she crept past the room wherein +Elise was packing her belongings, and down the back-stairs to the lawn. + +The sound of the laughter of the men and women of the shooting-party +aroused a poignant bitterness within her. As she passed across the drive +she saw a light in the library, where, no doubt, her father was sitting +in his loneliness, feeling and examining his collection of +seal-impressions. + +She turned, and, walking straight on, struck the gravelled path which +took her to the castle ruins. + +Not until the black, ponderous walls rose before her did she awaken to a +consciousness of her whereabouts. Then, entering the ruined courtyard, +she halted and listened. All was dark. Above, the stars twinkled +brightly, and in the ivy the night-birds stirred the leaves. Holding her +breath, she strained her ears. Yes, she was not deceived! There were +sounds distinct and undeniable. She was fascinated, listening again to +those shadow-voices that were always precursory of death--the fatal +Whispers. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +BY THE MEDITERRANEAN + + +It was February--not the foggy, muddy February of dear, damp Old +England, but winter beside the bright blue Mediterranean, the winter of +the Côte d'Azur. + +At the Villa Heyburn--that big, square, white house with the green +sun-shutters, surrounded by its great garden full of spreading palms, +sweet-smelling mimosa, orange-trees laden with golden fruit, and bright +geraniums, up on the Berigo at San Remo--Lady Heyburn had that afternoon +given a big luncheon-party. The smartest people wintering in that most +sheltered nook of the Italian Riviera had eaten and gossiped and +flirted, and gone back to their villas and hotels. Dull persons found no +place in Lady Heyburn's circle. Most of the people were those she knew +in London or in Paris, including a sprinkling of cosmopolitans, a +Russian prince notorious for his losses over at the new _cercle_ at +Cannes, a divorced Austrian Archduchess, and two or three well-known +diplomats. + +"Dear old Henry" remained, of course, at Glencardine, as he always did. +Lady Heyburn looked upon her winter visit to that beautiful villa +overlooking the calm sapphire sea as her annual emancipation. Henry was +a dear old fellow, she openly confided to her friends, but his +affliction made him terribly trying. + +But Jimmy Flockart, the good-looking, amusing, well-dressed idler, was +living down at the "Savoy," and was daily in her company, driving, +motoring, picnicking, making excursions in the mountains, or taking +trips over to "Monte" by the _train-de-luxe_. He had left the villa +early in the afternoon, returned to his hotel, changed his smart +flannels for a tweed suit, and, taking a stout stick, had set off alone +for his daily constitutional along the sea-road in the direction of that +pretty but half-deserted little watering-place, Ospedaletti. + +Straight before him, into the unruffled, tideless sea, the sun was +sinking in all its blood-red glory as he went at swinging pace along the +white, dusty road, past the _octroi_ barrier, and out into the country +where, on the left, the waves lazily lapped the grey rocks, while upon +the right the fertile slopes were covered with carnations and violets +growing for the markets of Paris and London. In the air was a delightful +perfume, the freshness of the sea in combination with the sweetness of +the flowers. + +A big red motor-car dashed suddenly round a corner, raising a cloud of +dust. An American party were on their way from Genoa to the frontier +along the Corniche, one of the most picturesque routes in all the world. + +James Flockart had no eyes for beauty. He was too occupied by certain +grave apprehensions. That morning he had walked in the garden with Lady +Heyburn, and had a long chat with her. Her attitude had been peculiar. +He could not make her out. She had begged him to promise to leave San +Remo, and when asked to tell the reason of this sudden demand she had +firmly refused. + +"You must leave here, Jimmy," she had said quite calmly. "Go down to +Rome, to Palermo, to Ragusa, or somewhere where you can put in a month +or so in comfort. The Villa Igiea at Palermo would suit you quite +well--lots of smart people, and very decent cooking." + +"Well," he laughed, "as far as hotels go, nothing could be worse than +this place. I'd never put my nose into this hole if it were not for the +fact that you come here. There isn't a hotel worth the name. When one +goes to Monte, or Cannes, or even decaying Nice, one can get decent +cooking. But here--ugh!" and he shrugged his shoulders. "Price higher +than the 'Ritz' in Paris, food fourth-rate, rooms cheaply decorated, and +a dullness unequalled." + +"My dear Jimmy," laughed her ladyship, "you're such a cosmopolitan that +you're incorrigible. I know you don't like this place. You've been here +six weeks, so go." + +"You've had a letter from the old man, eh?" + +"Yes, I have," she replied, and he saw that her countenance changed; but +she would say nothing more. She had decided that he must leave San Remo, +and would hear no argument to the contrary. + +The southern sun sank slowly into the sea, now grey but waveless. On the +horizon lay the long smoke-trail of a passing steamer eastward bound. He +had rounded the steep, rocky headland, and in the hollow before him +nestled the little village of Ospedaletti, with its closed casino, its +rows of small villas, and its palm-lined _passeggiata_. + +A hundred yards farther on he saw the figure of a rather shabby, +middle-aged man, in a faded grey overcoat and grey soft felt-hat of the +mode usual on the Riviera, but discoloured by long wear, leaning upon +the low sea-wall and smoking a cigarette. No other person was in the +vicinity, and it was quickly evident from the manner in which the +wayfarer recognised him and came forward to meet him with outstretched +hand that they had met by appointment. Short of stature as he was, with +fair hair, colourless eyes, and a fair moustache, his slouching +appearance was that of one who had seen better days, even though there +still remained about him a vestige of dandyism. The close observer +would, however, detect that his clothes, shabby though they were, were +of foreign cut, and that his greeting was of that demonstrative +character that betrayed his foreign birth. + +"Well, my dear Krail," exclaimed Flockart, after they had shaken hands +and stood together leaning upon the sea-wall, "you got my wire in +Huntingdon? I was uncertain whether you were at the 'George' or at the +'Fountain,' so I sent a message to both." + +"I was at the 'George,' and left an hour after receipt of your wire." + +"Well, tell me what has happened. How are things up at Glencardine?" + +"Goslin is with the old fellow. He has taken the girl's place as his +confidential secretary," was the shabby man's reply, speaking with a +foreign accent. "Walter Murie was at home for Christmas, but went to +Cairo." + +"And how are matters in Paris?" + +"They are working hard, but it's an uphill pull. The old man is a crafty +old bird. Those papers you got from the safe had been cunningly prepared +for anybody who sought to obtain information. The consequence is that +we've shown our hand, and heavily handicapped ourselves thereby." + +"You told me all that when you were down here a month ago," Flockart +said impatiently. + +"You didn't believe me then. You do now, I suppose?" + +"I've never denied it," Flockart declared, offering the stranger a +Russian cigarette from his gold case. "I was completely misled, and by +the girl also." + +"The girl's influence with her father is happily quite at an end," +remarked the shabby man. "I saw her last week in Woodnewton. The change +from Glencardine to an eight-roomed cottage in a village street must be +rather severe." + +"Only what she deserves," snapped Flockart. "She defied us." + +"Granted. But I cannot help thinking that we haven't played a very fair +game," said the man. "Remember, she's only a girl." + +"But dangerous to us and to our plans, my dear Krail. She knows a lot." + +"Because--well, forgive me for saying so, my dear Flockart--because +you've been a fool, and have allowed her to know." + +"It wasn't I; it was the woman." + +"Lady Heyburn! Why, I always believed her to be the soul of discretion." + +"She's been too defiant of consequences. A dozen times I've warned her; +but she will not heed." + +"Then she'll land herself in a deep hole if she isn't careful," replied +the foreigner, speaking very fair English. "Does she know I'm here?" + +"Of course not. If we're to play the game she must know nothing. She's +already inclined to throw prudence to the winds, and to confess all to +her husband." + +"Confess!" gasped the stranger, paling beneath his rather sallow skin. +"_Per Bacco!_ she's not going to be such an idiot, surely?" + +"We were run so close, and so narrowly escaped discovery after I got at +those papers at Glencardine, that she seems to have lost heart," +Flockart remarked. + +"But if she acted the fool and told Sir Henry, it would mean ruin for +us, and that would also mean----" + +"It would mean exposure for Gabrielle," interrupted Flockart. "The old +man dare not lift his voice for his daughter's sake." + +"Ah," exclaimed Krail, "that's just where you've acted injudiciously! +You've set him against her; therefore he wouldn't spare her." + +"It was imperative. I couldn't afford to be found prying into the old +man's papers, could I? I got impressions of his key while walking in the +park one day. He's never suspected it." + +"Of course not. He believes in you," laughed his friend, "as one of the +few upright men who are his friends! But," he added, "you've done wrong, +my dear fellow, to trust a woman with a secret. Depend upon it, her +ladyship will let you down." + +"Well, if she does," remarked Flockart, with a shrug of the shoulders, +"she'll have to suffer with me. You know where we should all find +ourselves." + +The man pulled a wry face and puffed at his cigarette in silence. + +"What does the girl do?" asked Flockart a few moments later. + +"Well, she seems to have a pretty dull time with the old lady. I stayed +at the 'Cardigan Arms' at Woodnewton for two days--a miserable little +place--and watched her pretty closely. She's out a good deal, rambling +alone across the country with a collie belonging to a neighbouring +farmer. She's the very picture of sadness, poor little girl!" + +"You seem to sympathise with her, Krail. Why, does she not stand between +us and fortune?" + +"She'll stand between us and a court of assize if that woman acts the +fool!" declared the shabby stranger, who moved so rapidly and whose +vigilance seemed unequalled. + +"If we go, she shall go also," Flockart declared in a threatening voice. + +"But you must prevent such a _contretemps_," Krail urged. + +"Ah, it's all very well to talk like that! But you know enough of her +ladyship to be aware that she acts on her own initiative." + +"That shows that she's no fool," remarked the foreigner quickly. "You +who hold her in the hollow of your hand must prevent her from opening up +to her husband. The whole future lies with you." + +"And what is the future without money? We want a few thousands for +immediate necessities, both of us. The woman's allowance from her +husband is nowadays a mere bagatelle." + +"Because he probably knows that some of her money has gone into your +pockets, my dear boy." + +"No; he's completely in ignorance of that. How, indeed, could he know? +She takes very good care there's no possibility of his finding out." + +"Well," remarked the stranger, "that's what I fear has happened, or may +one day happen. The fact is, _caro mio_, we are in a quandary at the +present moment. You were a bit too confident in dealing with those +documents you found at Glencardine. You should have taken her ladyship +into your confidence and got her to pump her husband concerning them. If +you had, we shouldn't have made the mess of it that we have done." + +"I must admit, Krail, that what you say is true," declared the +well-dressed man. "You are such a philosopher always! I asked you to +come here in secret to explain the exact position." + +"It is one of peril. We are checkmated. Goslin holds the whole position +in his hands, and will keep it." + +"Very fortunately for you he doesn't, though we were very near exposure +when I went out to Athens and made a fool of myself upon the report +furnished by you." + +"I believed it to be a genuine one. I had no idea that the old man was +so crafty." + +"Exactly. And if he displayed such clever ingenuity and forethought in +laying a trap for the inquisitive, is it not more than likely that there +may be other traps baited with equal craft and cunning?" + +"Then how are we to make the _coup_?" Flockart asked, looking into the +colourless eyes of his friend. + +"We shall, I fear, never make it, unless----" + +"Unless what?" he asked. + +"Unless the old man meets with an accident," replied the other, in a +low, distinct voice. "_Blind men sometimes do, you know!_" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +WHICH SHOWS A SHABBY FOREIGNER + + +Felix Krail, his cigarette held half-way to his lips, stood watching the +effect of his insinuation. He saw a faint smile playing about Flockart's +lips, and knew that it appealed to him. Old Sir Henry Heyburn had laid a +clever trap for him, a trap into which he himself believed that his +daughter had fallen. Why should not Flockart retaliate? + +The shabby stranger, whose own ingenuity and double-dealing were little +short of marvellous, and under whose watchful vigilance the Heyburn +household had been ever since her ladyship and her friend Flockart had +gone south, stood silent, but in complete satisfaction. + +The well-dressed Riviera-lounger--the man so well known at all the +various gay resorts from Ventimiglia along to Cannes, and who was a +member of the Fêtes Committee at San Remo and at Nice--merely exchanged +glances with his friend and smiled. Quickly, however, he changed the +topic of conversation. "And what's occurring in Paris?" + +"Ah, there we have the puzzle!" replied the man Krail, his accent being +an unfamiliar one--so unfamiliar, indeed, that those unacquainted with +the truth were always placed in doubt regarding his true nationality. + +"But you've made inquiry?" asked his friend quickly. + +"Of course; but the business is kept far too close. Every precaution is +taken to prevent anything leaking out," Krail responded. + +"The clerks will speak, won't they?" the other said. + +"_Mon cher ami_, they know no more of the business of the mysterious +firm of which the blind Baronet is the head than we do ourselves," said +Krail. + +"They make enormous financial deals, that's very certain." + +"Not deals--but _coups_ for themselves," he laughed, correcting +Flockart. "Recollect what I discovered in Athens, and the extraordinary +connection you found in Brussels." + +"Ah, yes. You mean that clever crowd--four men and two women who were +working the gambling concession from the Dutch Government!" exclaimed +Flockart. "Yes, that was a complete mystery. They sent wires in cipher +to Sir Henry at Glencardine. I managed to get a glance at one of them, +and it was signed 'Metaforos.'" + +"That's their Paris cable address," said his companion. + +"Surely you, with your network of sources of information, and your own +genius for discovering secrets, ought to be able to reveal the true +nature of Sir Henry's business. Is it an honest one?" asked Flockart. + +"I think not." + +"Think! Why, my dear Felix, this isn't like you only to think; you +always _know_. You're so certain of your facts that I've always banked +upon them." + +The other gave his shoulders a shrug of indecision. "It was not a +judicious move on your part to get rid of the girl from Glencardine," he +said slowly. "While she was there we had a chance of getting at some +clue. But now old Goslin has taken her place we may just as well abandon +investigation at that end." + +"You've failed, Krail, and attribute your failure to me," protested his +companion. "How could I risk being ignominiously kicked out of +Glencardine as a spy?" + +"Whatever attitude you might have taken would have had the same result. +We used the information, and found ourselves fooled--tricked by a very +crafty old man, who actually prepared those documents in case he was +betrayed." + +"Admitted," said Flockart. "But even though we made fools of ourselves +in Athens, and caused the Greek Government to look upon us as rogues and +liars, the girl is suspected; and I for one don't mean to give in before +we've secured a nice, snug little sum." + +"How are we to do it?" + +"By obtaining knowledge of the game being played in Paris, and working +in an opposite direction," Flockart replied. "We are agreed upon one +point: that for the past few years, ever since Goslin came on the scene, +Sir Henry's business--a big one, there is no doubt--has been of a +mysterious and therefore shady character. By his confidence in +Gabrielle, his care that nobody ever got a chance inside that safe, his +regular consultations with Goslin (who travelled from Paris specially to +see him), his constant telegrams in cipher, and his refusal to allow +even his wife to obtain the slightest inkling into his private affairs, +it is shown that he fears exposure. Do you agree?" + +"Most certainly I do." + +"Well, any man who is in dread of the truth becoming known must be +carrying on some negotiations the reverse of creditable. He is the +moving spirit of that shady house, without a doubt," declared Flockart, +who had so often grasped the blind man's hand in friendship. "In such +fear that his transactions should become known, and that exposure might +result, he actually had prepared documents on purpose to mislead those +who pried into his affairs. Therefore, the instant we discover the +truth, fortune will be at our hand. We all want money, you, I, and Lady +Heyburn--and money we'll have." + +"With these sentiments, my dear friend, I entirely and absolutely +agree," remarked the shabby man, lighting a fresh cigarette. "But one +fact you seem to have entirely overlooked." + +"What?" + +"The girl. She stands between you, and she might come back into the old +man's favour, you know." + +"And even though she did, that makes no difference," Flockart answered +defiantly. + +"Why?" + +"Because she dare not say a single word against me." + +Krail looked him straight in the face with considerable surprise, but +made no comment. + +"She knows better," Flockart added. + +"Never believe too much in your own power with a woman, _mon cher ami_," +remarked the other dubiously. "She's young, therefore of a romantic turn +of mind. She's in love, remember, which makes matters much worse for +us." + +"Why?" + +"Because, being in love, she may become seized with a sentimental fit. +This ends generally in a determination of self-sacrifice; and in such +case she would tell the truth in defiance of you, and would be heedless +of her own danger." + +Flockart drew a long breath. What this man said was, he knew within his +own heart, only too true of the girl towards whom they had been so cruel +and so unscrupulous. His had been a lifelong scheme, and as part of his +scheme in conjunction with the woman who was Sir Henry's wife, it had +been unfortunately compulsory to sacrifice the girl who was the blind +man's right hand. + +Yes, Gabrielle was deeply in love with Walter Murie--the man upon whom +Sir Henry now looked as his enemy, and who would have exposed him to the +Greek Government if the blind man had not been too clever. The Baronet, +after his daughter's confession, naturally attributed her curiosity to +Walter's initiative, the more especially that Walter had been in Paris, +and, it was believed, in Athens also. + +The pair were, however, now separated. Krail, in pursuit of his diligent +inquiries, had actually been in Woodnewton, and seen the lonely little +figure, sad and dejected, taking long rambles accompanied only by a +farmer's sheep-dog. Young Murie had not been there; nor did the pair now +correspond. This much Krail had himself discovered. + +The problem placed before Flockart by his shabby friend was a somewhat +disconcerting one. On the one hand, Lady Heyburn had urged him to leave +the Riviera, without giving him any reason, and on the other, he had the +ever-present danger of Gabrielle, in a sudden fit of sentimental +self-sacrifice, "giving him away." If she did, what then? The mere +suggestion caused him to bite his nether lip. + +Krail knew a good deal, but he did not know all. Perhaps it was as well +that he did not. There is a code of honour among adventurers all the +world over; but few of them can resist the practice of blackmail when +they chance to fall upon evil days. + +"Yes," Flockart said reflectively, as at Krail's suggestion they turned +and began to descend the steep hill towards Ospedaletti, "perhaps it's a +pity, after all, that the girl left Glencardine. Yet surely she's safer +with her aunt?" + +"She was driven from Glencardine!" + +"By her father." + +"You sacrificed her in order to save yourself. That was but natural. +It's a pity, however, you didn't take my advice." + +"I suggested it to Lady Heyburn. But she would have nothing to do with +it. She declared that such a course was far too dangerous." + +"Dangerous!" echoed the shabby man. "Surely it could not have placed +either of you in any greater danger than you are in already?" + +"She didn't like it." + +"Few people do," laughed the other. "But, depend upon it, it's the only +way. She wouldn't, at any rate, have had an opportunity of telling the +truth." + +Flockart pulled a wry face, and after a silence of a few moments said, +"Don't let us discuss that. We fully considered all the pros and cons, +at the time." + +"Her ladyship is growing scrupulously honest of late," sneered his +companion. "She'll try to get rid of you very soon, I expect." + +The latter sentence was more full of meaning than the speaker dreamed. +The words, falling upon Flockart's ears, caused him to wince. Was her +ladyship really trying to rid herself of his influence? He laughed +within himself at the thought of her endeavouring to release herself +from the bond. For her he had never, at any moment, entertained either +admiration or affection. Their association had always been purely one of +business--business, be it said, in which he made the profits and she the +losses. + +"It would hardly be an easy matter for her," replied the easy-going, +audacious adventurer. + +"She seems to be very popular up at Glencardine," remarked the +foreigner, "because she's extravagant and spends money in the +neighbourhood, I suppose. But the people in Auchterarder village +criticise her treatment of Gabrielle. They hear gossip from the +servants, I expect." + +"They should know of the girl's treatment of her stepmother," exclaimed +Flockart. "But there, villagers are always prone to listen to and +embroider any stories concerning the private life of the gentry. It's +just the same in Scotland as in any other country in the world." + +"Ah!" continued Flockart, "in Scotland the old families are gradually +decaying, and their estates are falling into the hands of blatant +parvenus. Counter-jumpers stalk deer nowadays, and city clerks on their +holidays shoot over peers' preserves. The humble Scot sees it all with +regret, because he has no real liking for this latter-day invasion by +the newly-rich English. Cotton-spinners from Lancashire buy +deer-forests, and soap-boilers from Limehouse purchase castles with +family portraits and ghosts complete." + +"Ah! speaking of the supernatural," exclaimed Krail suddenly, "do you +know I had a most extraordinary and weird experience when at Glencardine +about three weeks ago. I actually heard the Whispers!" + +Flockart stared hard at the man at his side, and, laughing outright, +said, "Well, that's the best joke I've heard to-day. You, of all men, to +be taken in by a mere superstition." + +"But, my dear friend, I heard them," said Krail. "I swear I actually +heard them! And I--well, I admit to you, even though you may laugh at me +for being a superstitious fool--I somehow anticipate that something +uncanny is about to happen to me." + +"You're going to die, like all the rest of them, I suppose," laughed his +friend, as they descended the dusty, winding road that led to the +palm-lined promenade of the quiet little Mediterranean watering-place. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +"WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK" + + +On their left were several white villas, before which pink and scarlet +geraniums ran riot, with spreading mimosas golden with their feathery +blossom, for Ospedaletti makes a frantic, if vain, bid for popularity as +a winter-resort. Its deadly dullness, however, is too well known to the +habitué of the Riviera; and its casino, which never obtained a licence, +imparts to it the air of painful effort at gaiety. + +"Well," remarked the shabby man as they passed along and out upon the +sea-road in the direction of Bordighera, "I always looked upon what the +people at Auchterarder said regarding the Whispers as a mere myth. But +now, having heard them with my own ears, how can I have further doubt?" + +"I've listened in the Castle ruins a good many times, my dear Krail," +replied the other, "but I've never heard anything more exciting than an +owl. Indeed, Lady Heyburn and I, when there was so much gossip about the +strange noises some two years ago, set to work to investigate. We went +there at least a dozen times, but without result; only both of us caught +bad colds." + +"Well," exclaimed Krail, "I used to ridicule the weird stories I heard +in the village about the Devil's Whisper, and all that. But by mere +chance I happened to be at the spot one bright night, and I heard +distinct whisperings, just as had been described to me. They gave me a +very creepy feeling, I can assure you." + +"Bosh! Now, do you believe in ghosts, you man-of-the-world that you are, +my dear Felix?" + +"No. Most decidedly I don't." + +"Then what you've heard is only in imagination, depend upon it. The +supernatural doesn't exist in Glencardine, that's quite certain," +declared Flockart. "The fact is that there's so much tradition and +legendary lore connected with the old place, and its early owners were +such a set of bold and defiant robbers, that for generations the +peasantry have held it in awe. Hence all sorts of weird and terrible +stories have been invented and handed down, until the present age +believes them to be based upon fact." + +"But, my dear friend, I actually heard the Whispers--heard them with my +own ears," Krail asserted. "I happened to be about the place that night, +trying to get a peep into the library, where Goslin and the old man +were, I believe, busy at work. But the blinds fitted too closely, so +that I couldn't see inside. The keeper and his men were, I knew, down in +the village; therefore I took a stroll towards the ruins, and, as it was +a beautiful night, I sat down in the courtyard to have a smoke. Then, of +a sudden, I heard low voices quite distinctly. They startled me, for not +until they fell upon my ears did I recall the stories told to me weeks +before." + +"If Stewart or any of the under-keepers had found you prowling about the +Castle grounds at that hour they might have asked you awkward +questions," remarked Flockart. + +"Oh," laughed the other, "they all know me as a visitor to the village +fond of walking exercise. I took very good care that they should all +know me, so that as few explanations as possible would be necessary. As +you well know, the secret of all my successes is that I never leave +anything to chance." + +"To go peeping about outside the house and trying to took in at lighted +windows sounds a rather injudicious proceeding," his companion declared. + +"Not if proper precautions are taken, as I took them. I was weeks in +that terribly dull Scotch village, but nobody suspected my real mission. +I made quite a large circle of friends at the 'Star,' who all believed +me to be a foreign ornithologist writing a book upon the birds of +Scotland. Trust me to tell people a good story." + +"Well," exclaimed Flockart, after a long silence, "those Whispers are +certainly a mystery, more especially if you've actually heard them. On +two or three occasions I've spoken to Sir Henry about them. He ridicules +the idea, yet he admitted to me one evening that the voices had really +been heard. I declared that the most remarkable fact was the sudden +death of each person who had listened and heard them. It is a curious +phenomenon, which certainly should be investigated." + +"The inference is that I, having listened to the ghostly voices, am +doomed to a sudden and violent end," remarked the shabby stranger quite +gloomily. + +Flockart laughed. "Really, Felix, this is too funny!" he said. "Fancy +your taking notice of such old wives' fables! Why, my dear fellow, +you've got many years of constant activity before you yet. You must +return to Paris in the morning, and watch in patience." + +"I have watched, but discovered nothing." + +"Perhaps I'll come and assist you; most probably I shall." + +"No, don't! As soon as you leave San Remo Sir Henry will know, and he +might suspect." + +"Suspect what?" + +"That you are in search of the truth, and of fortune in consequence." + +"He believes in me. Only the other day I had a letter from him written +in Goslin's hand, repeating the confidence he reposes in me." + +"Exactly. You must remain down here for the present." + +Flockart recollected the puzzling decision of Lady Heyburn, and remained +silent. + +"Our chief peril is still the one which has faced us all along," went on +the man in the grey hat--"the peril that the girl may tell about that +awkward affair at Chantilly." + +"She dare not," Flockart assured him quickly. + +Krail shook his head dubiously. "She's leading a lonely life. Her heart +is broken, and she believes herself, as every other young girl does, to +be without a future. Therefore, she's brooding over it. One never knows +in such cases when a girl may fling all prudence to the winds," he said. +"If she did, then nothing could save us." + +"That's just what her ladyship said the other day," answered Flockart, +tossing away his cigarette. "But you don't know that I hold her +irrevocably. She dare not say a single word. If she dare, why did she +not tell the truth about the safe?" + +"Probably because it was all too sudden. She now finds life in that +dismal little village intolerable. She's a girl of spirit, you know, and +has always been used to luxury and freedom. To live with an old woman in +a country cottage away from all her friends must be maddening. No, my +dear James, in this you've acted most injudiciously. You were devoid of +your usual foresight. Depend upon it, a very serious danger threatens. +She will speak." + +"I tell you she dare not. Rest your mind assured." + +"She will." + +"_She shall not!_" + +"How, pray, can you close her mouth?" asked the foreigner. + +Flockart's eyes met his. In them was a curious expression, almost a +glitter. + +Krail understood. He shrugged his shoulders, but uttered no word. His +gesture was, however, that of one unconvinced. Adventurer as he was, +ingenious and unscrupulous, he lived from hand to mouth. Sometimes he +made a big _coup_ and placed himself in funds. But following such an +event he was open-handed and generous to his friends, extravagant in his +expenditure; and very soon found himself under the necessity to exercise +his wits in order to obtain the next louis. He had known Flockart for +years as one of his own class. They had first met long ago on board a +Castle liner homeward bound from Capetown, where both found themselves +playing a crooked game. A friendship begotten of dishonesty had sprung +up between them, and in consequence they had thrown in their lot +together more than once with considerable financial advantage. + +The present affair was, however, not much to Krail's liking, and this he +had more than once told his friend. It was quite possible that if they +could discover the mysterious source of this blind man's wealth they +might, by judiciously levying blackmail through a third party, secure a +very handsome income which he was to share with Flockart and her +ladyship. + +The last-named Krail had always admitted to be one of the cleverest +women he had ever met. His only surprise had been that she, as Sir +Henry's wife, was unable to get at the facts which were so cleverly +withheld. It only showed, however, that the Baronet, though deprived of +eyesight, was even more clever than the unscrupulous woman he had so +foolishly married. + +Krail held Lady Heyburn in distinct distrust. He had once had dealings +with her which had turned out the reverse of satisfactory. Instinctively +he knew that, in order to save herself, if exposure ever came, she would +"give him away" without the least compunction. + +What had puzzled him for several years, and what, indeed, had puzzled +other people, was the reason of the close friendship between Flockart +and the Baronet's wife. It was certainly not affection. He knew Flockart +intimately, and had knowledge of his private affairs; therefore he was +well aware of the existence of an unknown and rather insignificant woman +to whom he was in secret devoted. + +No; the bond between the pair was an entirely mysterious one. He knew +that on more than one occasion, when Flockart's demands for money had +been a little too frequent, she had resisted and attempted to withdraw +from further association with him. Yet by a single word, or even a look, +he could compel her to disgorge the funds he needed, for she had even +handed him some of her trinkets to pawn until she could obtain further +funds from Sir Henry to redeem them. + +As they walked together along the white Corniche Road, their faces set +towards the gorgeous southern afterglow, while the waves lapped lazily +on the grey rocks, all these puzzling thoughts recurred to Krail. + +"Lady Heyburn seems still to remain your very devoted friend," he +remarked at last with a meaning smile. "I see from the _New York Herald_ +what pleasant parties she gives, and how she is the heart and soul of +social merriment in San Remo. By Jove, James! you're a lucky man to +possess such a popular hostess as friend." + +"Yes," laughed Flockart, "Winnie is a regular pal. Without her I should +have been broken long ago. But she's always ready to help me along." + +"People have already remarked upon your remarkable friendship," said his +friend, "and many ill-natured allegations have been made." + +"Oh, yes, I'm quite well aware of that, my dear fellow. It has pained me +more than enough. You yourself know that, as far as affection goes, I've +never in my life entertained a spark of it for Winnie. We were children +together, and have been friends always." + +"Quite so!" exclaimed Krail, smiling. "That's a pretty good story to +tell the world. But there's a point where mere friendship must break, +you know." + +"What do you mean?" asked the other, glancing at him in surprise. + +"Well, the story you tell other people may be picturesque and romantic, +but with me it's just a trifle weak. Lady Heyburn doesn't give her +pearls to be pawned, out of mere friendship, you know." + +Flockart was silent. He knew too well that the man walking at his side +was as clever an intriguer and as bold an adventurer as had ever moved +up and down Europe "working the game" in search of pigeons to pluck. His +shabbiness was assumed. He had alighted at Bordighera station from the +_rapide_ from Paris, spent the night at a third-rate hotel in order not +to be recognised at the Angst or any of the smarter houses, and had met +him by appointment to explain the present situation. His remarks, +however, were the reverse of reassuring. What did he suspect? + +"I don't quite follow you, Krail," Flockart said. + +"I meant to imply that if friendship only links you with Lady Heyburn, +the chain may quite easily snap," he remarked. + +He looked at his friend, much puzzled. He could see no point in that +observation. + +Krail read what was passing in the other's mind, and added, "I know, +_mon cher ami_, that affection from her ladyship is entirely out of the +question. The gossips are liars. And----" + +"Sir Henry himself is quite aware of that. I have already spoken quite +plainly and openly to him, and suggested my departure from Glencardine +on account of ill-natured remarks by her ladyship's enemies. But he +would not hear of my leaving, and pressed me to remain." + +Krail looked at him in blank surprise. "Well," he said, "if you've been +bold enough to do this in face of the gossip, then you're a much +cleverer man than ever I took you to be." + +For answer, Flockart took some letters from his breast-pocket, selected +one written in a foreign hand, and gave it to Krail to read. It was from +the hermit of Glencardine, written at his dictation by Monsieur Goslin, +and was couched in the warmest and most confidential terms. + +"Look here, James," exclaimed the shabby man, handing back the letter, +"I'm going to be perfectly frank with you. Tell me if I speak the truth +or if I lie. It is neither affection nor friendship which links your +life with that woman's. Am I right?" + +Flockart did not answer for some moments. His eyes were cast upon the +ground. "Yes, Krail," he admitted at last when the question had been put +to him a second time--"yes, Krail. You speak the truth. It is neither +affection nor friendship." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +SHOWS GABRIELLE IN EXILE + + +Midway between historic Fotheringhay and ancient Apethorpe, the +ancestral seat of the Earls of Westmorland, lay the long, straggling, +and rather poverty-stricken village of Woodnewton. Like many other +Northamptonshire villages, it consisted of one long street of cottages, +many of them with dormer windows peeping from beneath the brown thatch, +the better houses of stone, with old mullioned windows, but all of them +more or less in stages of decay. With the depreciation in agriculture, +Woodnewton, once quite a prosperous little place, was now terribly +shabby and depressing. + +As he entered the village, the first object that met the eye of the +stranger was a barn with the roof half fallen away, and next it a ruined +house with its moss-grown thatch full of holes. The paving was ill-kept, +and even the several inns bore an appearance of struggles with poverty. + +Half-way up the long, straight, dispiriting street stood a cottage +larger and neater-looking than the rest. Its ugly exterior was +half-hidden by ivy, which had been cut away from the diamond-paned +windows; while, unlike its neighbours, its roof was tiled and its brown +door newly painted and highly varnished. + +Old Miss Heyburn lived there, and had lived there for the past +half-century. The prim, grey-haired, and somewhat eccentric old lady was +a well-known figure to all on that country-side. Twice each Sunday, with +her large-type Prayer-book in her hand, and her steel-rimmed spectacles +on her thin nose, she walked to church, while she was one of the +principal supporters of the village clothing-club and such-like +institutions inaugurated by the worthy rector. + +Essentially an ascetic person, she was looked upon with fear by all the +villagers. Her manner was brusque, her speech sharp, and her criticism +of neglectful mothers caustic and much to the point. Prim, always in +black bonnet and jet-trimmed cape of years gone by, both in summer and +winter, she took no heed of the vagaries of fashion, even when they +reached Woodnewton so tardily. + +The common report was that when a girl she had been "crossed in love," +for her single maidservant she always trained to a sober and loveless +life like her own, and as soon as a girl cast an eye upon a likely swain +she was ignominiously dismissed. + +That the sharp-tongued spinster possessed means was undoubted. It was +known that she was sister of Sir Henry Heyburn of Caistor, in +Lincolnshire; and, on account of her social standing, she on rare +occasions was bidden to the omnium gatherings at some of the mansions in +the neighbourhood. She seldom accepted; but when she did it was only to +satisfy her curiosity and to criticise. + +The household of two, the old lady and her exemplary maid, was assuredly +a dull one. Meals were taken with punctual regularity amid a cleanliness +that was almost painful. The tiny drawing-room, with its row of +window-plants, including a pot of strong-smelling musk, was hardly ever +entered. Not a speck of dust was allowed anywhere, for Miss Emily's eye +was sharp, and woe betide the maid if a mere suspicion of dirt were +discovered! Everything was kept locked up. One maid who resigned +hurriedly, refusing to be criticised, afterwards declared that her +mistress kept the paraffin under lock and key. + +And into this uncomfortably prim and proper household little Gabrielle +had suddenly been introduced. Her heart overburdened by grief, and full +of regret at being compelled to part from the father she so fondly +loved, she had accepted the inevitable, fully realising the dull +greyness of the life that lay before her. Surely her exile there was a +cruel and crushing one! The house seemed so tiny and so suffocating +after the splendid halls and huge rooms at Glencardine, while her aunt's +constant sarcasm about her father--whom she had not seen for eight +years--was particularly galling. + +The woman treated the girl as a wayward child sent there for punishment +and correction. She showed her neither kindness nor consideration; for, +truth to tell, it annoyed her to think that her brother should have +imposed the girl upon her. She hated to be bothered with the girl; but, +existing upon Sir Henry's charity, as she really did, though none knew +it, she could do no otherwise than accept his daughter as her guest. + +Days, weeks, months had passed, each day dragging on as its predecessor, +a wretched, hopeless, despairing existence to a girl so full of life and +vitality as Gabrielle. Though she had written several times to her +father, he had sent her no reply. To her mother at San Remo she had also +written, and from her had received one letter, cold and unresponsive. +From Walter Murie nothing--not a single word. + +The well-thumbed books in the village library she had read, as well as +those in the possession of her aunt. She had tried needlework, problems +of patience, and the translation of a few chapters of an Italian novel +into English in order to occupy her time. But those hours when she was +alone in her little upstairs room with the sloping roof passed, alas! so +very slowly. + +Upon her, ever oppressive, were thoughts of that bitter past. At one +staggering blow she had lost all that had made her young life worth +living--her father's esteem and her lover's love. She was innocent, +entirely innocent, of the terrible allegations against her, and yet she +was so utterly defenceless! + +Often she sat at her little window for hours watching the lethargy of +village life in the street below, that rural life in which the rector +and the schoolmaster were the principal figures. The dullness of it all +was maddening. Her aunt's mid-Victorian primness, her snappishness +towards the trembling maid, and the thousand and one rules of her daily +life irritated her and jarred upon her nerves. + +So, in order to kill time, and at the same time to study the antiquities +of the neighbourhood--her father having taught her so much deep +antiquarian knowledge--it had been her habit for three months past to +take long walks for many miles across the country, accompanied by the +black collie Rover belonging to a young farmer who lived at the end of +the village. The animal had one day attached itself to her while she was +taking a walk on the Apethorpe road; and now, by her feeding him daily +and making a pet of him, the girl and the dog had become inseparable. By +long walks and short train-journeys she had, in three months, been able +to inspect most of the antiquities of Northamptonshire. Much of the +history of the county was intensely interesting: the connection of old +Fotheringhay with the ill-fated Mary Queen of Scots, the beauties of +Peterborough Cathedral, the splendid old Tudor house of Deene (the home +of the Earls of Cardigan), the legends of King John concerning King's +Cliffe, the gaunt splendour of ruined Kirby, and the old-world charm of +Apethorpe. All these, and many others, had great attraction for her. She +read them up in books she ordered from London, and then visited the old +places with all the enthusiasm of a spectacled antiquary. + +Every day, no matter what the weather, she might be seen, in her thick +boots, burberry, and tam o'shanter, trudging along the roads or across +the fields accompanied by the faithful collie. The winter had been a +comparatively mild one, with excessive rain. But no downpour troubled +her. She liked the rain to beat into her face, for the dismal, +monotonous cheerlessness of the brown fields, bare trees, and muddy +roads was in keeping with the tragedy of her own young life. + +She knew that her aunt Emily disliked her. The covert sneers, the +caustic criticisms, and the go-to-meeting attitude of the old lady +irritated the girl beyond measure. She was not wanted in that painfully +prim cottage, and had been made to understand it from the first day. + +Hence it was that she spent all the time she possibly could out of +doors. Alone she had traversed the whole county, seeking permission to +glance at the interior of any old house or building that promised +archaeological interest, and by that means making some curious +friendships. + +Many people regarded the pretty young girl who made a study of old +churches and old houses as somewhat eccentric. Local antiquaries, +however, stared at her in wonder when they found that she was possessed +of knowledge far more profound than theirs, and that she could decipher +old documents and read Latin inscriptions with ease. + +She made few friends, preferring solitude and reflection to visiting and +gossiping. Hers was, indeed, a pathetic little figure, and the +countryfolk used to stare at her in surprise and sigh as she passed +through the various little hamlets and villages so regularly, the black +collie bounding before her. + +Quickly she had become known as "Miss Heyburn's niece," and the report +having spread that she was "a bit eccentric, poor thing," people soon +ceased to wonder, and began to regard that pale, sad face with sympathy. +The whole country-side was wondering why such a pretty young lady had +gone to live in the deadly dullness of Woodnewton, and what was the +cause of that great sorrow written upon her countenance. + +Her daily burden of bitter reflection was, indeed, hard to bear. Her one +thought, as she walked those miles of lonely rural byways, so bare and +cheerless, was of Walter--her Walter--the man who, she knew, would have +willingly given his very life for hers. She had met her just punishment, +and was now endeavouring to bear it bravely. She had renounced his love +for ever. + +One afternoon, dark and rainy, in the gloom of early March, she was +sitting at the old-fashioned and rather tuneless piano in the damp, +unused "best room," which was devoid of fire for economic reasons. Her +aunt was seated in the window busily crocheting, while she, with her +white fingers running across the keys, raised her sweet contralto voice +in that old-world Florentine song that for centuries has been sung by +the populace in the streets of the city by the Arno: + + In questa notte in sogno l'ho veduto + Era vestito tutto di braccato, + Le piume sul berretto di velluto + Ed una spada d'oro aveva allato. + + E poi m'ha detto con un bel sorriso; + Io no, non posso star da te diviso, + Da te diviso non ci posso stare + E torno per mai pin non ti lasciare. + +Miss Heyburn sighed, and looked up from her work. "Can't you sing +something in English, Gabrielle? It would be much better," she remarked +in a snappy tone. + +The girl's mouth hardened slightly at the corners, and she closed the +piano without replying. + +"I don't mean you to stop," exclaimed the ascetic old lady. "I only +think that girls, instead of learning foreign songs, should be able to +sing English ones properly. Won't you sing another?" + +"No," replied the girl, rising. "The rain has ceased, so I shall go for +my walk;" and she left the room to put on her hat and mackintosh, +passing along before the window a few minutes later in the direction of +King's Cliffe. + +It was always the same. If she indulged herself in singing one or other +of those ancient love-songs of the hot-blooded Tuscan peasants her aunt +always scolded. Nothing she did was right, for the simple reason that +she was an unwelcome visitor. + +She was alone. Rover was conducting sheep to Stamford market, as was his +duty every week; therefore in the fading daylight she went along, +immersed in her own sad thoughts. Her walk at that hour was entirely +aimless. She had only gone forth because of the irritation she felt at +her aunt's constant complaints. So entirely engrossed was she by her own +despair that she had not noticed the figure of a man who, catching sight +of her at the end of Woodnewton village, had held back until she had +gone a considerable distance, and had then sauntered leisurely in the +direction she had taken. + +The man kept her in view, but did not approach her. The high, red +mail-cart passed, and the driver touched his hat respectfully to her. +The man who collected the evening mail from all the villages between +Deene and Peterborough met her almost every evening, and had long ago +inquired and learnt who she was. + +For nearly two miles she walked onward, until, close by the junction of +the road which comes down the hill from Nassington, the man who had been +following hastened up and overtook her. + +She heard herself addressed by name, and, turning quickly, found herself +face to face with James Flockart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE VELVET PAW + + +The new-comer stood before Gabrielle, hat in hand, smiling pleasantly +and uttering a greeting of surprise. + +Her response was cold, for was not all her present unhappiness due to +him? + +"I've come here to speak to you, Gabrielle--to speak to you in +confidence." + +"Whatever you have to say may surely be said in the hearing of a third +person?" was her dignified answer. His sudden appearance had startled +her, but only for a moment. She was cool again next instant, and on her +guard against her enemy. + +"I hardly think," he said, with a meaning smile, "that you would really +like me to speak before a third party." + +"I really care nothing," was her answer. "And I cannot see why you seek +me here. When one is hopeless, as I am, one becomes callous of what the +future may bring." + +"Hopeless! Yes," he said in a changed voice, "I know that; living in +this dismal hole, Gabrielle, you must be hopeless. I know that your +exile here, away from all your friends and those you love, must be +soul-killing. Don't think that I have not reflected upon it a hundred +times." + +"Ah, then you have at last experienced remorse!" she cried bitterly, +looking straight into the man's face. "You have estranged me from my +father, and tried to ruin him! You lied to him--lied in order to save +yourself!" + +The man laughed. "My dear child," he exclaimed, "you really misjudge me +entirely. I am here for two reasons: to ask your forgiveness for making +that allegation which was imperative; and, secondly, to assure you that, +if you will allow me, I will yet be your friend." + +"Friend!" she echoed in a hollow voice. "You--my friend!" + +"Yes. I know that you mistrust me," he replied; "but I want to prove +that my intentions towards you are those of real friendship." + +"And you, who ever since my girlhood days have been my worst enemy, ask +me now to trust you!" she exclaimed with indignation. "No; go back to +Lady Heyburn and tell her that I refuse to accept the olive-branch which +you and she hold out to me." + +"My dear girl, you don't follow me," he exclaimed impatiently. "This has +nothing whatever to do with Lady Heyburn. I have come to you from purely +personal motives. My sole desire is to effect your return to +Glencardine." + +"For your own ends, Mr. Flockart, without a doubt!" she said bitterly. + +"Ah! there you are quite mistaken. Though you assert that I am your +father's enemy, I am, I tell you, his friend. He is ever thinking of you +with regret. You were his right hand. Would it not be far better if he +invited you to return?" + +She sighed at the thought of the blind man whom she regarded with such +entire devotion, but answered, "No, I shall never return to +Glencardine." + +"Why?" he asked. "Was it anything more than natural that, believing you +had been prying into his affairs, your father, in a moment of anger, +condemned you to this life of appalling monotony?" + +"No, not more natural than that you, the culprit, should have made me +the scapegoat for the second time," was her defiant reply. + +"Have I not already told you that the reason I'm here is to crave your +forgiveness? I admit that my actions have been the reverse of +honourable; but--well, there were circumstances which compelled me to +act as I did." + +"You got an impression of my father's safe-key, had a duplicate made in +Glasgow, as I have found out, and one night opened the safe and copied +certain private documents having regard to a proposed loan to the Greek +Government. The night I discovered you was the second occasion when you +went to the library and opened the safe. Do you deny that?" + +"What you allege, Gabrielle, is perfectly correct," he replied. "I know +that I was a blackguard to shield myself behind you--to tell the lie I +did that night. But how could I avoid it?" + +"Suppose I had, in retaliation, spoken the truth?" she asked, looking +the man straight in the face. + +"Ah! I knew that you would not do that." + +"You believe that I dare not--dare not for my own sake, eh?" + +He nodded in the affirmative. + +"Then you are much mistaken, Mr. Flockart," she said in a hard voice. +"You don't understand that a woman may become desperate." + +"I can understand how desperate you have become, living in this 'Sleepy +Hollow.' A week of it would, I admit, drive me to distraction." + +"Then if you understand my present position you will know that I am +fearless of you, or of anybody else. My life has ended. I have neither +happiness, comfort, peace of mind, nor love. All is of the past. To +you--you, James Flockart--I am indebted for all this! You have held me +powerless. I was a happy girl once, but you and your dastardly friends +crossed my path like an evil shadow, and I have existed in an inferno of +remorse ever since. I----" + +"Remorse! How absurdly you talk!" + +"It will not be absurd when I speak the truth and tell the world what I +know. It will be rather a serious matter for you, Mr. Flockart." + +"You threaten me, then?" he asked, his eyes flashing for a second. + +"I think it is as well for us to understand one another at once," she +said frankly. + +They had halted upon a small bridge close to the entrance to Apethorpe +village. + +"Then I'm to understand that you refuse my proffered assistance?" he +asked. + +"I require no assistance from my enemies," was her defiant and dignified +reply. "I suppose Lady Heyburn is at the villa at San Remo as usual, and +that it was she who sent you to me, because she recognises that you've +both gone a little too far. You have. When the opportunity arises, then +I shall speak, regardless of the consequences. Therefore, Mr. Flockart, +I wish you good-evening;" and she turned away. + +"No, Gabrielle," he cried, resolutely barring her path. "You must hear +me. You don't grasp the point of my argument." + +"With me none of your arguments are of any avail," was her response in a +bitter tone. "I, alas! have reason to know you too well. For you--by +your clever intrigue--I committed a crime; but God knows I am innocent +of what was intended. Now that you have estranged me from my father and +my lover, I shall confess--confess all--before I make an end of my +life." + +He saw from her pale, drawn face that she was desperate. He grew afraid. + +"But, my dear girl, think--of what you are saying! You don't mean it; +you can't mean it. Your father has relented, and will welcome you back, +if only you will consent to return." + +"I have no wish to be regarded as the prodigal daughter," was her proud +response. + +"Not for Walter Murie's sake?" asked the crafty man. "I have seen him. I +was at the club with him last night, and we had a chat about you. He +loves you very dearly. Ah! you do not know how he is suffering." + +She was silent, and he recognised in an instant that his words had +touched the sympathetic chord in her heart. + +"He is not suffering any greater grief than I am," she said in a low, +mechanical voice, her brow heavily clouded. + +"Of course I can quite understand that," he remarked sympathetically. +"Walter is a good fellow, and--well, it is indeed sad that matters +should be as they are. He is entirely devoted to you, Gabrielle." + +"Not more so than I am to him," declared the girl quite frankly. + +"Then why did you write breaking off your engagement?" + +"He told you that?" she exclaimed in surprise. + +The truth was that Murie had told Flockart nothing. He had not even seen +him. It was only a wild guess on Flockart's part. + +"Tell me," she urged anxiously, "what did he say concerning myself?" + +Flockart hesitated. His mind was instantly active in the concoction of a +story. + +"Oh, well--he expressed the most profound regret for all that had +occurred at Glencardine, and is, of course, utterly puzzled. It appears +that just before Christmas he went home to Connachan and visited your +father several times. From him, I suppose, he heard how you had been +discovered." + +"You told him nothing?" + +"I told him nothing," declared Flockart--which was a fact. + +"Did he express a wish to see me?" she inquired. + +"Of course he did. Is he not over head and ears in love with you? He +believes you have treated him cruelly." + +"I--I know I have, Mr. Flockart," she admitted. "But I acted as any girl +of honour would have done. I was compelled to take upon myself a great +disgrace, and on doing so I released him from his promise to me." + +"Most honourable!" the man declared with a pretence of admiration, yet +underlying it all was a craftiness that surely was unsurpassed. That +visit of his to Northamptonshire was made with some ulterior motive, yet +what it was the girl was unable to discover. She would surely have been +cleverer than most people had she been able to discern the hidden, +sinister motives of James Flockart. The truth was that he had not seen +Murie, and the story of his anxiety he had only concocted on the spur of +the moment. + +"Walter asked me to give you a message," he went on. "He asked me to +urge you to return to Glencardine, and to withdraw that letter you wrote +him before your departure." + +"To return to Glencardine!" she repeated, staring into his face. "Walter +wishes me to do that! Why?" + +"Because he loves you. Because he will intercede with your father on +your behalf." + +"My father will hear nothing in my favour until--" and she paused. + +"Until what?" + +"Until I tell him the whole truth." + +"That you will never do," remarked Flockart quickly. + +"Ah! there you're mistaken," she responded. "In all probability I +shall." + +"Then, before you do so, pray weigh carefully the dire results," he +urged in a changed tone. + +"Oh, I've already done that long ago," she said. "I know that I am in +your hands, utterly and irretrievably, Mr. Flockart, and the only way I +can regain my freedom is by boldly telling the truth." + +"You must never do that! By Heaven, you shall not!" he cried, looking +fiercely into her clear eyes. + +"I know! I'm quite well aware of your attitude towards me. The claws +cannot be entirely concealed in the cat's paw, you know;" and she +laughed bitterly into his face. + +The corners of the man's mouth hardened. He was about to speak and show +himself in his true colours; but by dint of great self-control he +managed to smile and exclaim, "Then you will take no heed of these +wishes of the man who loves you so dearly, of the man who is still your +best and most devoted friend? You prefer to remain here, and wear out +your young life with vain regrets and shattered affections. Come, +Gabrielle, do be sensible." + +The girl did not speak for several moments. "Does Walter really wish me +to return?" she asked, looking straight at him, as though trying to +discern whether he was really speaking the truth. + +"Yes. He expressed to me a strong wish that you should either return to +Glencardine or go and live at Park Street." + +"He wishes to see me?" + +"Of course. It would perhaps be better if you met him first, either down +here or in London. Why should you two not be happy?" he went on. "I know +it is my fault you are consigned to this dismal life, and that you and +Walter are parted; but, believe me, Gabrielle, I am at this moment +endeavouring to bring you together again, and to reinstate you in Sir +Henry's good graces. He is longing for you to return. When I saw him +last at Glencardine he told me that Monsieur Goslin was not so clever at +typing or in grasping his meaning as you are, and he is only awaiting +your return." + +"That may be so," answered the girl in a slow, distinct voice; "but +perhaps you'll tell me, Mr. Flockart, the reason you evinced such an +unwonted curiosity in my father's affairs?" + +"My dear girl," laughed the man, "surely that isn't a fair question. I +had certain reasons of my own." + +"Yes; assisted by Lady Heyburn, you thought that you could make money by +obtaining knowledge of my father's secrets. Oh yes, I know--I know more +than you have ever imagined," declared the girl boldly. "You hope to get +rid of Monsieur Goslin from Glencardine and reinstate me--for your own +ends. I see it all." + +The man bit his lip. With chagrin he recognised that he had blundered, +and that she, shrewd and clever, had taken advantage of his error. He +was, however, too clever to exhibit his annoyance. + +"You are quite wrong in your surmise, Gabrielle," he said quickly. +"Walter Murie loves you, and loves you well. Therefore, with regret at +my compulsory denunciation of yourself, I am now endeavouring to assist +you." + +"Thank you," she responded coldly, again turning away abruptly. "I +require no assistance from a man such as yourself--a man who entrapped +me, and who denounced me in order to save himself." + +"You will regret these words," he declared, as she walked away in the +direction of Woodnewton. + +She turned upon him in fierce anger, retorting, "And perhaps you, on +your part, will regret your endeavour to entrap me a second time. I have +promised to speak the truth, and I shall keep my promise. I am not +afraid to sacrifice my own life to save my father's honour!" + +The man stood staring after her. These words of hers held him +motionless. What if she flung her good name to the winds and actually +carried out her threat? What if she really spoke the truth? Ay, what +then? + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +BETRAYS THE BOND + + +The girl hurried on, her heart filled with wonder, her eyes brimming +with tears of indignation. The one thought occupying her whole mind was +whether Walter really wished to see her again. Had Flockart spoken the +truth? The serious face of the man she loved so well rose before her +blurred vision. She had been his--his very own--until she had sent off +that fateful letter. + +In five minutes Flockart had again overtaken her. His attitude was +appealing. He urged her to at least see her lover again even if she +refused to write or return to her father. + +"Why do you come here to taunt me like this?" she cried, turning upon +him angrily. "Once, because you were my mother's friend, I believed in +you. But you deceived me, and in consequence you hold me in your power. +Were it not for that I could have spoken to my father--have told him the +truth and cleared myself. He now believes that I have betrayed his +business secrets, while at the same time he considers you to be his +friend!" + +"I am his friend, Gabrielle," the man declared. + +"Why tell me such a lie?" she asked reproachfully. "Do you think I too +am blind?" + +"Certainly not. I give you credit for being quite as clever and as +intelligent as you are dainty and charming. I----" + +"Thank you!" she cried in indignation. "I require no compliments from +you." + +"Lady Heyburn has expressed a wish to see you," he said. "She is still +in San Remo, and asked me to invite you to go down there for a few +weeks. Your aunt has written her, I think, complaining that you are not +very comfortable at Woodnewton." + +"I have not complained. Why should Aunt Emily complain of me? You seem +to be the bearer of messages from the whole of my family, Mr. Flockart." + +"I am here entirely in your own interests, my dear child," he declared +with that patronising air which so irritated her. + +"Not entirely, I think," she said, smiling bitterly. + +"I tell you, I much regret all that has happened, and----" + +"You regret!" she cried fiercely. "Do you regret the end of that +woman--you know whom I mean?" + +Beneath her straight glance he quivered. She had referred to a subject +which he fain would have buried for ever. This dainty neat-waisted girl +knew a terrible secret. Was it not only too true, as Lady Heyburn had +vaguely suggested a dozen times, that her mouth ought to be effectually +sealed? + +He had sealed it once, as he thought. Her fear to explain to her father +the incident of the opening of the safe had given him confidence that no +word of the truth regarding the past would ever pass her lips. Yet he +saw that his own machinations were now likely to prove his undoing. The +web which, with her ladyship's assistance, he had woven about her was +now stretched to breaking-point. If it did yield, then the result must +be ruin--and worse. Therefore, he was straining every effort to again +reinstate her in her father's good graces and restore in her mind +something akin to confidence. But all his arguments, as he walked on at +her side in the gathering gloom, proved useless. She was in no mood to +listen to the man who had been her evil genius ever since her +school-days. As he was speaking she was wondering if she dared go to +Walter Murie and tell him everything. What would her lover think of her? +What indeed? He would only cast her aside as worthless. No. Far better +that he should remain in ignorance and retain only sad memories of their +brief happiness. + +"I am going to Glencardine to-night," Flockart went on. "I shall join +the mail at Peterborough. What shall I tell your father?" + +"Tell him the truth," was her reply. "That, I know, you will not do. So +why need we waste further words?" + +"Do you actually refuse, then, to leave this dismal hole?" he demanded +impatiently. + +"Yes, until I speak, and tell my father the plain and ghastly story." + +"Rubbish!" he ejaculated. "You'll never do that--unless you wish to +stand beside me in a criminal dock." + +"Well, rather that than be your cat's-paw longer, Mr. Flockart!" she +cried, her face flushing with indignation. + +"Oh, oh!" he laughed, still quite imperturbed. "Come, come! This is +scarcely a wise reply, my dear little girl!" + +"I wish you to leave me. You have insulted my intelligence enough this +evening, surely--you, who only a moment ago declared yourself my +friend!" + +Slowly he selected a cigarette from his gold case, and, halting, lit it. +"Well, if you meet my well-meant efforts on your behalf with open +antagonism like this I can't make any further suggestion." + +"No, please don't. Go up to Glencardine and do your worst for me. I am +now fully able to take care of myself," she exclaimed in defiance. "You +can also write to Lady Heyburn, and tell her that I am still, and that I +always will remain, my blind father's friend." + +"But why don't you listen to reason, Gabrielle?" he implored her. "I +don't now seek to lessen or deny the wrongs I have done you in the past, +nor do I attempt to conceal from you my own position. My only object is +to bring you and Walter together again. Her ladyship knows the whole +circumstances, and deeply regrets them." + +"Her regret will be the more poignant some day, I assure you." + +"Then you really intend to act vindictively?" + +"I shall act just as I think proper," she exclaimed, halting a moment +and facing him. "Please understand that though I have been forced in the +past to act as you have indicated, because I feared you--because I had +my reputation and my father's honour at stake--I hold you in terror no +longer, Mr. Flockart." + +"Well, I'm glad you've told me that," he said, laughing as though he +treated her declaration with humour. "It's just as well, perhaps, that +we should now thoroughly understand each other. Yet if I were you I +wouldn't do anything rash. By telling the truth you'd be the only +sufferer, you know." + +"The only sufferer! Why?" + +"Well, you don't imagine I should be such a fool as to admit that what +you said was true, do you?" + +She looked at him in surprise. It had never occurred to her that he, +with his innate unscrupulousness and cunning, might deny her +allegations, and might even be able to prove them false. + +"The truth could not be denied," she said simply. "Recollect the cutting +from the Edinburgh paper." + +"Truth is denied every day in courts of law," he retorted. "No. Before +you act foolishly, remember that, put to the test, your word would stand +alone against mine and those of other people. + +"Why, the very story you would tell would be so utterly amazing and +startling that the world would declare you had invented it. Reflect upon +it for a moment, and you'll find, my dear girl, that silence is golden +in this, as in any other circumstance in life." + +She raised her eyes to his, and met his gaze firmly. "So you defy me to +speak?" she cried. "You think that I will still remain in this accursed +bondage of yours?" + +"I utter no threats, my dear child," replied Flockart. "I have never in +my life threatened you. I merely venture to point out certain +difficulties which you might have in substantiating any allegation which +you might make against me. For that reason, if for none other, is it not +better for us to be friends?" + +"I am not the friend of my father's enemy!" she declared. + +"You are quite heroic," he declared with a covert sneer. "If you really +are bent upon providing the halfpenny newspapers with a fresh sensation, +pray let me know in plenty of time, won't you?" + +"I've had sufficient of your taunts," cried the girl, bursting into a +flood of hot tears. "Leave me. I--I'll say no further word to you." + +"Except to forgive me," He added. + +"Why should I?" she asked through her tears. + +"Because, for your own sake--for the sake of your future--it will surely +be best," he pointed out. "You, no doubt, in ignorance of legal +procedure, believed that what you alleged would be accepted in a court +of justice. But reflect fully before you again threaten me. Dry your +eyes, or your aunt may suspect something wrong." + +She did not reply. What he said impressed her, and he did not fail to +recognise that fact. He smiled within himself when he saw that he had +triumphed. Yet he had not gained his point. + +She had dashed away her tears with the little wisp of lace, annoyed with +herself at betraying her indignation in that womanly way. She knew him, +alas! too well. She mistrusted him, for she was well aware of how +cleverly he had once conspired with Lady Heyburn, and with what +ingenuity she herself had been drawn into the disgraceful and amazing +affair. + +True it was that her story, if told in a criminal court, would prove so +extraordinary that it would not be believed; true also that he would, of +course, deny it, and that his denial would be borne out by the woman +who, though her father's wife, was his worst enemy. + +The man placed his hand on her shoulder, saying, "May we not be friends, +Gabrielle?" + +She shook him off roughly, responding in the negative. + +"But we are not enemies--I mean we will not be enemies as we have been, +shall we?" he urged. + +To this she made no reply. She only quickened her pace, for the twilight +was fast deepening, and she wished to be back again at her aunt's house. + +Why had that man followed her? Why, indeed, had he troubled to come +there? She could not discern his motive. + +They walked together in silence. He was watching her face, reading it +like a book. + +Then, when they neared the first thatched cottage at the entrance to the +village, he halted, asking, "May we not now become friends, Gabrielle? +Will you not listen, and take my advice? Or will you still remain buried +here?" + +"I have nothing further to say, Mr. Flockart, than what I have already +said," was her defiant response. "I shall act as I think best." + +"And you will dare to speak, and place yourself in a ridiculous +position, you mean?" + +"I shall use my own judgment in defending my father from his enemies," +was her cold response as, with a slight shrug of her shoulders, she +turned and left him, hurrying forward in the darkening twilight along +the village street to her aunt's home. + +He, on his part, turned upon his heel with a muttered remark and set out +again to walk towards Nassington Station, whence, after nearly an hour's +wait in the village inn, he took train to Peterborough. + +The girl had once again defied him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE WHISPERS AGAIN + + +Was it really true what Flockart had told her? Did Walter actually wish +to see her again? At one moment she believed in her lover's strong, +passionate devotion to her, for had she not seen it displayed in a +hundred different ways? But the next she recollected how that man +Flockart had taken advantage of her youth and inexperience in the past, +how he had often lied so circumstantially that she had believed his +words to be the truth. Once, indeed, he had openly declared to her that +one of his maxims was never to tell the truth unless obliged. After +dinner, a simple meal served in the poky little dining-room, she made an +excuse to go to her room, and there sat for a long time, deeply +reflecting. Should she write to Walter? Would it be judicious to explain +Flockart's visit, and how he had urged their reconciliation? If she +wrote, would it lower her dignity in her lover's eyes? That was the +great problem which now troubled her. She sat staring before her +undecided. She recalled all that Flockart had told her. He was the +emissary of Lady Heyburn without a doubt. The girl had told him openly +of her decision to speak the truth and expose him, but he had only +laughed at her. Alas! she knew his true character, unscrupulous and +pitiless. But she placed him aside. + +Recollection of Walter--the man who had held her so often in his arms +and pressed his hot lips to hers, the man who was her father's firm +friend and whose uprightness and honesty of purpose she had ever +admired--crowded upon her. Should she write to him? Rigid and staring, +she sat in her chair, her little white hands clenched, as she tried to +summon courage. It had been she who had written declaring that their +secret engagement must be broken, she who had condemned herself. +Therefore, had she not a right to satisfy that longing she had had +through months, the longing to write to him once again. The thought +decided her; and, going to the table whereon the lamp was burning, she +sat down, and after some reflection, penned a letter as follows:-- + +"MY SWEETHEART, MY DARLING, MY OWN, MY SOUL--MINE--ONLY MINE,--I am +wondering how and where you are! True, I wrote you a cruel letter; but +it was imperative, and under the force of circumstance. I am full of +regrets, and I only wish with all my heart that I might kiss you once +again, and press you in my arms as I used to do. + +"But how are you? I have had you before my eyes to-night, and I feel +quite sure that at this very moment you are thinking of me. You must +know that I love you dearly. You gave me your heart, and it shall not +belong to any other. I have tried to be brave and courageous; but, alas! +I have failed. I love you, my darling, and I must see you soon--very +soon. + +"Mr. Flockart came to see me to-day and says that you expressed to him a +desire to meet me again. Gratify that desire when you will, and you will +find your Gabrielle just the same--longing ever to see you, living with +only the memories of your dear face. + +"Can you doubt of my great, great love for you? You never wrote in reply +to my letter, though I have waited for months. I know my letter was a +cruel one, and to you quite unwarranted; but I had a reason for writing +it, and the reason was because I felt that I ought not to deceive you +any longer. + +"You see, darling, I am frank and open. Yes, I have deceived you. I am +terribly ashamed and downhearted. I have tried to conceal my grief, even +from you; but it is impossible. I love you as much as I ever loved you, +and I swear to you that I have never once wavered. + +"Grim circumstance forced me to write to you as I did. Forgive me, I beg +of you. If it is true what Mr. Flockart says, then send me a telegram, +and come here to see me. If it be false, then I shall know by your +silence. + +"I love you, my own, my well-beloved! _Au revoir_, my dearest heart. I +look at your photograph which to-night smiles at me. Yes, you love me! + +"With many fond and sweet kisses like those I gave you in the +well-remembered days of our happiness. + +"My love--My king!" + +She read the letter carefully through, placed it in an envelope, and, +marking it private, addressed it to Walter's chambers in the Temple, +whence she knew it must be forwarded if he were away. Then, putting on +her tam o' shanter, she went out to the village grocer's, where she +posted it, so that it left by the early morning mail. When would his +welcome telegram arrive? She calculated that he would get the letter by +mid-day, and by one o'clock she could receive his reply--his reassurance +of love. + +So she went to her bed, with its white dimity hangings, more calm and +composed than for months before. For a long time she lay awake, thinking +of him, listening hour by hour to the chiming bells of the old Norman +church. They marked the passing of the night. Then she dropped off to +sleep, to be awakened by the sun streaming into the room. + +That same morning, away up in the Highlands at Glencardine, Sir Henry +had groped his way across the library to his accustomed chair, and Hill +had placed before him one of the shallow drawers of the cabinet of +seal-impressions. + +There were fully half a dozen which had been sent to him by the curator +of the museum at Norwich, sulphur-casts of seals recently acquired by +that institution. + +The blind man had put aside that morning to examine them, and settled +himself to his task with the keen and pleasurable anticipation of the +expert. + +They were very fine specimens. The blind man, sitting alone, selected +one, and, fingering it very carefully for a long time, at last made out +its design and the inscription upon it. + +"The seal of Abbot Simon de Luton, of the early thirteenth century," he +said slowly to himself. "The wolf guards the head of St. Edmund as it +does in the seal of the Benedictine Abbey of Bury St. Edmunds, while the +Virgin with the Child is over the canopy. And the verse is indeed +curious for its quaintness:" + ++ VIRGO . DEUM . FERT . DUX . CAPUD . AUFERT . QUOD . LUPUS . HIC . FERT + + +Then he again retraced the letters with his sensitive fingers to +reassure himself that he had made no mistake. + +The next he drew towards him proved to be the seal of the Vice-Warden of +the Grey Friars of Cambridge, a pointed one used about the year 1244, +which to himself he declared, in heraldic language, to bear the device +of "a cross raguly debruised by a spear, and a crown of thorns in bend +dexter, and a sponge on a staff in bend sinister, between two threefold +_flagella_ in base"--surely a formidable array of the instruments used +in the Passion. + +Deeply interested, and speaking to himself aloud, as was his habit when +alone, he examined them one after the other. Among the collection were +the seals of Berengar de Brolis, Plebanus of Pacina (in Syracuse), and +those of the Commune of Beauvais (1228); Mathilde (or Mahaut), daughter +of Henri Duke of Brabant (1265); the town of Oudenbourg in West +Flanders, and of the Vicar-Provincial of the Carmelite Order at Palermo +(1350); Jacobus de Gnapet, Bishop of Rennes (1480); and of Bondi Marquis +of Sasolini of Bologna (1323). + +He had almost concluded when Goslin, the grey-bearded Frenchman, having +breakfasted alone in the dining-room, entered. "Ah, _mon cher_ Sir +Henry!" he exclaimed, "at work so early! The study of seals must be very +fascinating to you, though I confess that, for myself, I could never see +in them very much to interest one." + +"No. To the ordinary person, my dear Goslin, it appears no doubt, a most +dryasdust study, but to a man afflicted like myself it is the only study +that he can pursue, for with his finger tips he can learn the devices +and decipher the inscriptions," the blind Baronet declared. "Take, for +instance, only this little collection of a dozen or so impressions which +they have so kindly sent to me from Norwich. Each one of them tells me +something. Its device, its general character, its heraldry, its +inscription, are all highly instructive. For the collector there are +opportunities for the study of the historical allusions, the +emblematology and imagery, the hagiology, the biographical and +topographical episodes, and the other peculiarities and idiosyncrasies +in all the seals he possesses." + +Goslin, like most other people, had been many times bored by the old +man's technical discourses upon his hobby. But he never showed it. He, +just the same as other people, made pretence of being interested. "Yes," +he remarked, "they must be most instructive to the student. I recollect +seeing a great quantity in the Bargello at Florence." + +"Ah, a very fine collection--part of the Medici collection, and contains +some of the finest Italian and Spanish specimens," remarked the blind +connoisseur. "Birch of the British Museum is quite right in declaring +that the seal, portable and abounding in detail, not difficult of +acquisition nor hard to read if we set about deciphering the story it +has to tell, takes us back as we look upon it to the very time of its +making, and sets us, as it were, face to face with the actual owners of +the relic." + +The Frenchman sighed. He saw he was in for a long dissertation; and, +moving uneasily towards the window, changed the topic of conversation by +saying, "I had a long letter from Paris this morning. Krail is back +again, it appears." + +"Ah, that man!" cried the other impatiently. "When will his +extraordinary energies be suppressed? They are watching him carefully, I +suppose." + +"Of course," replied the Frenchman. "He left Paris about a month ago, +but unfortunately the men watching him did not follow. He took train for +Berlin, and has been absent until now." + +"We ought to know where he's been, Goslin," declared the elder man. +"What fool was it who, keeping him under surveillance, allowed him to +slip from Paris?" + +"The Russian Tchernine." + +"I thought him a clever fellow, but it seems that he's a bungler after +all." + +"But while we keep Krail at arm's length, as we are doing, what have we +to fear?" asked Goslin. + +"Yes, but how long can we keep him at arm's length?" queried Sir Henry. +"You know the kind of man--one of the most extraordinarily inventive in +Europe. No secret is safe from him. Do you know, Goslin," he added, in a +changed voice, "I live nowadays somehow in constant apprehension." + +"You've never possessed the same self-confidence since you found +Mademoiselle Gabrielle with the safe open," he remarked. + +"No. Murie, or some other man she knows, must have induced her to do +that, and take copies of those documents. Fortunately, I suspected an +attempt, and baited the trap accordingly." + +"What caused you to suspect?" + +"Because more than once both Murie and the girl seemed to be seized by +an unusual desire to pry into my business." + +"You don't think that our friend Flockart had anything to do with the +affair?" the Frenchman suggested. + +"No, no. Not in the least. I know Flockart too well," declared the old +man. "Once I looked upon him as my enemy, but I have now come to the +conclusion that he is a friend--a very good friend." + +The Frenchman pulled a rather wry face, and remained silent. + +"I know," Sir Henry went on, "I know quite well that his constant +association with my wife has caused a good deal of gossip; but I have +dismissed it all with the contempt that such attempted scandal deserves. +It has been put about by a pack of women who are jealous of my wife's +good looks and her _chic_ in dress." + +"Are not Flockart and mademoiselle also good friends?" inquired Goslin. + +"No. I happen to know that they are not, and that very fact in itself +shows me that Gabrielle, in trying to get at the secret of my business, +was not aided by Flockart, for it was he who exposed her." + +"Yes," remarked the Frenchman, "so you've told me before. Have you heard +from mademoiselle lately?" + +"Only twice since she has left here," was the old man's bitter reply, +"and that was twice too frequently. I've done with her, Goslin--done +with her entirely. Never in all my life did I receive such a crushing +blow as when I found that she, in whom I reposed the utmost confidence, +had played her own father false, and might have ruined him!" + +"Yes," remarked the other sympathetically, "it was a great blow to you, +I know. But will you not forgive mademoiselle?" + +"Forgive her!" he cried fiercely, "forgive her! Never!" + +The grey-bearded Frenchman, who had always been a great favourite with +Gabrielle, sighed slightly, and gave his shoulders a shrug of regret. + +"Why do you ask that?" inquired Sir Henry, "when she herself admitted +that she had been at the safe?" + +"Because----" and the other hesitated. "Well, for several reasons. The +story of your quarrel with mademoiselle has leaked out." + +"The Whispers--eh, Goslin?" laughed the old man in defiance. "Let the +people believe what they will. My daughter shall never return to +Glencardine--never!" + +As he had been speaking the door had opened, and James Flockart stood +upon the threshold. He had overheard the blind man's words, and as he +came forward he smiled, more in satisfaction than in greeting. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +CONTAINS A FURTHER MYSTERY + + +"My dear Edgar, when I met you in the Devonshire Club last night I could +scarcely believe my own eyes. Fancy you turning up again!" + +"Yes, strange, isn't it, how two men may drift apart for years, and then +suddenly meet in a club, as we have done, Murie?" + +"Being with those fellows who were anxious to go along and see the show +at the Empire last night, I had no opportunity of having a chat with +you, my dear old chap. That's why I asked you to look in." + +The two men were seated in Walter's dingy chambers on the second floor +in Fig-Tree Court, Temple. The room was an old and rather frowsy one, +with shabby leather furniture from which the stuffing protruded, +panelled walls, a carpet almost threadbare, and a formidable array of +calf-bound volumes in the cases lining one wall. The place was heavy +with tobacco-smoke as the pair, reclining in easy-chairs, were in the +full enjoyment of very excellent cigars. + +Walter's visitor was a tall, dark man, some six or seven years his +senior, a rather spare, lantern-jawed young fellow, whose dark-grey +clothes were of unmistakable foreign cut; and whose moustache was +carefully trained to an upward trend. No second glance was required to +decide that Edgar Hamilton was a person who, having lived a long time on +the Continent, had acquired the cosmopolitan manner both in gesture and +in dress. + +"Well," exclaimed Murie at last, blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips, +"since we parted at Oxford I've been called to the Bar, as you see. As +for practice--well, I haven't any. The gov'nor wants me to go in for +politics, so I'm trying to please him by getting my hand in. I make an +odd speech or two sometimes in out-of-the-world villages, and I hope, +one day, to find myself the adopted candidate for some borough or other. +Last year I was sent round the world by my fond parents in order to +obtain a broader view of life. Is it not Tacitus who says, '_Sua cuique +vita obscura est_'?" + +"Yes, my dear fellow," replied Hamilton, stretching himself lazily in +his chair. "And surely we can say with Martial, '_Non est vivere, sed +valere vita_'--I am well, therefore I am alive! Mine has been a rather +curious career up to the present. I only once heard of you after +Oxford--through Arthur Price, who was, you'll remember, at Balliol. He +wrote that he'd spoken one night to you when at supper at the Savoy. You +had a bevy of beauties with you, he said." + +Both men laughed. In the old days, Edgar Hamilton had been essentially a +ladies' man; but, since they had parted one evening on the +station-platform at Oxford, Hamilton had gone up to town and completely +out of the life of Walter Murie. They had not met until the previous +evening, when Walter, having dined at the Devonshire--that comfortable +old-world club in St. James's Street which was the famous Crockford's +gaming-house in the days of the dandies--he had met his old friend in +the strangers' smoking-room, the guest of a City stockbroker who was +entertaining a party. A hurried greeting of surprise, and an invitation +to call in at the Temple resulted in that meeting on that grey +afternoon. + +Six years had gone since they had parted; and, judging from Edgar's +exterior, he had been pretty prosperous. + +Walter was laughing and commenting upon it when his friend, removing his +cigar from his lips, said, "My dear fellow, my success has been entirely +due to one incident which is quite romantic. In fact, if anybody wrote +it in a book people would declare it to be fiction." + +"That's interesting! Tell me all about it. My own life has been humdrum +enough in all conscience. As a budding politician, I have to browse upon +blue-books and chew statistics." + +"And mine has been one of travel, adventure, and considerable +excitement," declared Hamilton. "Six months after I left Oxford I found +myself out in Transcaucasia as a newspaper correspondent. As you know, I +often wrote articles for some of the more precious papers when at +college. Well, one of them sent me out to travel through the disturbed +Kurdish districts. I had a tough time from the start. I was out with a +Cossack party in Thai Aras valley, east of Erivan, for six months, and +wrote lots of articles which created a good deal of sensation here in +England. You may have seen them, but they were anonymous. The life of +excitement, sometimes fighting and at others in ambush in the mountains, +suited me admirably, for I'm a born adventurer, I believe. One day, +however, a strange thing happened. I was riding along alone through one +of the mountain passes towards the Caspian when I discovered three wild, +fierce-looking Kurds maltreating a girl, believing her to be a Russian. +I called upon them to release her, for she was little more than a child; +and, as they did not, I shot two of the men. The third shot and plugged +me rather badly in the leg; but I had the satisfaction that my shots +attracted my Cossack companions, who, coming quickly on the spot, killed +all three of the girl's assailants, and released her." + +"By Jove!" laughed Murie. "Was she pretty?" + +"Not extraordinarily--a fair-haired girl of about fifteen, dressed in +European clothes. I fainted from loss of blood, and don't remember +anything else until I found myself in a tent, with two Cossacks patching +up my wound. When I came to, she rushed forward, and thanked me +profusely for saving her. To my surprise, she spoke in French, and on +inquiry I found that she was the daughter of a certain Baron Conrad de +Hetzendorf, an Austrian, who possessed a house in Budapest and a château +at Semlin, in South Hungary. She told us a curious story. Her father had +some business in Transcaucasia, and she had induced him to take her with +him on his journey. Only certain districts of the country were +disturbed; and apparently, with their guide and escort, they had +unwittingly entered the Aras region--one of the most lawless of them +all--in ignorance of what was in progress. She and her father, +accompanied by a guide and four Cossacks, had been riding along when +they met a party of Kurds, who had attacked them. Both father and +daughter had been seized, whereupon she had lost consciousness from +fright, and when she came to again found that the four Cossacks had been +killed, her father had been taken off, and she was alone in the brutal +hands of those three wild-looking tribesmen. As soon as she had told us +this, the officer of the Cossacks to which I had attached myself called +the men together, and in a quarter of an hour the whole body went forth +to chase the Kurds and rescue the Baron. One big Cossack, in his long +coat and astrakhan cap, was left to look after me, while Nicosia--that +was the girl's name--was also left to assist him. After three days they +returned, bringing with them the Baron, whose delight at finding his +daughter safe and unharmed was unbounded. They had fought the Kurds and +defeated them, killing nearly twenty. Ah, my dear Murie, you haven't any +notion of the lawless state of that country just then! And I fear it is +pretty much the same now." + +"Well, go on," urged his friend. "What about the girl? I suppose you +fell in love with her, and all that, eh?" + +"No, you're mistaken there, old chap," was his reply. "When she +explained to her father what had happened, the Baron thanked me very +warmly, and invited me to visit him in Budapest when my leg grew strong +again. He was a man of about fifty, who, I found, spoke English very +well. Nicosia also spoke English, for she had explained to me that her +mother, now dead, had been a Londoner. The Baron's business in +Transcaucasia was, he told me vaguely, in connection with the survey of +a new railway which the Russian Government was projecting eastward from +Erivan. For two days he remained with us; but during those days my wound +was extremely painful owing to lack of surgical appliances, so we spoke +of very little else besides the horrible atrocities committed by the +Kurds. He pressed me to visit him; and then, with an escort of our +Cossacks, he and his daughter left for Tiflis; whence he took train back +to Hungary. + +"For six months I remained, still leading that roving, adventurous life. +My leg was well again, but my journalistic commission was at an end, and +one day I found myself in Odessa, very short of funds. I recollected the +Baron's invitation to Budapest, therefore I took train there, and found +his residence to be one of those great white houses on the Franz Josef +Quay. He received me with marked enthusiasm, and compelled me to be his +guest. During the first week I was there I told him, in confidence, my +position, whereupon he offered me a very lucrative post as his +secretary, a post which I have retained until this moment." + +"And the girl?" Walter asked, much interested. + +"Oh, she finished her education in Dresden and in Paris, and now lives +mostly with her aunt in Vienna," was Hamilton's response. "Quite +recently she's become engaged to young Count de Solwegen, the son of one +of the wealthiest men in Austria." + +"I thought you'd probably become the happy lover." + +"Lover!" cried his friend. "How could a poor devil like myself ever +aspire to the hand of the daughter of the Baron de Hetzendorf? The name +doesn't convey much to you, I suppose?" + +"No, I don't take much interest in unknown foreigners, I confess," +replied Walter, with a smile. + +"Ah, you're not a cosmopolitan nor a financier, or you would know the +thousand-and-one strings which are pulled by Conrad de Hetzendorf, or +the curious stories afloat concerning him." + +"Curious stories!" echoed Murie. "Tell me some. I'm always interested in +anything mysterious." + +Hamilton was silent for a few moments. + +"Well, old chap, to tell you the truth, even though I've got such a +comfortable and lucrative post, I'm, even after these years, +considerably mystified." + +"How?" + +"By the real nature of the Baron's business." + +"Oh, he's a mysterious person, is he?" + +"Very. Though I'm his confidential secretary, and deal with his affairs +in his absence, yet in some matters he is remarkably close, as though he +fears me." + +"You live always in Budapest, I suppose?" + +"No. In summer we are at the country house, a big place overlooking the +Danube outside Semlin, and commanding a wide view of the great Hungarian +plain." + +"The Baron transacts his business there, eh?" + +"From there or from Budapest. His business is solely with an office in +the Boulevard des Capucines in Paris, and a registered telegraphic +address also in Paris." + +"Well, there's nothing very mysterious in that, surely. Some business +matters must, of necessity, be conducted with secrecy." + +"I know all that, my dear fellow, but--" and he hesitated, as though +fearing to take his friend into his confidence. + +"But what?" + +"Well--but there, no! You'd laugh at me if I told you the real reason of +my uneasiness." + +"I certainly won't, my dear Hamilton," Murie assured him. "We are +friends to-day, dear old chap, just as we were at college. Surely it is +not the place of a man to poke fun at his friend?" + +The argument was apparently convincing. The Baron's secretary smoked on +in thoughtful silence, his eyes fixed upon the wall in front of him. + +"Well," he said at last, "if you promise to view the matter in all +seriousness, I'll tell you. Briefly, it's this. Of course, you've never +been to Semlin--or Zimony, as they call it in the Magyar tongue. To +understand aright, I must describe the place. In the extreme south of +Hungary, where the river Save joins the Danube, the town of Semlin +guards the frontier. Upon a steep hill, five kilometres from the town, +stands the Baron's residence, a long, rather inartistic white building, +which, however, is very luxuriously furnished. Comparatively modern, it +stands near the ruins of a great old castle of Hetzendorf, which +commands a wide sweep of the Danube. Now, amid those ruins strange +noises are sometimes heard, and it is said that upon all who hear them +falls some terrible calamity. I'm not superstitious, but I've heard +them--on three occasions! And somehow--well, somehow--I cannot get rid +of an uncanny feeling that some catastrophe is to befall me! I can't go +back to Semlin. I'm unnerved, and dare not return there." + +"Noises!" cried Walter Murie. "What are they like?" he asked quickly, +starting from his chair, and staring at his friend. + +"They seem to emanate from nowhere, and are like deep but distant +whispers. So plain they were that I could have sworn that some one was +speaking, and in English, too!" + +"Does the baron know?" + +"Yes, I told him, and he appeared greatly alarmed. Indeed, he gave me +leave of absence to come home to England." + +"Well," exclaimed Murie, "what you tell me, old chap, is most +extraordinary! Why, there is almost an exactly similar legend connected +with Glencardine!" + +"Glencardine!" cried his friend. "Glencardine Castle, in Scotland! I've +heard of that. Do you know the place?" + +"The estate marches with my father's, therefore I know it well. How +extraordinary that there should be almost exactly the same legend +concerning a Hungarian castle!" + +"Who is the owner of Glencardine?" + +"Sir Henry Heyburn, a friend of mine." + +"Heyburn!" echoed Hamilton. "Heyburn the blind man?" he gasped, grasping +the arm of his chair and staring back at his companion. "And he is your +friend? You know his daughter, then?" + +"Yes, I know Gabrielle," was Walter's reply, as there flashed across him +the recollection of that passionate letter to which he had not replied. +"Why?" + +"Is she also your friend?" + +"She certainly is." + +Hamilton was silent. He saw that he was treading dangerous ground. The +legend of Glencardine was the same as that of the old Magyar stronghold +of Hetzendorf. Gabrielle Heyburn was Murie's friend. Therefore he +resolved to say no more. + +Gabrielle Heyburn! + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +REVEALS SOMETHING TO HAMILTON + + +Edgar Hamilton sat with his eyes fixed upon the dingy, inartistic, +smoke-begrimed windows of the chambers opposite. The man before him was +acquainted with Gabrielle Heyburn! For over a year he had not been in +London. He recollected the last occasion--recollected it, alas! only too +well. His thin countenance wore a puzzled, anxious expression, the +expression of a man face to face with a great difficulty. + +"Tell me, Walter," he said at last, "what kind of place is Glencardine +Castle? What kind of man is Sir Henry Heyburn?" + +"Glencardine is one of the most beautiful estates in Scotland. It lies +between Perth and Stirling. The ruins of the ancient castle, where the +great Marquis of Glencardine, who was such a figure in Scottish history, +was born, stands perched up above a deep, delightful glen; and some +little distance off stands the modern house, built in great part from +the ruins of the stronghold." + +"And there are noises heard there the same as at Hetzendorf, you say?" + +"Well, the countryfolk believe that, on certain nights, there can be +heard in the castle courtyard distinct whispering--the counsel of the +devil himself to certain conspirators who took the life of the notorious +Cardinal Setoun." + +"Has any one actually heard them?" + +"They say so--or, at any rate, several persons after declaring that they +had heard them have died quite suddenly." + +Hamilton pursed his lips. "Well," he exclaimed, "that's really most +remarkable! Practically, the same legend is current in South Hungary +regarding Hetzendorf. Strange--very strange!" + +"Very," remarked the heir to the great estate of Connachan. "But, after +all, cannot one very often trace the same legend through the folklore of +various countries? I remember I once attended a lecture upon that very +interesting subject." + +"Oh, of course. Many ancient legends have sprung from the same germ, so +that often we have practically the same fairy-story all over Europe. But +this, it seems to me, is no fairy story." + +"Well," laughed Murie, "the history of Glencardine Castle and the +historic family is so full of stirring episodes that I really don't +wonder that the ruins are believed to be the abode of something +supernatural. My father possesses some of the family papers, while Sir +Henry, when he bought Glencardine, also acquired a quantity. Only a year +ago he told me that he had had an application from a well-known +historical writer for access to them, as he was about to write a book +upon the family." + +"Then you know Sir Henry well?" + +"Very well indeed. I'm often his guest, and frequently shoot over the +place." + +"I've heard that Lady Heyburn is a very pretty woman," remarked the +other, glancing at his friend with a peculiar look. + +"Some declare her to be beautiful; but to myself, I confess, she's not +very attractive." + +"There are stories about her, eh?" Hamilton said. + +"As there are about every good-looking woman. Beauty cannot escape +unjust criticism or the scars of lying tongues." + +"People pity Sir Henry, I've heard." + +"They, of course, sympathise with him, poor old gentleman, because he's +blind. His is, indeed, a terrible affliction. Only fancy the change from +a brilliant Parliamentary career to idleness, darkness, and knitting." + +"I suppose he's very wealthy?" + +"He must be. The price he paid for Glencardine was a very heavy one; +and, besides that, he has two other places, as well as a house in Park +Street and a villa at San Remo." + +"Cotton, or steel, or soap, or some other domestic necessity, I +suppose?" + +Murie shrugged his shoulders. "Nobody knows," he answered. "The source +of Sir Henry's vast wealth is a profound mystery." + +His friend smiled, but said nothing. Walter Murie had risen to obtain +matches, therefore he did not notice the curious expression upon his +friend's face, a look which betrayed that he knew more than he intended +to tell. + +"Those noises heard in the castle puzzle me," he remarked after a few +moments. + +"At Glencardine they are known as the Whispers," Murie remarked. + +"By Jove! I'd like to hear them." + +"I don't think there'd be much chance of that, old chap," laughed the +other. "They're only heard by those doomed to an early death." + +"I may be. Who knows?" he asked gloomily. + +"Well, if I were you I wouldn't anticipate catastrophe." + +"No," said his friend in a more serious tone, "I've already heard those +at Hetzendorf, and--well, I confess they've aroused in my mind some very +uncanny apprehensions." + +"But did you really hear them? Are you sure they were not imagination? +In the night sounds always become both magnified and distorted." + +"Yes, I'm certain of what I heard. I was careful to convince myself that +it was not imagination, but actual reality." + +Walter Murie smiled dubiously. "Sir Henry scouts the idea of the +Whispers being heard at Glencardine," he said. + +"And, strangely enough, so does the Baron. He's a most matter-of-fact +man." + +"How curious that the cases are almost parallel, and yet so far apart! +The Baron has a daughter, and so has Sir Henry." + +"Gabrielle is at Glencardine, I suppose?" asked Hamilton. + +"No, she's living with a maiden aunt at an out-of-the-world village in +Northamptonshire called Woodnewton." + +"Oh, I thought she always lived at Glencardine, and acted as her +father's right hand." + +"She did until a few months ago, when----" and he paused. "Well," he +went on, "I don't know exactly what occurred, except that she left +suddenly, and has not since returned." + +"Her mother, perhaps. No girl of spirit gets on well with her +stepmother." + +"Possibly that," Walter said. He knew the truth, but had no desire to +tell even his old friend of the allegation against the girl whom he +loved. + +Hamilton noted the name of the village, and sat wondering at what the +young barrister had just told him. It had aroused suspicions within +him--strange suspicions. + +They sat together for another half-hour, and before they parted arranged +to lunch together at the Savoy in two days' time. + +Turning out of the Temple, Edgar Hamilton walked along the Strand to the +Metropole, in Northumberland Avenue, where he was staying. His mind was +full of what his friend had said--full of that curious legend of +Glencardine which coincided so strangely with that of far-off +Hetzendorf. The jostling crowd in the busy London thoroughfare he did +not see. He was away again on the hill outside the old-fashioned +Hungarian town, with the broad Danube shining in the white moonbeams. He +saw the grim walls that had for centuries withstood the brunt of battle +with the Turks, and from them came the whispering voice--the voice said +to be that of the Evil One. The Tziganes--that brown-faced race of gipsy +wanderers, the women with their bright-coloured skirts and head-dresses, +and the men with the wonderful old silver filigree buttons upon their +coats---had related to him many weird stories regarding Hetzendorf and +the meaning of those whispers. Yet none of their stories was so curious +as that which Murie had just told him. Similar sounds were actually +heard in the old castle up in the Highlands! His thoughts were wholly +absorbed in that one extraordinary fact. + +He went to the smoking-room of the hotel, and, obtaining a +railway-guide, searched it in vain. Then, ordering from a waiter a map +of England, he eagerly searched Northamptonshire and discovered the +whereabouts of Woodnewton. Therefore, that night he left London for +Oundle, and put up at the old-fashioned "Talbot." + +At ten o'clock on the following morning, after making a detour, he +alighted from a dogcart before the little inn called the Westmorland +Arms at Apethorpe, just outside the lodge-gates of Apethorpe Hall, and +making excuse to the groom that he was going for a walk, he set off at a +brisk pace over the little bridge and up the hill to Woodnewton. + +The morning was dark and gloomy, with threatening rain, and the distance +was somewhat greater than he had calculated from the map. At last, +however, he came to the entrance to the long village street, with its +church and its rows of low thatched cottages. + +A tiny inn, called the "White Lion," stood before him, therefore he +entered, and calling for some ale, commenced to chat with the old lady +who kept the place. + +After the usual conventionalities about the weather, he said, "I suppose +you don't have very many strangers in Woodnewton, eh?" + +"Not many, sir," was her reply. "We see a few people from Oundle and +Northampton in the summer--holiday folk. But that's all." + +Then, by dint of skilful questioning, he elucidated the fact that old +Miss Heyburn lived in the tiled house further up the village, and that +her niece, who lived with her, had passed along with her dog about a +quarter of an hour before, and taken the footpath towards Southwick. + +Ascertaining this, he was all anxiety to follow her; but, knowing how +sharp are village eyes upon a stranger, he was compelled to conceal his +eagerness, light another cigarette, and continue his chat. + +At last, however, he wished the woman good-day, and, strolling half-way +up the village, turned into a narrow lane which led across a farmyard to +a footpath which ran across the fields, following a brook. Eager to +overtake the girl, he sped along as quickly as possible. + +"Gabrielle Heyburn!" he ejaculated, speaking to himself. Her name was +all that escaped his lips. A dozen times that morning he had repeated +it, uttering it in a tone almost of wonder--almost of awe. + +Across several ploughed fields he went, leaving the brook, and, skirting +a high hedge to the side of a small wood, he followed the well-trodden +path for nearly half-an-hour, when, of a sudden, he emerged from a +narrow lane between two hedgerows into a large pasture. + +Before him, he saw standing together, on the brink of the river Nene, +two figures--a man and a woman. + +The girl was dressed in blue serge, and wore a white woollen +tam-o'-shanter, while the man had on a dark grey overcoat with a brown +felt hat, and nearby, with his eye upon some sheep grazing some distance +away, stood a big collie. + +Hamilton started, and drew back. + +The pair were standing together in earnest conversation, the man facing +him, the girl with her back turned. + +"What does this mean?" gasped Hamilton aloud. "What can this secret +meeting mean? Why--yes, I'm certainly not mistaken--it's Krail--Felix +Krail, by all that's amazing!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +DESCRIBES A CURIOUS CIRCUMSTANCE + + +To Hamilton it was evident that the man Krail, now smartly dressed in +country tweeds, was telling the girl something which surprised her. He +was speaking quickly, making involuntary gestures which betrayed his +foreign birth, while she stood pale, surprised, and yet defiant. The +Baron's secretary was not near enough to overhear their words. Indeed, +he remained there in concealment in order to watch. + +Why had Gabrielle met Felix Krail--of all men? She was beautiful. Yes, +there could be no two opinions upon that point, Edgar decided. And yet +how strange it all was, how very remarkable, how romantic! + +The man was evidently endeavouring to impress upon the girl some plain +truths to which, at first, she refused to listen. She shrugged her +shoulders impatiently and swung her walking-stick before her in an +attempt to remain unconcerned. But from where Hamilton was standing he +could plainly detect her agitation. Whatever Krail had told her had +caused her much nervous anxiety. What could it be? + +Across the meadows, beyond the river, could be seen the lantern-tower of +old Fotheringhay church, with the mound behind where once stood the +castle where ill-fated Mary met her doom. + +And as the Baron's secretary watched, he saw that the foreigner's +attitude was gradually changing from persuasive to threatening. He was +speaking quickly, probably in French, making wild gestures with his +hands, while she had drawn back with an expression of alarm. She was +now, it seemed, frightened at the man, and to Edgar Hamilton this +increased the interest tenfold. + +Through his mind there flashed the recollection of a previous occasion +when he had seen the man now before him. He was in different garb, and +acting a very different part. But his face was still the same--a +countenance which it was impossible to forget. He was watching the +changing expression upon the girl's face. Would that he could read the +secret hidden behind those wonderful eyes! He had, quite unexpectedly, +discovered a mysterious circumstance. Why should Krail meet her by +accident at that lonely spot? + +The pair moved very slowly together along the path which, having left +the way to Southwick, ran along the very edge of the broad, winding +river towards Fotheringhay. Until they had crossed the wide pasture-land +and followed the bend of the stream Hamilton dare not emerge from his +place of concealment. They might glance back and discover him. If so, +then to watch Krail's movements further would be futile. + +He saw that, by the exercise of caution, he might perhaps learn +something of deeper interest than he imagined. So he watched until they +disappeared, and then sped along the path they had taken until he came +to a clump of bushes which afforded further cover. From where he stood, +however, he could see nothing. He could hear voices--a man's voice +raised in distinct threats, and a woman's quick, defiant response. + +He walked round the bushes quickly, trying to get sight of the pair, but +the river bent sharply at that point in such a manner that he could not +get a glimpse of them. + +Again he heard Krail speaking rapidly in French, and still again the +girl's response. Then, next instant, there was a shrill scream and a +loud splash. + +Next moment, he had darted from his hiding-place to find the girl +struggling in the water, while at the same time he caught sight of Krail +disappearing quickly around the path. Had he glanced back he could not +have seen the girl in the stream. + +At that point the bank was steep, and the stillness of the river and +absence of rushes told that it was deep. + +The girl was throwing up her hand, shrieking for help; therefore, +without a second's hesitation, Hamilton, who was a good swimmer, threw +off his coat, and, diving in, was soon at her side. + +By this time Krail had hurried on, and could obtain no glimpse of what +was in progress owing to the sharp bend of the river. + +After considerable splashing--Hamilton urging her to remain calm--he +succeeded in bringing her to land, where they both struggled up the bank +dripping wet and more or less exhausted. Some moments elapsed before +either spoke; until, indeed, Hamilton, looking straight into the girl's +face and bursting out laughing, exclaimed, "Well, I think I have the +pleasure of being acquainted with you, but I must say that we both look +like drowned rats!" + +"I look horrid!" she declared, staring at him half-dazed, putting her +hands to her dripping hair. "I know I must. But I have to thank you for +pulling me out. Only fancy, Mr. Hamilton--you!" + +"Oh, no thanks are required! What we must do is to get to some place and +get our clothes dried," he said. "Do you know this neighbourhood?" + +"Oh, yes. Straight over there, about a quarter of a mile away, is +Wyatt's farm. Mrs. Wyatt will look after us, I'm sure." And as she rose +to her feet, regarding her companion shyly, her skirts clung around her +and the water squelched from her shoes. + +"Very well," he answered cheerily. "Let's go and see what can be done +towards getting some dry kit. I'm glad you're not too frightened. A good +many girls would have fainted, and all that kind of thing." + +"I certainly should have gone under if you hadn't so fortunately come +along!" she exclaimed. "I really don't know how to thank you +sufficiently. You've actually saved my life, you know! If it were not +for you I'd have been dead by this time, for I can't swim a stroke." + +"By Jove!" he laughed, treating the whole affair as a huge joke, "how +romantic it sounds! Fancy meeting you again after all this time, and +saving your life! I suppose the papers will be full of it if they get to +know--gallant rescue, and all that kind of twaddle." + +"Well, personally, I hope the papers won't get hold of this piece of +intelligence," she said seriously, as they walked together, rather +pitiable objects, across the wide grass-fields. + +He glanced at her pale face, her hair hanging dank and wet about it, and +saw that, even under these disadvantageous conditions, she had grown +more beautiful than before. Of late he had heard of her--heard a good +deal of her--but had never dreamed that they would meet again in that +manner. + +"How did it happen?" he asked in pretence of ignorance of her +companion's presence. + +She raised her fine eyes to his for a moment, and wavered beneath his +inquiring gaze. + +"I--I--well, I really don't know," was her rather lame answer. "The bank +was very slippery, and--well, I suppose I walked too near." + +Her reply struck him as curious. Why did she attempt to shield the man +who, by his sudden flight, was self-convicted of an attempt upon her +life? + +Felix Krail was not a complete stranger to her. Why had their meeting +been a clandestine one? This, and a thousand similar queries ran through +his mind as they walked across the field in the direction of a long, +low, thatched farmhouse which stood in the distance. + +"I'm a complete stranger in these parts," Hamilton informed her. "I live +nowadays mostly abroad, away above the Danube, and am only home for a +holiday." + +"And I'm afraid you've completely spoilt your clothes," she laughed, +looking at his wet, muddy trousers and boots. + +"Well, if I have, yours also are no further good." + +"Oh, my blouse will wash, and I shall send my skirt to the cleaners, and +it will come back like new," she answered. "Women's outdoor clothing +never suffers by a wetting. We'll get Mrs. Wyatt to dry them, and then +I'll get home again to my aunt in Woodnewton. Do you know the place?" + +"I fancy I passed through it this morning. One of those long, lean +villages, with a church at the end." + +"That's it--the dullest little place in all England, I believe." + +He was struck by her charm of manner. Though bedraggled and dishevelled, +she was nevertheless delightful, and treated her sudden immersion with +careless unconcern. + +Why had Krail attempted to get rid of her in that manner? What motive +had he? + +They reached the farmhouse, where Mrs. Wyatt, a stout, ruddy-faced +woman, detecting their approach, met them upon the threshold. "Lawks, +Miss Heyburn! why, what's happened?" she asked in alarm. + +"I fell into the river, and this gentleman fished me out. That's all," +laughed the girl. "We want to dry our things, if we may." + +In a few minutes, in bedrooms upstairs, they had exchanged their wet +clothes for dry ones. Then Edgar in the farmer's Sunday suit of black, +and Gabrielle in one of Mrs. Wyatt's stuff dresses, in the big folds of +which her slim little figure was lost, met again in the spacious +farmhouse-kitchen below. + +They laughed heartily at the ridiculous figure which each presented, and +drank the glasses of hot milk which the farmer's wife pressed upon them. + +Old Miss Heyburn had been Mrs. Wyatt's mistress years ago, when she was +in service, therefore she was most solicitous after the girl's welfare, +and truth to tell looked askance at the good-looking stranger who had +accompanied her. + +Gabrielle, too, was puzzled to know why Mr. Hamilton should be there. +That he now lived abroad "beside the Danube" was all the information he +had vouchsafed regarding himself, yet from certain remarks he had +dropped she was suspicious. She recollected only too vividly the +occasion when they had met last, and what had occurred. + +They sat together on the bench outside the house, enjoying the full +sunshine, while the farmer's wife chattered on. A big fire had been made +in the kitchen, and their clothes were rapidly drying. + +Hamilton, by careful questions, endeavoured to obtain from the girl some +information concerning her dealings with the man Krail. But she was too +wary. It was evident that she had some distinct object in concealing the +fact that he had deliberately flung her into the water after that heated +altercation. + +Felix Krail! The very name caused him to clench his hands. Fortunately, +he knew the truth, therefore that dastardly attempt upon the girl's life +should not go unpunished. As he sat there chatting with her, admiring +her refinement and innate daintiness, he made a vow within himself to +seek out that cowardly fugitive and meet him face to face. + +Felix Krail! What could be his object in ridding the world of the +daughter of Sir Henry Heyburn! What would the man gain thereby? He knew +Krail too well to imagine that he ever did anything without a motive of +gain. So well did he play his cards always that the police could never +lay hands upon him. Yet his "friends," as he termed them, were among the +most dangerous men in all Europe--men who were unscrupulous, and would +hesitate at nothing in order to accomplish the _coup_ which they had +devised. + +What was the _coup_ in this particular instance? Ay, that was the +question. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +OUTSIDE THE WINDOW + + +Late on the following afternoon Gabrielle was seated at the +old-fashioned piano in her aunt's tiny drawing-room, her fingers running +idly over the keys, her thoughts wandering back to the exciting +adventure of the previous morning. Her aunt was out visiting some old +people in connection with the village clothing club, therefore she sat +gloomily amusing herself at the piano, and thinking--ever thinking. + +She had been playing almost mechanically Berger's "Amoureuse" valse and +some dreamy music from _The Merry Widow_, when she suddenly stopped and +sat back with her eyes fixed out of the window upon the cottages +opposite. + +Why was Mr. Hamilton in that neighbourhood? He had given her no further +information concerning himself. He seemed to be disinclined to talk +about his recent movements. He had sprung from nowhere just at the +critical moment when she was in such deadly peril. Then, after their +clothes had been dried, they had walked together as far as the little +bridge at the entrance to Fotheringhay. + +There he had stopped, bent gallantly over her hand, congratulated her +upon her escape, and as their ways lay in opposite directions--she back +to Woodnewton and he on to Oundle--they had parted. "I hope, Miss +Heyburn, that we may meet again one day," he had laughed cheerily as he +raised his hat, "Good-bye." Then he had turned away, and had been lost +to view round the bend of the road. + +She was safe. That man whom she had known long ago under such strange +circumstances, whom she would probably never see again, had been her +rescuer. Of this curious and romantic fact she was now thinking. + +But where was Walter? Why had he not replied to her letter? Ah! that was +the one thought which oppressed her always, sleeping and waking, day and +night. Why had he not written? Would he never write again? + +She had at first consoled herself with the thought that he was probably +on the Continent, and that her letter had not been forwarded. But as the +days went on, and no reply came, the truth became more and more apparent +that her lover--the man whom she adored and worshipped--had put her +aside, had accepted her at her own estimate as worthless. + +A thousand times she had regretted the step she had taken in writing +that cruel letter before she left Glencardine. But it was all too late. +She had tried to retract; but, alas! it was now impossible. + +Tears welled in her splendid eyes at thought of the man whom she had +loved so well. The world had, indeed, been cruel to her. Her enemies had +profited by her inexperience, and she had fallen an unhappy victim of an +unscrupulous blackguard. Yes, it was only too true. She did not try to +conceal the ugly truth from herself. Yet she had been compelled to keep +Walter in ignorance of the truth, for he loved her. + +A hardness showed at the corners of her sweet lips, and the tears rolled +slowly down her cheeks. Then, bestirring herself with an effort, her +white fingers ran over the keys again, and in her sweet, musical voice +she sang "L'Heure d'Aimer," that pretty _valse chantée_ so popular in +Paris:-- + + Voici l'heure d'aimer, l'heure des tendresses; + Dis-moi les mots très doux qui vont me griser, + Ah! prends-moi dans tes bras, fais-moi des caresses; + Je veux mourir pour revivre sous ton baiser. + Emporte-moi dans un rêve amoureux, + Bien loin sur la terre inconnue, + Pour que longtemps, même en rouvrant les yeux, + Ce rêve continue. + + Croyons, aimons, vivons un jour; + C'est si bon, mais si court! + Bonheur de vivre ici-bas diminue + Dans un moment d'amour. + +The Hour of Love! How full of burning love and sentiment! She stopped, +reflecting on the meaning of those words. + +She was not like the average miss who, parrot-like, knows only a few +French or Italian songs. Italian she loved even better than French, and +could read Dante and Petrarch in the original, while she possessed an +intimate knowledge of the poetry of Italy from the mediaeval writers +down to Carducci and D'Annunzio. + +With a sigh, she glanced around the small room, with its old-fashioned +furniture, its antimacassars of the early Victorian era, its wax flowers +under their glass dome, and its gipsy-table covered with a +hand-embroidered cloth. It was all so very dispiriting. The primness of +the whatnot decorated with pieces of treasured china, the big +gilt-framed overmantel, and the old punch-bowl filled with pot-pourri, +all spoke mutely of the thin-nosed old spinster to whom the veriest +speck of dust was an abomination. + +Sighing still again, the girl turned once more to the old-fashioned +instrument, with its faded crimson silk behind the walnut fretwork, and, +playing the plaintive melody, sang an ancient serenade: + + Di questo cor tu m'hai ferito il core + A cento colpi, piu non val mentire. + Pensa che non sopporto piu il dolore, + E se segu cosi, vado a morire. + Ti tengo nella mente a tutte l'ore, + Se lavoro, se velio, o sto a dormre ... + E mentre dormo ancora un sonno grato, + Mi trovo tutto lacrime bagnato! + +While she sang, there was a rap at the front-door, and, just as she +concluded, the prim maid entered with a letter upon a salver. + +In an instant her heart gave a bound. She recognised the handwriting. It +was Walter's. + +The moment the girl had left the room she tore open the envelope, and, +holding her breath, read what was written within. + +The words were: + +"DEAREST HEART,--Your letter came to me after several wanderings. It has +caused me to think and to wonder if, after all, I may be mistaken--if, +after all, I have misjudged you, darling. I gave you my heart, it is +true. But you spurned it--under compulsion, you say! Why under +compulsion? Who is it who compels you to act against your will and +against your better nature? I know that you love me as well and as truly +as I love you yourself. I long to see you with just as great a longing. +You are mine--mine, my own--and being mine, you must tell me the truth. + +"I forgive you, forgive you everything. But I cannot understand what +Flockart means by saying that I have spoken of you. I have not seen the +man, nor do I wish to see him. Gabrielle, do not trust him. He is your +enemy, as he is mine. He has lied to you. As grim circumstance has +forced you to treat me cruelly, let us hope that smiling fortune will be +ours at last. The world is very small. I have just met my old friend +Edgar Hamilton, who was at college with me, and who, I find, is +secretary to some wealthy foreigner, a certain Baron de Hetzendorf. I +have not seen him for years, and yet he turns up here, merry and +prosperous, after struggling for a long time with adverse circumstances. + +"But, Gabrielle, your letter has puzzled and alarmed me. The more I +think of it, the more mystifying it all becomes. I must see you, and you +must tell me the truth--the whole truth. We love each other, dear heart, +and no one shall force you to lie again to me as you did in that letter +you wrote from Glencardine. You wish to see me, darling. You shall--and +you shall tell me the truth. My dear love, _au revoir_--until we meet, +which I hope may be almost as soon as you receive this letter.--My love, +my sweetheart, I am your own WALTER." + +She sat staring at the letter. He demanded an explanation. He intended +to come there and demand it! And the explanation was one which she dared +not give. Rather that she took her own life than tell him the ghastly +circumstances. + +He had met an old chum named Hamilton. Was this the Mr. Hamilton who had +snatched her from that deadly peril? The name of Hetzendorf sounded to +be Austrian or German. How strange if Mr. Hamilton her rescuer were the +same man who had been years ago her lover's college friend! + +She passed her white hand across her brow, trying to collect her senses. + +She had longed--ah, with such an intense longing!--for a response to +that letter of hers, and here at last it had come. But what a response! +He intended her to make confession. He demanded to know the actual +truth. What could she do? How should she act? + +Holding the letter in her hand, she glanced around the little room in +utter despair. + +He loved her. His words of reassurance brought her great comfort. But he +wished to know the truth. He suspected something. By her own action in +writing those letters she had aroused suspicion against herself. She +regretted, yet what was the use of regret? Her own passionate words had +revealed to him something which he had not suspected. And he was coming +down there, to Woodnewton, to demand the truth! He might even then be on +his way! + +If he asked her point-blank, what could she reply? She dare not tell him +the truth. There were now but two roads open--either death by her own +hand or to lie to him. + +Could she tell him an untruth? No. She loved him, therefore she could +not resort to false declarations and deceit. Better--far better--would +it be that she took her own life. Better, she thought, if Mr. Hamilton +had not plunged into the river after her. If her life had ended, Walter +Murie would at least have been spared the bitter knowledge of a +disgraceful truth. Her face grew pale and her mouth hardened at the +thought. + +She loved him with all the fierce passion of her young heart. He was her +hero, her idol. Before her tear-dimmed eyes his dear, serious face rose, +a sweet memory of what had been. Tender remembrances of his fond kisses +still lingered with her. She recollected how around her waist his strong +arm would steal, and how slowly and yet irresistibly he would draw her +in his arms in silent ecstasy. + +Alas! that was all past and over. They loved each other, but she was now +face to face with what she had so long dreaded--face to face with the +inevitable. She must either confess the truth, and by so doing turn his +love to hatred, or else remain silent and face the end. + +She reread the letter still seated at the piano, her elbows resting +inertly upon the keys. Then she lifted her pale face again to the +window, gazing out blankly upon the village street, so dull, so silent, +so uninteresting. The thought of Mr. Hamilton--the man who held a secret +of hers, and who only a few hours before had rescued her from the peril +in which Felix Krail had placed her--again recurred to her. Was it not +remarkable that he, Walter's old friend, should come down into that +neighbourhood? There was some motive in his visit! What could it be? He +had spoken of Hungary, a country which had always possessed for her a +strange fascination. Was it not quite likely that, being Walter's +friend, Hamilton on his return to London would relate the exciting +incident of the river? Had he seen Krail? And, if so, did he know him? + +Those two points caused her the greatest apprehension. Suppose he had +recognised Krail! Suppose he had overheard that man's demands, and her +defiant refusal, he would surely tell Walter! + +She bit her lip, and her white fingers clenched themselves in +desperation. + +Why should all this misfortune fall upon her, to wreck her young life? +Other girls were gay, careless, and happy. They visited and motored and +flirted and danced, and went to theatres in town and to suppers +afterwards at the Carlton or Savoy, and had what they termed "a ripping +good time." But to her poor little self all pleasure was debarred. Only +the grim shadows of life were hers. + +Her mind had become filled with despair. Why had this great calamity +befallen her? Why had she, by her own action in writing to her lover, +placed herself in that terrible position from which there was no +escape--save by death? + +The recollection of the Whispers--those fatal Whispers of +Glencardine--flashed through her distressed mind. Was it actually true, +as the countryfolk declared, that death overtook all those who overheard +the counsels of the Evil One? It really seemed as though there actually +was more in the weird belief than she had acknowledged. Her father had +scouted the idea, yet old Stewart, who had personally known instances, +had declared that evil and disaster fell inevitably upon any one who +chanced to hear those voices of the night. + +The recollection of that moonlight hour among the ruins, and the +distinct voices whispering, caused a shudder to run through her. She had +heard them with her own ears, and ever since that moment nothing but +catastrophe upon catastrophe had fallen upon her. + +Yes, she had heard the Whispers, and she could not escape their evil +influence any more than those other unfortunate persons to whom death +had come so unexpectedly and swiftly. + +A shadow passed the window, causing her to start. The figure was that of +a man. She rose from the piano with a cry, and stood erect, motionless, +statuesque. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +IS ABOUT THE MAISON LÉNARD + + +The big, rather severely but well-furnished room overlooked the busy +Boulevard des Capucines in Paris. In front lay the great white façade of +the Grand Hotel; below was all the bustle, life, and movement of Paris +on a bright sunny afternoon. Within the room, at a large mahogany table, +sat four grave-faced men, while a fifth stood at one of the long +windows, his back turned to his companions. + +The short, broad-shouldered man looking forth into the street, in +expectancy, was Monsieur Goslin. He had been speaking, and his words had +evidently caused some surprise, even alarm, among his companions, for +they now exchanged glances in silence. + +Three of the men were well-dressed and prosperous-looking; while the +fourth, a shrivelled old fellow, in faded clothes which seemed several +sizes too large for him, looked needy and ill-fed as he nervously chafed +his thin bony hands. + +Next moment they all began chatting in French, though from their +countenances it was plain that they were of various nationalities--one +being German, the other Italian, and the third, a sallow-faced man, had +the appearance of a Levantine. + +Goslin alone remained silent and watchful. From where he stood he could +see the people entering and leaving the Grand Hotel. He glanced +impatiently at his watch, and then paced the room, his hand thoughtfully +stroking his grey beard. Only half an hour before he had alighted at the +Gare du Nord, coming direct from far-off Glencardine, and had driven +there in an auto-cab to keep an appointment made by telegram. As he +paced the big room, with its dark-green walls, its Turkey carpet, and +sombre furniture, his companions regarded him in wonder. They +instinctively knew that he had some news of importance to impart. There +was one absentee. Until his arrival Goslin refused to say anything. + +The youngest of the four assembled at the table was the Italian, a +rather thin, keen-faced, dark-moustached man of refined appearance. +"_Madonna mia!_" he cried, raising his face to the Frenchman, "why, what +has happened? This is unusual. Besides, why should we wait? I've only +just arrived from Turin, and haven't had time to go to the hotel. Let us +get on. _Avanti!_" + +"Not until he is present," answered Goslin, speaking earnestly in +French. "I have a statement to make from Sir Henry. But I am not +permitted to make it until all are here." Then, glancing at his watch, +he added, "His train was due at Est Station at 4.58. He ought to be here +at any moment." + +The shabby old man, by birth a Pole, still sat chafing his chilly +fingers. None who saw Antoine Volkonski, as he shuffled along the +street, ever dreamed that he was head of the great financial house of +Volkonski Frères of Petersburg, whose huge loans to the Russian +Government during the war with Japan created a sensation throughout +Europe, and surely no casual observer looking at that little assembly +would ever entertain suspicion that, between them, they could +practically dictate to the money-market of Europe. + +The Italian seated next to him was the Commendatore Rudolphe Cusani, +head of the wealthy banking firm of Montemartini of Rome, which ranked +next to the Bank of Italy. Of the remaining two, one was a Greek from +Smyrna, and the other, a rather well-dressed man with longish grey hair, +Josef Frohnmeyer of Hamburg, a name also to conjure with in the +financial world. + +The impatient Italian was urging Goslin to explain why the meeting had +been so hastily summoned when, without warning, the door opened and a +tall, distinguished man, with carefully trained grey moustache, and +wearing a heavy travelling ulster, entered. + +"Ah, my dear Baron!" cried the Italian, jumping from his chair and +taking the new-comer's hand, "we were waiting for you." And he drew a +chair next to his. + +The man addressed tossed his soft felt travelling hat aside, saying, +"The 'wire' reached me at a country house outside Vienna, where I was +visiting. But I came instantly." And he seated himself, while the chair +at the head of the table was taken by the stout Frenchman. + +"Messieurs," Goslin commenced, and--speaking in French--began +apologising at being compelled to call them together so soon after their +last meeting. "The matter, however, is of such urgency," he went on, +"that this conference is absolutely necessary. I am here in Sir Henry's +place, with a statement from him--an alarming statement. Our enemies +have unfortunately triumphed." + +"What do you mean?" cried the Italian, starting to his feet. + +"Simply this. Poor Sir Henry has been the victim of treachery.--Those +papers which you, my dear Volkonski, brought to me in secret at +Glencardine a month ago have been stolen!" + +"Stolen!" gasped the shabby old man, his grey eyes starting from his +head; "stolen! _Dieu!_ Think what that means to us--to me--to my house! +They will be sold to the Ministry of Finance in Petersburg, and I shall +be ruined--ruined!" + +"Not only you will be ruined!" remarked the man from Hamburg, "but our +control of the market will be at an end." + +"And together we lose over three million roubles," said Goslin in as +quiet a voice as he could assume. + +The six men--those men who dealt in millions, men whose names, every one +of them, were as household words on the various Bourses of Europe and in +banking circles, men who lent money to reigning Sovereigns and to +States, whose interests were world-wide and whose influences were +greater than those of Kings and Ministers--looked at each other in blank +despair. + +"We have to face this fact, as Sir Henry points out to you, that at +Petersburg the Department of Finance has no love for us. We put on the +screw a little too heavily when we sold them secretly those three +Argentine cruisers. We made a mistake in not being content with smaller +profit." + +"Yes, if it had been a genuinely honest deal on their side," remarked +the Italian. "But it was not. In Russia the crowd made quite as great a +profit as we did." + +"And all three ships were sent to the bottom of the sea four months +afterwards," added Frohnmeyer with a grim laugh. + +"That isn't the question," Goslin said. "What we have now to face is the +peril of exposure. No one can, of course, allege that we have ever +resorted to any sharper practices than those of other financial groups; +but the fact of our alliance and our impregnable strength will, when it +is known, arouse the fiercest antagonism in certain circles." + +"No one suspects the secret of our alliance," the Italian ejaculated. +"It must be kept--kept at all hazards." + +Each man seated there knew that exposure of the tactics by which they +were ruling the Bourse would mean the sudden end of their great +prosperity. + +"But this is not the first occasion that documents have been stolen from +Sir Henry at Glencardine," remarked the Baron Conrad de Hetzendorf. "I +remember the last time I went there to see him he explained how he had +discovered his daughter with the safe open, and some of the papers +actually in her hands." + +"Unfortunately that is so," Goslin answered. "There is every evidence +that we owe our present peril to her initiative. She and her father are +on bad terms, and it seems more than probable that though she is no +longer at Glencardine she has somehow contrived to get hold of the +documents in question--at the instigation of her lover, we believe." + +"How do you know that the documents are stolen?" the Baron asked. + +"Because three days ago Sir Henry received an anonymous letter bearing +the postmark of 'London, E.C.,' enclosing correct copies of the papers +which our friend Volkonski brought from Petersburg, and asking what sum +he was prepared to pay to obtain repossession of the originals. On +receipt of the letter," continued Goslin, "I rushed to the safe, to find +the papers gone. The door had been unlocked and relocked by an unknown +hand." + +"And how does suspicion attach to the girl's lover?" asked the man from +Hamburg. + +"Well, he was alone in the library for half an hour about five days +before. He called to see Sir Henry while he and I were out walking +together in the park. It is believed that the girl has a key to the +safe, which she handed to her lover in order that he might secure the +papers and sell them in Russia." + +"But young Murie is the son of a wealthy man, I've heard," observed the +Baron. + +"Certainly. But at present his allowance is small," was Goslin's reply. + +"Well, what's to be done?" inquired the Italian. + +"Done?" echoed Goslin. "Nothing can be done." + +"Why?" they all asked almost in one breath. + +"Because Sir Henry has replied, refusing to treat for the return of the +papers." + +"Was that not injudicious? Why did he not allow us to discuss the affair +first?" argued the Levantine. + +"Because an immediate answer by telegraph to a post-office in Hampshire +was demanded," Goslin replied. "Remember that to Sir Henry's remarkable +foresight all our prosperity has been due. Surely we may trust in his +judicious treatment of the thief!" + +"That's all very well," protested Volkonski; "but my fortune is at +stake. If the Ministry obtains those letters they will crush and ruin +me." + +"Sir Henry is no novice," remarked the Baron. "He fights an enemy with +his own weapons. Remember that Greek deal of which the girl gained +knowledge. He actually prepared bogus contracts and correspondence for +the thief to steal. They were stolen, and, passing through a dozen +hands, were at last offered in Athens. The Ministry there laughed at the +thieves for their pains. Let us hope the same result will be now +obtained." + +"I fear not," Goslin said quietly. "The documents stolen on the former +occasion were worthless. The ones now in the hands of our enemies are +genuine." + +"But," said the Baron, "you, Goslin, went to live at Glencardine on +purpose to protect our poor blind friend from his enemies!" + +"I know," said the man addressed. "I did my best--and failed. The +footman Hill, knowing young Murie as a frequent guest at Glencardine, +the other day showed him into the library and left him there alone. It +was then, no doubt, that he opened the safe with a false key and secured +the documents." + +"Then why not apply for a warrant for his arrest?" suggested the +Commendatore Cusani. "Surely your English laws do not allow thieves to +go unpunished? In Italy we should quickly lay hands on them." + +"But we have no evidence." + +"You have no suspicion that any other man may have committed the +theft--that fellow Flockart, for instance? I don't like him," added the +Baron. "He is altogether too friendly with everybody at Glencardine." + +"I have already made full inquiries. Flockart was in Rome. He only +returned to London the day before yesterday. No. Everything points to +the girl taking revenge upon her father, who, I am compelled to admit, +has treated her with rather undue harshness. Personally, I consider +mademoiselle very charming and intelligent." + +They all admitted that her correspondence and replies to reports were +marvels of clear, concise instruction. Every man among them knew well +her neat round handwriting, yet only Goslin had ever seen her. + +The Frenchman was asked to describe both the girl and her lover. This he +did, declaring that Gabrielle and Walter were a very handsome pair. + +"Whatever may be said," remarked old Volkonski, "the girl was a most +excellent assistant to Sir Henry. But it is, of course, the old story--a +young girl's head turned by a handsome lover. Yet surely the youth is +not so poor that he became a thief of necessity. To me it seems rather +as though he stole the documents at her instigation." + +"That is exactly Sir Henry's belief," Goslin remarked with a sigh. "The +poor old fellow is beside himself with grief and fear." + +"No wonder!" remarked the Italian. "None of us would care to be betrayed +by our own daughters." + +"But cannot a trap be laid to secure the thief before he approaches the +people in Russia?" suggested the crafty Levantine. + +"Yes, yes!" cried Volkonski, his hands still clenched. "The Ministry +would give a hundred thousand roubles for them, because by their aid +they could crush me--crush you all. Remember, there are names +there--names of some of the most prominent officials in the Empire. +Think of the power of the Ministry if they held that list in their +hands!" + +"No," said the Baron in a clear, distinct voice, his grey eyes fixed +thoughtfully upon the wall opposite. "Rather think of our positions, of +the exultation of our enemies if this great combine of ours were exposed +and broken! Myself, I consider it folly that we have met here openly +to-day. This is the first time we have all met, save in secret, and how +do we know but some spy may be on the _boulevard_ outside noting who has +entered here?" + +"_Mille diavoli!_" gasped Cusani, striking the table with his fist and +sinking back into his chair. "I recollect I passed outside here a man I +know--a man who knows me. He was standing on the kerb. He saw me. His +name is Krail--Felix Krail!" + +"Is he still there?" cried the men, as with one accord they left their +chairs and dashed eagerly across to the window. + +"Krail!" cried the Russian in alarm. "Where is he?" + +"See!" the Italian pointed out, "see the man in black yonder, standing +there near the _kiosque_, smoking a cigarette. He is still watching. He +has seen us meet here!" + +"Ah!" said the Baron in a hoarse voice, "I said so. To meet openly like +this was far too great a risk. Nobody knew anything of Lénard et +Morellet of the Boulevard des Capucines except that they were +unimportant financiers. To-morrow the world will know who they really +are. Messieurs, we are the victims of a very clever ruse. We have been +so tricked that we have been actually summoned here and our identity +disclosed!" + +The five monarchs of finance stood staring at each other in absolute +silence. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +SURPRISES MR. FLOCKART + + +"Well, you and your friend Felix have placed me in a very pleasant +position, haven't you?" asked Lady Heyburn of Flockart, who had just +entered the green-and-white morning-room at Park Street. "I hope now +that you're satisfied with your blunder!" + +The man addressed, in a well-cut suit of grey, a fancy vest, and +patent-leather boots, still carrying his hat and stick in his hand, +turned to her in surprise. + +"What do you mean?" he asked. "I arrived from Paris at five this +morning, and I've brought you good news." + +"Nonsense!" cried the woman, starting from her chair in anger. "You +can't deceive me any longer." + +"Krail has discovered the whole game. The syndicate held a meeting at +the office in Paris. He and I watched the arrivals. We now know who they +are, and exactly what they are doing. By Jove! we never dreamed that +your husband, blind though he is, is head of such a smart and +influential group. Why, they're the first in Europe." + +"What does that matter? Krail wants money, so do we; but even with all +your wonderful schemes we get none!" + +"Wait, my dear Winnie, remain patient, and we shall obtain plenty." + +It was indeed strange for a woman within that smart town-house, and with +her electric brougham at the door, to complain of poverty. The house had +been a centre of political activity in the days before Sir Henry met +with that terrible affliction. The room in which the pair stood had been +the scene of many a private and momentous conference, and in the big +drawing-room upstairs many a Cabinet Minister had bent over the hand of +the fair Lady Heyburn. + +Into the newly decorated room, with its original Adams ceiling, its +dead-white panelling and antique overmantel, shone the morning sun, weak +and yellow as it always is in London in the spring-time. + +Lady Heyburn, dressed in a smart walking-gown of grey, pushed her fluffy +fair hair from her brow, while upon her face was an expression which +told of combined fear and anger. + +Her visitor was surprised. After that watchful afternoon in the +Boulevard des Capucines, he had sat in a corner of the Café Terminus +listening to Krail, who rubbed his hands with delight and declared that +he now held the most powerful group in Europe in the hollow of his hand. + +For the past six years or so gigantic _coups_ had been secured by that +unassuming and apparently third-rate financial house of Lénard et +Morellet. From a struggling firm they had within a year grown into one +whose wealth seemed inexhaustible, and whose balances at the Credit +Lyonnais, the Société Générale, and the Comptoir d'Escompte were +possibly the largest of any of the customers of those great +corporations. The financial world of Europe had wondered. It was a +mystery who was behind Lénard et Morellet, the pair of steady-going, +highly respectable business men who lived in unostentatious comfort, the +former at Enghien, just outside Paris, and the latter out in the country +at Melum. The mystery was so well and so carefully preserved that not +even the bankers themselves could obtain knowledge of the truth. + +Krail had, however, after nearly two years of clever watching and +ingenious subterfuge, succeeded, by placing the group in a "hole" in +calling them together. That they met, and often, was undoubted. But +where they met, and how, was still a complete mystery. + +As Flockart had sat that previous afternoon listening to Krail's +unscrupulous and self-confident proposals, he had remained in silent +wonder at the man's audacious attitude. Nothing deterred him, nothing +daunted him. + +Flockart had returned that night from Paris, gone to his chambers in +Half-Moon Street, breakfasted, dressed, and had now called upon her +ladyship in order to impart to her the good news. Yet, instead of +welcoming him, she only treated him with resentment and scorn. He knew +the quick flash of those eyes, he had seen it before on other occasions. +This was not the first time they had quarrelled, yet he, keen-witted and +cunning, had always held her powerless to elude him, had always +compelled her to give him the sums he so constantly demanded. That +morning, however, she was distinctly resentful, distinctly defiant. + +For an instant he turned from her, biting his lip in annoyance. When +facing her again, he smiled, asking, "Tell me, Winnie, what does all +this mean?" + +"Mean!" echoed the Baronet's wife. "Mean! How can you ask me that +question? Look at me--a ruined woman! And you----" + +"Speak out!" he cried. "What has happened?" + +"You surely know what has happened. You have treated me like the cur you +are--and that is speaking plainly. You've sacrificed me in order to save +yourself." + +"From what?" + +"From exposure. To me, ruin is not a matter of days, but of hours." + +"You're speaking in enigmas. I don't understand you," he cried +impatiently. "Krail and I have at last been successful. We know now the +true source of your husband's huge income, and in order to prevent +exposure he must pay--and pay us well too." + +"Yes," she laughed hysterically. "You tell me all this after you've +blundered." + +"Blundered! How?" he asked, surprised at her demeanour. + +"What's the use of beating about the bush?" asked her ladyship. "The +girl is back at Glencardine. She knows everything, thanks to your +foolish self-confidence." + +"Back at Glencardine!" gasped Flockart. "But she dare not speak. By +heaven! if she does--then--then--" + +"And what, pray, can you do?" inquired the woman harshly. "It is I who +have to suffer, I who am crushed, humiliated, ruined, while you and your +precious friend shield yourselves behind your cloaks of honesty. You are +Sir Henry's friend. He believes you as such--you!" And she laughed the +hollow laugh of a woman who was staring death in the face. She was +haggard and drawn, and her hands trembled with nervousness which she +strove in vain to repress. Lady Heyburn was desperate. + +"He still believes in me, eh?" asked the man, thinking deeply, for his +clever brain was already active to devise some means of escape from what +appeared to be a distinctly awkward dilemma. He had never calculated the +chances of Gabrielle's return to her father's side. He had believed that +impossible. + +"I understand that my husband will hear no word against you," replied +the tall, fair-haired woman. "But when I speak he will listen, depend +upon it." + +"You dare!" he cried, turning upon her in threatening attitude. "You +dare utter a single word against me, and, by Heaven! I'll tell what I +know. The country shall ring with a scandal--the shame of your attitude +towards the girl, and a crime for which you will be arraigned, with me, +before an assize-court. Remember!" + +The woman shrank from him. Her face had blanched. She saw that he was +equally as determined as she was desperate. James Flockart always kept +his threats. He was by no means a man to trifle with. + +For a moment she was thoughtful, then she laughed defiantly in his face. +"Speak! Say what you will. But if you do, you suffer with me." + +"You say that exposure is imminent," he remarked. "How did the girl +manage to return to Glencardine?" + +"With Walter's aid. He went down to Woodnewton. What passed between them +I have no idea. I only returned the day before yesterday from the South. +All I know is that the girl is back with her father, and that he knows +much more than he ought to know." + +"Murie could not have assisted her," Flockart declared decisively. "The +old man suspects him of taking those Russian papers from the safe." + +"How do you know he hasn't cleared himself of the suspicion? He may have +done. The old man dotes upon the girl." + +"I know all that." + +"And she may have turned upon you, and told the truth about the safe +incident. That's more than likely." + +"She dare not utter a word." + +"You're far too self-confident. It is your failing." + +"And when, pray, has it failed? Tell me." + +"Never, until the present moment. Your bluff is perfect, yet there are +moments when it cannot aid you, depend upon it. She told me one night +long ago, in my own room, when she had disobeyed, defied, and annoyed +me, that she would never rest until Sir Henry knew the truth, and that +she would place before him proofs of the other affair. She has long +intended to do this; and now, thanks to your attitude of passive +inertness, she has accomplished her intentions." + +"What!" he gasped in distinct alarm, "has she told her father the +truth?" + +"A telegram I received from Sir Henry late last night makes it only too +plain that he knows something," responded the unhappy woman, staring +straight before her. "It is your fault--your fault!" she went on, +turning suddenly upon her companion again. "I warned you of the danger +long ago." + +Flockart stood motionless. The announcement which the woman had made +staggered him. + +Felix Krail had come to him in Paris, and after some hesitation, and +with some reluctance, had described how he had followed the girl along +the Nene bank and thrown her into the deepest part of the river, knowing +that she would be hampered by her skirts and that she could not swim. +"She will not trouble us further. Never fear!" he had said. "It will be +thought a case of suicide through love. Her mental depression is the +common talk of the neighbourhood." + +And yet the girl was safe and now home again at Glencardine! He +reflected upon the ugly facts of "the other affair" to which her +ladyship sometimes referred, and his face went ashen pale. + +Just at the moment when success had come to them after all their +ingenuity and all their endeavours--just at a moment when they could +demand and obtain what terms they liked from Sir Henry to preserve the +secret of the financial combine--came this catastrophe. + +"Felix was a fool to have left his work only half-done," he remarked +aloud, as though speaking to himself. + +"What work?" asked the hollow-eyed woman eagerly. But he did not satisfy +her. To explain would only increase her alarm and render her even more +desperate than she was. + +"Did I not tell you often that, from her, we had all to fear?" cried the +woman frantically. "But you would not listen. And now I am--I'm face to +face with the inevitable. Disaster is before me. No power can avert it. +The girl will have a bitter and terrible revenge." + +"No," he cried quickly, with fierce determination. "No, I'll save you, +Winnie. The girl shall not speak. I'll go up to Glencardine to-night and +face it out. You will come with me." + +"I!" gasped the shrinking woman. "Ah, no. I--I couldn't. I dare not face +him. You know too well I dare not!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +DISCLOSES A SECRET + + +The grey mists were still hanging upon the hills of Glencardine, +although it was already midday, for it had rained all night, and +everywhere was damp and chilly. + +Gabrielle, in her short tweed skirt, golf-cape, and motor-cap, had +strolled, with Walter Murie at her side, from the house along the +winding path to the old castle. From the contented expression upon her +pale, refined countenance, it was plain that happiness, to a great +extent, had been restored to her. + +When he had gone to Woodnewton it was to fetch her back to Glencardine. +He had asked for an explanation, it was true; but when she had refused +one he had not pressed it. That he was puzzled, sorely puzzled, was +apparent. + +At first, Sir Henry had point-blank refused to receive his daughter. But +on hearing her appealing voice he had to some extent relented; and, +though strained relations still existed between them, yet happiness had +come to her in the knowledge that Walter's affection was still as strong +as ever. + +Young Murie had, of course, heard from his mother the story told by Lady +Heyburn concerning the offence of her stepdaughter. But he would not +believe a single word against her. + +They had been strolling slowly, and she had been speaking expressing her +heartfelt thanks for his action in taking her from that life of awful +monotony at Woodnewton. Then he, on his part, had pressed her soft hand +and repeated his promise of lifelong love. + +They had entered the old grass-grown courtyard of the castle, when +suddenly she exclaimed, "How I wish, Walter, that we might elucidate the +secret of the Whispers!" + +"It certainly would be intensely interesting if we could," he said, "The +most curious thing is that my old friend Edgar Hamilton, who is +secretary to the well-known Baron Conrad de Hetzendorf, tells me that a +similar legend is current in connection with the old château in Hungary. +He had heard the Whispers himself." + +"Most remarkable!" she exclaimed, gazing blankly around at the ponderous +walls about her. + +"My idea always has been that beneath where we are standing there must +be a chamber, for most mediaeval castles had a subterranean dungeon +beneath the courtyard." + +"Ah, if we could only find entrance to it!" cried the girl +enthusiastically. "Shall we try?" + +"Have you not often tried, and failed?" he asked laughingly. + +"Yes, but let's search again," she urged. "My strong belief is that +entrance is not to be obtained from this side, but from the glen down +below." + +"Yes, no doubt in the ages long ago the hill was much steeper than it +now is, and there were no trees or undergrowth. On that side it was +impregnable. The river, however, in receding, silted up much earth and +boulders at the bend, and has made the ascent possible." + +Together they went to a breach in the ponderous walls and peered down +into the ancient river-bed, now but a rippling burn. + +"Very well," replied Murie, "let us descend and explore." + +So they retraced their steps until, when about half-way to the house, +they left the path and went down to the bottom of the beautiful glen +until they were immediately beneath the old castle. + +The spot was remote and seldom visited. Few ever came there, for it was +approached by no path on that side of the burn, so that the keepers +always passed along the opposite bank. They had no necessity to +penetrate there. Besides, it was too near the house. + +Through the bracken and undergrowth, passing by big trees that in the +ages had sprung up from seedlings dropped by the birds or sown by the +winds, they slowly ascended to the frowning walls far above--the walls +that had withstood so many sieges and the ravages of so many centuries. + +Half a dozen times the girl's skirt became entangled in the briars, and +once she tore her cape upon some thorns. But, enjoying the adventure, +she went on, Walter going first and clearing a way for her as best he +could. + +"Nobody has ever been up here before, I'm quite certain," Gabrielle +cried, halting, breathless, for a moment. "Old Stewart, who says he +knows every inch of the estate, has never climbed here, I'm sure." + +"I don't expect he has," declared her lover. + +At last they found themselves beneath the foundations of one of the +flanking-towers of the castle walls, whereupon he suggested that if they +followed the wall right along and examined it closely they might +discover some entrance. + +"I somehow fear there will not be any door on the exposed side," he +added. + +The base of the walls was all along hidden by thick undergrowth, +therefore the examination proved extremely difficult. Nevertheless, +keenly interested in their exploration, the pair kept on struggling and +climbing until the perspiration rolled off both their faces. + +Suddenly, Walter uttered a cry of surprise. "Why, look here! This seems +like a track. People _have_ been up here after all!" + +And his companion saw that from the burn below, up through the bushes, +ran a narrow winding path, which showed little sign of frequent use. + +Walter went on before her, quickly following the path until it turned at +right-angles and ended before a low door of rough wood which filled a +small breach in the wall--a breach made, in all probability, at the last +siege in the early seventeenth century. + +"This must lead somewhere!" cried Walter excitedly; and, lifting the +roughly constructed wooden latch, he pushed the door open, disclosing a +cavernous darkness. + +A dank, earthy smell greeted their nostrils. It was certainly an uncanny +place. + +"By Jove!" cried Walter, "I wonder where this leads to?" And, taking out +his vestas, he struck one, and, holding it before him, went forward, +passing through the breach in the broken wall into a stone passage which +led to the left for a few yards and gave entrance to exactly what +Gabrielle had expected--a small, windowless stone chamber probably used +in olden days as a dungeon. + +Here they found, to their surprise, several old chairs, a rough table +formed of two deal planks upon trestles, and a couple of half-burned +candles in candlesticks which Gabrielle recognised as belonging to the +house. These were lit, and by their aid the place was thoroughly +examined. + +Upon the floor was a heap of black tinder where some papers had been +burnt weeks or perhaps months ago. There were cigar-ends lying about, +showing that whoever had been there had taken his ease. + +In a niche was a small tin box containing matches and fresh candles, +while in a corner lay an old newspaper, limp and damp, bearing a date +six months before. On the floor, too, were a number of pieces of +paper--a letter torn to fragments. + +They tried to piece it together, laying it upon the table carefully, but +were unsuccessful in discovering its import, save that it was in +Russian, from somebody in Odessa, and addressed to Sir Henry. + +Carrying the candles in their hands, they went into the narrow passage +to explore the subterranean regions of the old place. But neither way +could they proceed far, for the passage had fallen in at both ends and +was blocked by rubbish. The only exit or entrance was by that narrow +breach in the walls so cunningly concealed by the undergrowth and closed +by the rudely made door of planks nailed together. Above, in the stone +roof of the chamber, there was a wide crack running obliquely, and +through which any sound could be heard in the courtyard above. + +They remained in the narrow, low-roofed little cell for a full +half-hour, making careful examination of everything, and discussing the +probability of the Whispers heard in the courtyard above emanating from +that hidden chamber. + +For what purpose was the place used, and by whom? In all probability it +was the very chamber in which Cardinal Setoun had been treacherously +done to death. + +Though they made a most minute investigation they discovered nothing +further. Up to a certain point their explorations had been crowned by +success, yet the discovery rather tended to increase the mystery than +diminish it. + +That the Whispers were supernatural Gabrielle had all along refused to +believe. The question was, to what use that secret chamber was put? + +At last, more puzzled than ever, the pair, having extinguished the +candles, emerged again into the light of day, closing and latching the +little door after them. + +Then, following the narrow secret path, they found that it wound through +the bushes, and emerged by a circuitous way some distance along the +glen, its entrance being carefully concealed by a big lichen-covered +boulder which hid it from any one straying there by accident. So near +was it to the house, and so well concealed, that no keeper had ever +discovered it. + +"Well," declared Gabrielle, "we've certainly made a most interesting +discovery this morning. But I wonder if it really does solve the mystery +of the Whispers?" + +"Scarcely," Walter admitted. "We have yet to discover to whom the secret +of the existence of that chamber is known. No doubt the Whispers are +heard above through the crack in the roof. Therefore, at present, we had +better keep our knowledge strictly to ourselves." + +And to this the girl, of course, agreed. + +They found Sir Henry seated alone in the sunshine in one of the big +bay-windows of the drawing-room, a pathetic figure, with his blank, +bespectacled countenance turned towards the light, and his fingers +busily knitting to employ the time which, alas! hung so heavily upon his +hands. + +Truth to tell, with Flockart's influence upon him, he was not quite +convinced of the sincerity of either Gabrielle or Walter Murie. +Therefore, when they entered, and his daughter spoke to him; his +greeting was not altogether cordial. + +"Why, dear dad, how is it you're sitting here all alone? I would have +gone for a walk with you had I known." + +"I'm expecting Goslin," was the old man's snappy reply. "He left Paris +yesterday, and should certainly have been here by this time. I can't +make out why he hasn't sent me a 'wire' explaining the delay." + +"He may have lost his connection in London," Murie suggested. + +"Perhaps so," remarked the Baronet with a sigh, his fingers moving +mechanically. + +Murie could see that he was unnerved and unlike himself. He, of course, +was unaware of the great interests depending upon the theft of those +papers from his safe. But the old man was anxious to hear from Goslin +what had occurred at the urgent meeting of the secret syndicate in +Paris. + +Gabrielle was chatting gaily with her father in an endeavour to cheer +him up, when suddenly the door opened, and Flockart, still in his +travelling ulster, entered, exclaiming, "Good-morning, Sir Henry." + +"Why, my dear Flockart, this is really quite unexpected. I--I thought +you were abroad," cried the Baronet, his face brightening as he +stretched out his hand for his visitor to grasp. + +"So I have been. I only got back to town yesterday morning, and left +Euston last night." + +"Well," said Sir Henry, "I'm very glad you are here again. I've missed +you very much--very much indeed. I hope you'll make another long stay +with us at Glencardine." + +The man addressed raised his eyes to Gabrielle's. + +She looked him straight in the face, defiant and unflinching. The day of +her self-sacrifice to protect her helpless father's honour and welfare +had come. She had suffered much in silence--suffered as no other girl +would suffer; but she had tried to conceal the bitter truth. Her spirit +had been broken. She was obsessed by one fear, one idea. + +For a moment the girl held her breath. Walter saw the sudden change in +her countenance, and wondered. + +Then, with a calmness that was surprising, she turned to her father, and +in a clear, distinct voice said, "Dad, now that Mr. Flockart has +returned, I wish to tell you the truth concerning him--to warn you that +he is not your friend, but your very worst enemy!" + +"What is that you say?" cried the man accused, glaring at her. "Repeat +those words, and I will tell the whole truth about yourself--here, +before your lover!" + +The blind man frowned. He hated scenes. "Come, come," he urged, "please +do not quarrel. Gabrielle, I think, dear, your words are scarcely fair +to our friend." + +"Father," she said firmly, her face pale as death, "I repeat them. That +man standing there is as much your enemy as he is mine!" + +Flockart laughed satirically. "Then I will tell my story, and let your +father judge whether you are a worthy daughter," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +IN WHICH GABRIELLE TELLS A STRANGE STORY + + +Gabrielle fell back in fear. Her handsome countenance was blanched to +the lips. This man intended to speak--to tell the terrible truth--and +before her lover too! She clenched her hands and summoned all her +courage. + +Flockart laughed at her--laughed in triumph. "I think, Gabrielle," he +said, "that you should put an end to this deceit towards your poor blind +father." + +"What do you mean?" cried Walter in a fury, advancing towards Flockart. +"What has this question--whatever it is--to do with you? Is it your +place to stand between father and daughter?" + +"Yes," answered the other in cool defiance, "it is. I am Sir Henry's +friend." + +"His friend! His enemy!" + +"You are not my father's friend, Mr. Flockart," declared the girl, +noticing the look of pain upon the afflicted old gentleman's face. "You +have all along conspired against him for years, and you are actually +conspiring with Lady Heyburn at this moment." + +"You lie!" he cried. "You say this in order to shield yourself. You know +that your mother and I are aware of your crime, and have always shielded +you." + +"Crime!" gasped Walter Murie, utterly amazed. "What is this man saying, +dearest?" + +But the girl stood, blanched and rigid, her jaw set, unable to utter a +word. + +"Let me tell you briefly," Flockart went on. "Lady Heyburn and myself +have been this girl's best friends; but now I must speak openly, in +defence of the allegation she is making against me." + +"Yes, speak!" urged Sir Henry. "Speak and tell me the truth." + +"It is a painful truth, Sir Henry; would that I were not compelled to +make such a charge. Your daughter deliberately killed a young girl named +Edna Bryant. She poisoned her on account of jealousy." + +"Impossible!" cried Sir Henry, starting up. "I--I can't believe it, +Flockart. What are you saying? My daughter a murderess!" + +"Yes, I repeat my words. And not only that, but Lady Heyburn and myself +have kept her secret until--until now it is imperative that the truth +should be told to you." + +"Let me speak, dad--let me tell you----" + +"No," cried the old man, "I will hear Flockart." And, turning to his +wife's friend, he said hoarsely, "Go on. Tell me the truth." + +"The tragedy took place at a picnic, just before Gabrielle left her +school at Amiens. She placed poison in the girl's wine. Ah, it was a +terrible revenge!" + +"I am innocent!" cried the girl in despair. + +"Remember the letter which you wrote to your mother concerning her. You +told Lady Heyburn that you hated her. Do you deny writing that letter? +Because, if you do, it is still in existence." + +"I deny nothing which I have done," she answered. "You have told my +father this in order to shield yourself. You have endeavoured, as the +coward you are, to prejudice me in his eyes, just as you compelled me to +lie to him when you opened his safe and copied certain of his papers!" + +"You opened the safe!" he protested. "Why, I found you there myself!" + +"Enough!" she exclaimed quite coolly. "I know the dread charge against +me. I know too well the impossibility of clearing myself, especially in +the face of that letter I wrote to Lady Heyburn; but it was you and she +who entrapped me, and who held me in fear because of my inexperience." + +"Tell us the truth, the whole truth, darling," urged Murie, standing at +her side and taking her hand confidently in his. + +"The truth!" she said, in a strange voice as though speaking to herself. +"Yes, let me tell you! I know that it will sound extraordinary, yet I +swear to you, by the love you bear for me, Walter, that the words I am +about to utter are the actual truth." + +"I believe you," declared her lover reassuringly. + +"Which is more than anyone else will," interposed Flockart with a sneer, +but perfectly confident. It was the hour of his triumph. She had defied +him, and he therefore intended to ruin her once and for all. + +The girl was standing pale and erect, one hand grasping the back of a +chair, the other held in her lover's clasp, while her father had risen, +his expressionless face turned towards them, his hand groping until it +touched a small table upon which stood an old punch-bowl full of +sweet-smelling pot-pourri. + +"Listen, dad," she said, heedless of Flockart's remark. "Hear me before +you condemn me. I know that the charge made against me by this man is a +terrible one. God alone knows what I have suffered these last two years, +how I have prayed for deliverance from the hands of this man and his +friends. It happened a few months before I left Amiens. Lady Heyburn, +you'll recollect, rented a pretty flat in the Rue Léonce-Reynaud in +Paris. She obtained permission for me to leave school and visit her for +a few weeks." + +"I recollect perfectly," remarked her father in a low voice. + +"Well, there came many times to visit us an American girl named Bryant, +who was studying art, and who lived somewhere off the Boulevard Michel, +as well as a Frenchman named Felix Krail and an Englishman called +Hamilton." + +"Hamilton!" echoed Murie. "Was his name Edgar Hamilton--my friend?" + +"Yes, the same," was her quiet reply. Then she turned to Murie, and +said, "We all went about a great deal together, for it was summer-time, +and we made many pleasant excursions in the district. Edna Bryant was a +merry, cheerful girl, and I soon grew to be very friendly with her, +until one day Lady Heyburn, when alone with me, repeated in strict +confidence that the girl was secretly devoted to you, Walter." + +"To me!" he cried. "True, I knew a Miss Bryant long ago, but for the +past three years or so have entirely lost sight of her." + +"Lady Heyburn told me that you were very fond of the girl, and this, I +confess, aroused my intense jealousy. I believed that the girl I had +trusted so implicitly was unprincipled and fickle, and that she was +trying to secure the man whom I had loved ever since a child. I had to +return to school, and from there I wrote to Lady Heyburn, who had gone +to Dieppe, a letter saying hard things of the girl, and declaring that I +would take secret revenge--that I would kill her rather than allow +Walter to be taken from me. A month afterwards I again returned to +Paris. That man standing there"--she indicated Flockart--"was living at +the Hôtel Continental, and was a frequent visitor. He told me that it +was well known in London that Walter admired Miss Bryant, a declaration +that I admit drove me half-mad with jealousy." + +"It was a lie!" declared Walter. "I never made love to the girl. I +admired her, that's all." + +"Well," laughed Flockart, "go on. Tell us your version of the affair." + +"I am telling you the truth," she cried, boldly facing him. One day Lady +Heyburn, having arranged a cycling picnic, invited Mr. Hamilton, Mr. +Kratil, Mr. Flockart, Miss Bryant, and myself, and we had a beautiful +run to Chantilly, a distance of about forty kilometres, where we first +made a tour of the old château, and afterwards entered the cool shady +Fôret de Pontarmé. While the others went away to explore the paths in +the splendid wood I was left to spread the luncheon upon the ground, +setting before each place a half-bottle of red wine which I found in the +baskets. Then, when all was ready, I called to them, but there was no +response. They were all out of hearing. I left the spot, and searched +for a full twenty minutes or so before I discovered them. First I found +Mr. Krail and Mr. Flockart strolling together smoking, while the others +were on ahead. They had lost their way among the trees. I led them back +to the spot where luncheon was prepared; and, all of us being hungry, we +quickly sat down, chatting and laughing merrily. Of a sudden Miss Bryant +stared straight before her, dropped her glass, and threw up her arms. +'Heavens! Why--ah, my throat!' she shrieked. 'I--I'm poisoned!' + +"In an instant all was confusion. The poor girl could not breathe. She +tore at her throat, while her face became convulsed. We obtained water +for her, but it was useless, for within five minutes she was stretched +rigid upon the grass, unconscious, and a few moments later she was +still--quite dead! Ah, shall I ever forget the scene! The effect +produced upon us was appalling. All was so sudden, so tragic, so +horrible! + +"Lady Heyburn was the first to speak. 'Gabrielle,' she said, 'what have +you done? You have carried out the secret revenge which in your letter +you threatened!' I saw myself trapped. Those people had some motive in +killing the girl and placing this crime upon myself! I could not speak, +for I was too utterly dumfounded." + +"The fiends!" ejaculated Walter fiercely. + +"Then followed a hurried consultation, in which Krail showed himself +most solicitous on my behalf," the pale-faced girl went on. "Aided by +Flockart, I think, he scraped away a hole in a pit full of dead leaves, +and there the body must have been concealed just as it was. To me they +all took a solemn vow to keep what they declared to be my secret. The +bottle containing the wine from which the poor American girl had drunk +was broken and hidden, the plates and food swiftly packed up, and we at +once fled from the scene of the tragedy. With Krail wheeling the girl's +empty cycle, we reached the high road, where we all mounted and rode +back in silence to Paris. Ah, shall I ever rid myself of the memory of +that fatal afternoon?" she cried as she paused for breath. + +"Fearing that he might be noticed taking along the empty cycle, Krail +threw it into the river near Valmondois," she went on. "Arrived back at +the Rue Léonce-Reynaud, I protested that nothing had been introduced +into the wine. But they declared that, owing to my youth and the +terrible scandal it would cause if I were arrested, they would never +allow the matter to pass their lips, Mr. Hamilton, indeed, making the +extraordinary declaration that such a crime had extenuating +circumstances when love was at stake. I then saw that I had fallen the +victim of some clever conspiracy; but so utterly overcome was I by the +awful scene that I could make but faint protest. + +"Ah! think of my horrible position--accused of a crime of which I was +entirely innocent! The days slipped on, and I was sent back to Amiens, +and in due course came home here to dear old Glencardine. From that day +I have lived in constant fear, until on the night of the ball at +Connachan--you remember the evening, dad?--on that night Mr. Flockart +returned in secret, beckoned me out upon the lawn, and showed me +something which held me petrified in fear. It was a cutting from an +Edinburgh paper that evening reporting that two of the forest-guards at +Pontarmé had discovered the body of the missing Miss Bryant, and that +the French police were making active inquiries." + +"He threatened you?" asked Walter. + +"He told me to remain quiet, and that he and Lady Heyburn would do their +best to shield me. For that reason, dad," she went on, turning to the +blind man, "for that reason I feared to denounce him when I discovered +him with your safe open, for that reason I was compelled to take all the +blame and all your anger upon myself." + +The old man's brow knit. "Where is my wife?" he asked. "I must speak to +her before we go further. This is a very serious matter." + +"Lady Heyburn is still at Park Street," Flockart replied. + +"I will hear no more," declared the blind Baronet, holding up his hand, +"not another word until my wife is present." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +INCREASES THE INTEREST + + +"But, dad," cried Gabrielle, "I am telling you the truth! Cannot you +believe me, your daughter, before this man who is your enemy?" + +"Because of my affliction I am, it seems, deceived by every one," was +his hard response. + +To where they stood had come the sound of wheels upon the gravelled +drive outside, and a moment later Hill entered, announcing, "A gentleman +to see you very urgently, Sir Henry. He is from Baron de Hetzendorf." + +"From the Baron!" gasped the blind man. "I'll see him later." + +"Why, it may be Hamilton!" cried Murie; who, looking through the door, +saw his old friend in the corridor, and quickly called him in. + +As he faced Flockart he drew himself up. The attitude of them all made +it apparent to him that something unusual was in progress. + +"You've arrived at a very opportune moment, Hamilton," Murie said. "You +have met Miss Heyburn before, and also Flockart, I believe, at Lady +Heyburn's, in Paris." + +"Yes, but----" + +"Sir Henry," Walter said in a quiet tone, "this gentleman sent by the +Baron is his secretary, the same Mr. Edgar Hamilton of whom Gabrielle +has just been speaking." + +"Ah, then, perhaps he can furnish us with further facts regarding this +most extraordinary statement of my daughter's," the blind man exclaimed. + +"Gabrielle has just told her father the truth regarding a certain tragic +occurrence in the Forest of Pontarmé. Explain to us all you know, +Edgar." + +"What I know," said Hamilton, "is very quickly told. Has Miss Heyburn +mentioned the man Krail?" + +"Yes, I have told them about him," the girl answered. + +"You have, however, perhaps omitted to mention one or two small facts in +connection with the affair," he said. "Do you not remember how, on that +eventful afternoon in the forest, when searching for us, you first +encountered Krail walking with this man Flockart at some distance from +the others?" + +"Yes, I recollect." + +"And do you remember that when we returned to sit down to luncheon +Flockart insisted that I should take the seat which was afterwards +occupied by the unfortunate Miss Bryant? Do you recollect how I spread a +rug for her at that spot and preferred myself to stand? The reason of +their invitation to me to sit there I did not discover until afterwards. +That wine had been prepared for _me_, not for her." + +"For you!" the girl gasped, amazed. + +"Yes. The plot was undoubtedly this--" + +"There was no plot," protested Flockart, interrupting. "This girl killed +Edna Bryant through intense jealousy." + +"I repeat that there was a foul and ingenious plot to kill me, and to +entrap Miss Heyburn," Hamilton said. "It was, of course, clear that Miss +Heyburn was jealous of the girl, for she had written to her mother +making threats against Miss Bryant's life. Therefore, the plot was that +I should drink the fatal wine, and that Miss Gabrielle should be +declared to be the murderess, she having intended the wine to be +partaken of by the girl she hated with such deadly hatred. The marked +cordiality of Krail and Flockart that I should take that seat aroused +within me some misgivings, although I had never dreamed of this +dastardly and cowardly plot against me--not until I saw the result of +their foul handiwork." + +"It's a lie! You are trying to implicate Krail and myself! The girl is +the only guilty person. She placed the wine there!" + +"She did not!" declared Hamilton boldly. "She was not there when the +bottle was changed by Krail, but I was!" + +"If what you say is true, then you deliberately stood by and allowed the +girl to drink." + +"I watched Krail go to the spot where luncheon was laid out, but could +not see what he did. If I had done so I should have saved the girl's +life. You were a few yards off, awaiting him; therefore you knew his +intentions, and you are as guilty of that girl's tragic death as he." + +"What!" cried Flockart, his eyes glaring angrily, "do you declare, then, +that I am a murderer?" + +"You yourself are the best judge of your own guilt," answered Hamilton +meaningly. + +"I deny that Krail or myself had any hand in the affair." + +"You will have an opportunity of making that denial in a criminal court +ere long," remarked the Baron's secretary with a grim smile. + +"What," gasped Lady Heyburn's friend, his cheeks paling in an instant, +"have you been so indiscreet as to inform the police?" + +"I have--a week ago. I made a statement to M. Hamard of the Sûreté in +Paris, and they have already made a discovery which you will find of +interest and somewhat difficult to disprove." + +"And pray what is that?" + +Hamilton smiled again, saying, "No, my dear sir, the police will tell +you themselves all in due course. Remember, you and your precious friend +plotted to kill me." + +"But why, Mr. Hamilton?" inquired the blind man. "What was their +motive?" + +"A very strong one," was the reply. "I had recognised in Krail a man who +had defrauded the Baron de Hetzendorf of fifty thousand kroners, and for +whom the police were in active search, both for that and for several +other serious charges of a similar character. Krail knew this, and he +and his friend--this gentleman here--had very ingeniously resolved to +get rid of me by making it appear that Miss Gabrielle had poisoned me by +accident." + +"A lie!" declared Flockart fiercely, though his efforts to remain +imperturbed were now palpable. + +"You will be given due opportunity of disproving my allegations," +Hamilton said. "You, coward that you are, placed the guilt upon an +innocent, inexperienced girl. Why? Because, with Lady Heyburn's +connivance, you with your cunning accomplice Krail were endeavouring to +discover Sir Henry's business secrets in order, first, to operate upon +the valuable financial knowledge you would thus gain, and so make a big +_coup_; and, secondly, when you had done this, it was your intention to +expose the methods of Sir Henry and his friends. Ah! don't imagine that +you and Krail have not been very well watched of late," laughed +Hamilton. + +"Do you allege, then, that Lady Heyburn is privy to all this?" asked the +blind man in distress. + +"It is not for me to judge, sir," was Hamilton's reply. + +"I know! I know how I have been befooled!" cried the poor helpless man, +"befooled because I am blind!" + +"Not by me, Sir Henry," protested Flockart. + +"By you and by every one else," he cried angrily. "But I know the truth +at last--the truth how my poor little daughter has been used as an +instrument by you in your nefarious operations." + +"But----" + +"Hear me, I say!" went on the old man. "I ask my daughter to forgive me +for misjudging her. I now know the truth. You obtained by some means a +false key to my safe, and you copied certain documents which I had +placed there in order to entrap any who might seek to learn my secrets. +You fell into that trap, and though I confess I thought that Gabrielle +was the culprit, on Murie's behalf, I only lately found out that you and +your accomplice Krail were in Greece endeavouring to profit by knowledge +obtained from here, my private house." + +"Krail has been living in Auchterarder of late, it appears," Hamilton +remarked, "and it is evidently he who, gaining access to the house one +night recently, used his friend's false key, and obtained those +confidential Russian documents from your safe." + +"No doubt," declared Sir Henry. Then, again addressing Flockart, he +asked, "Where are those documents which you and your scoundrelly +accomplice have stolen, and for the return of which you are trying to +make me pay?" + +"I don't know anything about them," answered Flockart sullenly, his face +livid. + +"He'll know more about them when he is taken off by the two detectives +from Edinburgh who hold the extradition warrant," Hamilton remarked with +a grim smile. + +The fellow started at those words. His demeanour was that of a guilty +man. "What do you mean?" he gasped, white as death. "You--you intend to +give me into custody? If you do, I warn you that Lady Heyburn will +suffer also." + +"She, like Miss Gabrielle, has only been your tool," Hamilton declared. +"It was she who, under compulsion, has furnished you with means for +years, and whose association with you has caused something little short +of a scandal. Times without number she has tried to get rid of you and +your evil influence in this household, but you have always defied her. +Now," he said firmly, looking the other straight in the face, "you have +upon you those stolen documents which you have, by using an assumed name +and a false address, offered to sell back to their owner, Sir Henry. You +have threatened that if they are not purchased at the exorbitant price +you demand you will sell them to the Russian Ministry of Finance. That +is the way you treat your friend and benefactor, the man who is blind +and helpless! Come, give them back to Sir Henry, and at once." + +"You must ask Krail," stammered the man, now so cornered that all +further excuse or denial had become impossible. + +"That's unnecessary. I happen to know that those papers are in your +pocket at this moment, a fact which shows how watchful an eye we've been +keeping upon you of late. You have brought them here so that your friend +Krail may come to terms with Sir Henry for their repossession. He +arrived from London with you, and is at the 'Strathavon Arms' in the +village, where he stayed before, and is well known." + +"Flockart," demanded the blind man very seriously, "you have papers in +your possession which are mine. Return them to me." + +A dead silence fell. All eyes save those of Sir Henry were turned upon +the man who until that moment had stood so defiant and so full of +sarcasm. But in an instant, at mention of Krail's presence in +Auchterarder, his demeanour had suddenly changed. He was full of alarm. + +"Give them to me and leave my house," Sir Henry said, holding up his +thin white hand. + +"I--I will--on one condition: if I may be allowed to go." + +"We shall not prevent you leaving," was the Baronet's calm reply. + +The man fumbled nervously in the inner pocket of his coat, and at last +brought out a sealed and rather bulgy foolscap envelope. + +"Open it, Gabrielle, and see what is within," her father said. + +She obeyed, and in a few moments explained the various documents it +contained. + +"Then let the man go," her father said. + +"But, Sir Henry," cried Hamilton, "I object to this! Krail is down in +the village forming a plot to make you pay for the return of those +papers. He arrived from London by the same train as this man. If we +allow him to leave he will inform his accomplice, and both will escape." + +Murie had his back to the door, the long window on the opposite side of +the room being closed. + +"It was a promise of Sir Henry's," declared the unhappy adventurer. + +"Which will be observed when Krail has been brought face to face with +Sir Henry," answered Murie, at the same time calling Hill and one of the +gardeners who chanced to be working on the lawn outside. + +Then, with a firmness which showed that they were determined, Hamilton +and Murie conducted Flockart to a small upstairs room, where Hill and +the gardener, with the assistance of Stewart, who happened to have come +into the kitchen, mounted guard over him. + +His position, once the honoured guest at Glencardine, was the most +ignominious conceivable. But Sir Henry sat in gratification that at +least he had got back those documents and saved the reputation of his +friend Volkonski, as well as that of his co-partners. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +"THAT MAN'S VOICE!" + + +Stokes the chauffeur had driven Murie and Hamilton in the car down to +the village, where the last-named, after a conversation with the police +inspector, went to the "Strathavon Arms," together with two constables +who happened to be off duty, in plain clothes. + +They found Krail sitting in the bar, calmly smoking, awaiting a message +from his accomplice. + +Upon Hamilton's recognition he was, after a brief argument, arrested on +the charge of theft from Glencardine, placed in the car between the two +stalwart Scotch policemen, and conveyed in triumph to the castle, much, +of course, against his will. He demanded to be taken straight to the +police station; but as Sir Henry had ordered him to be brought to +Glencardine, and as Sir Henry was a magistrate, the inspector was bound +to obey his orders. + +The man's cruel, colourless eyes seemed to contract closer as he sat in +the car with his enemy Hamilton facing him. He had never dreamed that +they would ever meet again; but, now they had, he saw that the game was +up. There was no hope of escape. He was being taken to meet Sir Henry +Heyburn, the very last man in all the world he wished to face. His +sallow countenance was drawn, his lips were thin and bloodless, and upon +his cheeks were two red spots which showed that he was now in a deadly +terror. + +Gabrielle, who had been weeping at the knees of her father, heard the +whirr of the car coming up the drive; and, springing to the window, +witnessed the arrival of the party. + +A moment later, Krail, between the two constables, and with the local +inspector standing respectfully at the rear, stood in the big, long +library into which the blind man was led by his daughter. + +When all had assembled, Sir Henry, in a clear, distinct voice, said, "I +have had you arrested and brought here in order to charge you with +stealing certain documents from my safe yonder, which you opened by +means of a duplicate key. Your accomplice Flockart has given evidence +against you; therefore, to deny it is quite needless." + +"Whatever he has said to you is lies," the foreigner replied, his accent +being the more pronounced in his excitement. "I know nothing about it." + +"If you deny that," exclaimed Hamilton quickly, "you will perhaps also +deny that it was you who secretly poisoned Miss Bryant in the Pontarmé +Forest, even though I myself saw you at the spot; and, further, that a +witness has been found who actually saw you substitute the wine-bottles. +You intended to kill me!" + +"What ridiculous nonsense you are talking!" cried the accused, who was +dressed with his habitual shabby gentility. "The girl yonder, +mademoiselle, killed Miss Bryant." + +"Then why did you make that deliberate attempt upon my life at +Fotheringhay?" demanded the girl boldly. "Had it not been for Mr. +Hamilton, who must have seen us together and guessed that you intended +foul play, I should certainly have been drowned." + +"He believed that you knew his secret, and he intended, both on his own +behalf and on Flockart's also, to close your lips," Murie said. "With +you out of the way, their attitude towards your father would have been +easier; but with you still a living witness there was always danger to +them. He thought your death would be believed to be suicide, for he knew +your despondent state of mind." + +Sir Henry stood near the window, his face sphinx-like, as though turned +to stone. + +"She fell in," was his lame excuse. + +"No, you threw me in!" declared the girl. "But I have feared you until +now, and I therefore dared not to give information against you. Ah, God +alone knows how I have suffered!" + +"You dare now, eh?" he snarled, turning quickly upon her. + +"It really does not matter what you deny or what you admit," Hamilton +remarked. "The French authorities have applied for your extradition to +France, and this evening you will be on your way to the extradition +court at Bow Street, charged with a graver offence than the burglary at +this house. The Sûreté of Paris make several interesting allegations +against you--or against Felix Gerlach, which is your real name." + +"Gerlach!" cried the blind man in a loud voice, groping forward. "Ah," +he shrieked, "then I was not mistaken when--when I thought I recognised +the voice! That man's voice! _Yes, it is his--his!_" + +In an instant Krail had sprung forward towards the blind and defenceless +man, but his captors were fortunately too quick and prevented him. Then, +at the inspector's orders, a pair of steel bracelets were quickly placed +upon his wrists. + +"Gerlach! Felix Gerlach!" repeated the blind Baronet as though to +himself, as he heard the snap of the lock upon the prisoner's wrists. + +The fellow burst out into a peal of harsh, discordant laughter. He was +endeavouring to retain a defiant attitude even then. + +"You apparently know this man, dad?" Gabrielle exclaimed in surprise. + +"Know him!" echoed her father hoarsely. "Know Felix Gerlach! Yes, I have +bitter cause to remember the man who stands there before you accused of +the crime of murder." + +Then he paused, and drew a long breath. + +"I unmasked him once, as a thief and a swindler, and he swore to be +avenged," said the Baronet in a bitter voice. "It was long ago. He came +to me in London and offered me a concession which he said he had +obtained from the Ottoman Government for the construction of a railroad +from Smyrna to the Bosphorus. The documents appeared to be all right and +in order, and after some negotiations he sold the concession to me and +received ten thousand pounds in cash of the purchase-money in advance. A +week afterwards I discovered that, though the concession had been +granted by the Minister of Public Works at the Sublime Porte, it had +been sold to the Eckmann Group in Vienna, and that the papers I held +were merely copies with forged signatures and stamps. I applied to the +police, this man was arrested in Hamburg, and brought back to London, +where he was tried, and, a previous conviction having been proved +against him, sent to penal servitude for seven years. In the dock at the +Old Bailey he swore to be avenged upon me and upon my family." + +"And he seems to have kept his word," Walter remarked. + +"When he came out of prison he found me in the zenith of my political +career," Sir Henry went on. "On that well-remembered night of my speech +at the Albert Hall I can only surmise that he went there, heard me, and +probably became fiercely resentful that he had found a man cleverer than +himself. The fact remains that he must have gone in a cab in front of my +carriage to Park Street, alighted before me, and secreted himself within +the portico. It was midnight, and the street was deserted. My carriage +stopped, I got out, and it then drove on to the mews. I was in the act +of opening the door with my latch-key when, by an unknown hand, there +was flung full into my eyes some corrosive fluid which burned terribly, +and caused me excruciating pain. I heard a man's exultant voice cry, +'There! I promised you that, and you have it!' The voice I recognised as +that of the blackguard standing before you. Since that moment," he added +in a blank, hoarse voice, "I have been totally blind!" + +"You got me seven years!" cried the foreigner with a harsh laugh, "so +think yourself very lucky that I didn't kill you." + +"You placed upon me an affliction, a perpetual darkness, that to a man +like myself is almost akin to death," replied his accuser very gravely. +"Secure from recognition, you wormed yourself into the confidence of my +wife, for you were bent upon ruining her also; and you took as partner +in your schemes that needy adventurer Flockart. I now see it all quite +plainly. Hamilton had recognised you as Gerlach, and you therefore +formed a plot to get rid of him and throw the crime upon my poor +unfortunate daughter, even though she was scarcely more than a child. In +all probability, Lady Heyburn, in telling the girl the story regarding +Murie and Miss Bryant, believed it, and if so she would also suspect my +daughter to be the actual criminal." + +"This is all utterly astounding, dad!" cried Gabrielle. "If you knew who +it was who deliberately blinded you, why didn't you prosecute him?" + +"Because there was no witness of his dastardly act, my child. And I +myself never saw him. Therefore I was compelled to remain in silence, +and allow the world to believe my affliction due to natural causes," was +his blank response. + +The sallow-faced foreigner laughed again, laughed in the face of the man +whose eyesight he had so deliberately taken. He could not speak. What +had he to say? + +"Well," remarked Hamilton, "we have at least the satisfaction of knowing +that both this man and his accomplice will stand their trial for their +heartless crime in France, and that they will meet their just punishment +according to the laws of God and of man." + +"And I," added Walter, in a voice broken by emotion, as he again took +Gabrielle's hand tenderly, "have the supreme satisfaction of knowing +that my darling is cleared of a foul, dastardly, and terrible charge." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +CONTAINS THE CONCLUSION + + +After long consultation--Krail having been removed in custody back to +the village--it was agreed that the only charges that could be +substantiated against Flockart were those of complicity in the ingenious +attempt upon Hamilton's life by which poor Miss Bryant had been +sacrificed, and also in the theft of Sir Henry's papers. + +But was it worth while? + +At the Baronet's suggestion, he was allowed freedom to leave the +upstairs room where he had been detained by the three stalwart servants; +and, without waiting to speak to any one, he had made his way down the +drive. He had, as was afterwards found, left Auchterarder Station for +London an hour later. + +The painful impression produced upon everybody by Sir Henry's statement +of what had actually occurred on the night of the great meeting at the +Albert Hall having somewhat subsided, Murie mentioned to the blind man +the legend of the Whispers, and also the curious discovery which +Gabrielle and he had made earlier in the morning. + +"Ah," laughed the old gentleman a trifle uneasily, "and so you've +discovered the truth at last, eh?" + +"The truth--no!" Murie said. "That is just what we are so very anxious +to hear from you, Sir Henry." + +"Well," he said, "you may rest your minds perfectly content that there's +nothing supernatural about them. It was to my own advantage to cause +weird reports and uncanny legends to be spread in order to preserve my +secret, the secret of the Whispers." + +"But what is the secret, Sir Henry?" asked Hamilton eagerly. "We, +curiously enough, have similar Whispers at Hetzendorf. I've heard them +myself at the old château." + +"And of course you have believed in the story which my good friend the +Baron has caused to be spread, like myself: the legend that those who +hear them die quickly and suddenly," said the old man, with a smile upon +his grey face. "Like myself, he wished to keep away all inquisitive +persons from the spot." + +"But why?" asked Murie. + +"Well, truth to tell, the reason is very simple," he answered. "As we +are speaking here in the strictest privacy, I will tell you something +which I beg that neither of you will repeat. If you do it might result +in my ruin." + +Murie, Hamilton, and Gabrielle all gave their promise. + +"Then it is this," he said. "I am head of a group of the leading +financial houses in Europe, who, remaining secret, are carrying on +business in the guise of an unimportant house in Paris. The members of +the syndicate are all of them men of enormous financial strength, +including Baron de Hetzendorf, to whom our friend Hamilton here acts as +confidential secretary. The strictest secrecy is necessary for the +success of our great undertakings, which I may add are perfectly honest +and legitimate. Yet never, unless absolutely imperative, do we entrust +documents or letters to the post. Like the house of Rothschild, we have +our confidential messengers, and hold frequent meetings, no 'deal' being +undertaken without we are all of us in full accord. Monsieur Goslin acts +as confidential messenger, and brings me the views of my partners in +Paris, Petersburg, and Vienna. To this careful concealment of our plans, +or of the fact that we are ever in touch with one another, is due the +huge successes we have made from time to time--successes which have +staggered the Bourses of the Continent and caused amazement in Wall +Street. But being unfortunately afflicted as I am, I naturally cannot +travel to meet the others, and, besides, we are compelled always to take +fresh and most elaborate precautions in order to conceal the fact that +we are in connection with each other. If that one fact ever leaked out +it would at once stultify our endeavours and weaken our position. Hence, +at intervals, two or even three of my partners travel here, and I meet +them at night in the little chamber which you, Walter, discovered +to-day, and which until the present has never been found, owing to the +weird fables I have invented regarding the Whispers. To Hetzendorf, too, +once or twice a year, perhaps, the members pay a secret visit in order +to consult the Baron, who, as you perhaps may know, unfortunately enjoys +very precarious health." + +"Then meetings of Frohnmeyer, Volkonski, and the rest were held here in +secret sometimes?" echoed Hamilton in surprise. + +"On certain occasions, when it is absolutely necessary that I should +meet them," answered Sir Henry. "They stay at the Station Hotel in +Perth, coming over to Auchterarder by the last train at night and +leaving by the first train in the morning from Crieff Junction. They +never approach the house, for fear that servants or one or other of the +guests may recognise them, but go separately along the glen and up the +path to the ruins. When we thus meet, our voices can be heard through +the crack in the roof of the chamber in the courtyard above. On such +occasions I take good care that Stewart and his men are sent on a false +alarm of poachers to another part of the estate, while I can find my way +there myself with my stick," he laughed. "The Baron, I believe, acts on +the same principle at his château in Hungary." + +"Well," declared Hamilton, "so well has the Baron kept the secret that I +have never had any suspicion until this moment. By Jove! the invention +of the Whispers was certainly a clever mode of preserving the secret, +for nobody cares deliberately to court disaster and death, especially +among a superstitious populace like the villagers here and the Hungarian +peasantry." + +Both Gabrielle and her lover expressed their astonishment, the latter +remarking how cleverly the weird legend of the Whispers invented by Sir +Henry had been made to fit historical fact. + + * * * * * + +When the eight o'clock train from Stirling stopped at Auchterarder +Station that evening, a tall, well-dressed man alighted, and inquired +his way to the police-station. The porter knew by his accent that he was +a Londoner, but did not dream that he was "a gentleman from Scotland +Yard." + +Half an hour later, after a chat with the rural inspector, the pair went +along to the cell behind the small village police-station in order that +the stranger should read over to the prisoner the warrant he had brought +with him from London--the application of the French police for the +arrest and extradition of Felix Gerlach, _alias_ Krail, _alias_ Benoist, +for the wilful murder of Edna Mary Bryant in the Forest of Pontarmé, +near Chantilly. + +The inspector had related to the London detective the dramatic scene up +at Glencardine that day, and the officer of the Criminal Investigation +Department walked along to the cell much interested to see what manner +of man was this, who was even more bold and ingenious in his criminal +methods than many with whom his profession brought him daily into +contact. He had hoped that he himself would have the credit of making +the arrest, but found that the man wanted had already been apprehended +on the charge of burglary at Glencardine. + +The inspector unlocked the door and threw it open, but next instant the +startling truth became plain. + +Felix Krail lay dead upon the flagstones. He had taken his life by +poison--probably the same poison he had placed in the wine at the fatal +picnic--rather than face his accuser and bear his just punishment. + + * * * * * + +Many months have now passed. A good deal has occurred since that +never-to-be-forgotten day, but it is all quickly related. + +James Flockart, unmasked as he has been, never dared to return. The last +heard of him was six months ago, in Honduras, where for the first time +in his life he had been compelled to work for his living, and had, three +weeks after landing, succumbed to fever. + +At Sir Henry's urgent request, his wife came back to Glencardine a week +after the tragic end of Gerlach, and was compelled to make full +confession how, under the man's sinister influence, both she and +Flockart had been forced to act. To her husband she proved beyond all +doubt that she had been in complete ignorance of the truth concerning +the affair in the Pontarmé Forest until long afterwards. She had at +first believed Gabrielle guilty of the deed, but when she learned the +truth and saw how deeply she had been implicated it was impossible for +her then to withdraw. + +With a whole-hearted generosity seldom found in men, Sir Henry, after +long reflection and a desperate struggle with himself, forgave her, and +now has the satisfaction of knowing that she prefers quiet, healthful +Glencardine to the social gaieties of Park Street, Paris, or San Remo, +while she and Gabrielle have lately become devoted to each other. + +The secret syndicate, with Sir Henry Heyburn at its head, still +operates, for no word of its existence has leaked out to either +financial circles or to the public, while the Whispers of Glencardine +are still believed in and dreaded by the whole countryside across the +Ochils. + +Edgar Hamilton, though compelled to return to the Baron, whose right +hand he is, often travels to Glencardine with confidential messages, and +documents for signature, and is, of course, an ever-welcome guest. + +The unpretentious house of Lénard et Morellet of Paris now and then +effects deals so enormous that financial circles are staggered, and the +world stands amazed. The true facts of who is actually behind that +apparently unimportant firm are, however, still rigorously and +ingeniously concealed. + +Who would ever dream that that quiet, grey-faced man with the sightless +eyes, living far away up in Scotland, passing his hours of darkness with +his old bronze seals or his knitting, was the brain which directed their +marvellously successful operations! + +The Laird of Connachan died quite suddenly about seven months ago, and +Walter Murie succeeded to the noble estate. Gabrielle--sweet, almost +child-like in her simple tastes and delightful charm, and more devoted +to Walter than ever--is now little Lady Murie, having been married in +Edinburgh a month ago. + +At the moment that I pen these final lines the pair are spending a +blissful honeymoon at the great old château of Hetzendorf, high up above +the broad-flowing Danube, the Baron having kindly vacated the place and +put it at their disposal for the summer. Happy in each other's love and +mutual trust, they spend the long blissful days in company, wandering +often hand in hand, for when Walter looks into those wonderful eyes of +hers he sees mirrored there a perfect and abiding affection such as is +indeed given few men to possess. + +Together they have in secret explored the ruins of the ancient +stronghold, and, by directions given them by the Baron, have found there +a stone chamber by no means dissimilar to that at Glencardine. + +Meanwhile, Sir Henry Heyburn, impatient for his beloved daughter to be +again near him and to assist him, passes his weary hours with his +favourite hobby; his wife, full of sympathy, bearing him company. From +her, however, he still withholds one secret, and one only--the Secret of +the House of Whispers. +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10718 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..931a544 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #10718 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10718) diff --git a/old/10718-0.txt b/old/10718-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..768aaf3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10718-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10224 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10718 *** + +THE HOUSE OF WHISPERS + +By + +WILLIAM LE QUEUX + +1910 + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER I +THE LAIRD OF GLENCARDINE + +CHAPTER II +FROM OUT THE NIGHT + +CHAPTER III +SEALS OF DESTINY + +CHAPTER IV +SOMETHING CONCERNING JAMES FLOCKART + +CHAPTER V +THE MURIES OF CONNACHAN + +CHAPTER VI +CONCERNS GABRIELLE'S SECRET + +CHAPTER VII +CONTAINS CURIOUS CONFIDENCES + +CHAPTER VIII +CASTING THE BAIT + +CHAPTER IX +REVEALS A MYSTERIOUS BUSINESS + +CHAPTER X +DECLARES A WOMAN'S LOVE + +CHAPTER XI +CONCERNS THE WHISPERS + +CHAPTER XII +EXPLAINS SOME CURIOUS FACTS + +CHAPTER XIII +WHAT FLOCKART FORESAW + +CHAPTER XIV +CONCERNS THE CURSE OF THE CARDINAL + +CHAPTER XV +FOLLOWS FLOCKART'S FORTUNES + +CHAPTER XVI +SHOWS A GIRL'S BONDAGE + +CHAPTER XVII +DESCRIBES A FRENCHMAN'S VISIT + +CHAPTER XVIII +REVEALS THE SPY + +CHAPTER XIX +SHOWS GABRIELLE DEFIANT + +CHAPTER XX +TELLS OF FLOCKART'S TRIUMPH + +CHAPTER XXI +THROUGH THE MISTS + +CHAPTER XXII +BY THE MEDITERRANEAN + +CHAPTER XXIII +WHICH SHOWS A SHABBY FOREIGNER + +CHAPTER XXIV +"WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK" + +CHAPTER XXV +SHOWS GABRIELLE IN EXILE + +CHAPTER XXVI +THE VELVET PAW + +CHAPTER XXVII +BETRAYS THE BOND + +CHAPTER XXVIII +THE WHISPERS AGAIN + +CHAPTER XXIX +CONTAINS A FURTHER MYSTERY + +CHAPTER XXX +REVEALS SOMETHING TO HAMILTON + +CHAPTER XXXI +DESCRIBES A CURIOUS CIRCUMSTANCE + +CHAPTER XXXII +OUTSIDE THE WINDOW + +CHAPTER XXXIII +IS ABOUT THE MAISON LÉNARD + +CHAPTER XXXIV +SURPRISES MR. FLOCKART + +CHAPTER XXXV +DISCLOSES A SECRET + +CHAPTER XXXVI +IN WHICH GABRIELLE TELLS A STRANGE STORY + +CHAPTER XXXVII +INCREASES THE INTEREST + +CHAPTER XXXVIII +"THAT MAN'S VOICE!" + +CHAPTER XXXIX +CONTAINS THE CONCLUSION + + + + +THE HOUSE OF WHISPERS + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE LAIRD OF GLENCARDINE + + +"Why, what's the matter, child? Tell me." + +"Nothing, dad--really nothing." + +"But you are breathing hard; your hand trembles; your pulse beats +quickly. There's something amiss--I'm sure there is. Now, what is it? +Come, no secrets." + +The girl, quickly snatching away her hand, answered with a forced laugh, +"How absurd you really are, dear old dad! You're always fancying +something or other." + +"Because my senses of hearing and feeling are sharper and more developed +than those of other folk perhaps," replied the grey-bearded old +gentleman, as he turned his sharp-cut, grey, but expressionless +countenance to the tall, sweet-faced girl standing beside his chair. + +No second glance was needed to realise the pitiful truth. The man seated +there in his fine library, with the summer sunset slanting across the +red carpet from the open French windows, was blind. + +Since his daughter Gabrielle had been a pretty, prattling child of nine, +nursing her dolly, he had never looked upon her fair face. But he was +ever as devoted to her as she to him. + +Surely his was a sad and lonely life. Within the last fifteen years or +so great wealth had come to him; but, alas! he was unable to enjoy it. +Until eleven years ago he had been a prominent figure in politics and in +society in London. He had sat in the House for one of the divisions of +Hampshire, was a member of the Carlton, and one year he found his name +among the Birthday Honours with a K.C.M.G. For him everybody predicted a +brilliant future. The Press gave prominence to his speeches, and to his +house in Park Street came Cabinet Ministers and most of the well-known +men of his party. Indeed, it was an open secret in a certain circle that +he had been promised a seat in the Cabinet in the near future. + +Then, at the very moment of his popularity, a terrible tragedy had +occurred. He was on the platform of the Albert Hall addressing a great +meeting at which the Prime Minister was the principal speaker. His +speech was a brilliant one, and the applause had been vociferous. Full +of satisfaction, he drove home that night to Park Street; but next +morning the report spread that his brilliant political career had ended. +He had suddenly been stricken by blindness. + +In political circles and in the clubs the greatest consternation was +caused, and some strange gossip became rife. + +It was whispered in certain quarters that the affliction was not +produced by natural causes. In fact, it was a mystery, and one that had +never been solved. The first oculists of Europe had peered into and +tested his eyes, but all to no purpose. The sight had gone for ever. + +Therefore, full of bitter regrets at being thus compelled to renounce +the stress and storm of political life which he loved so well, Sir Henry +Heyburn had gone into strict retirement at Glencardine, his beautiful +old Perthshire home, visiting London but very seldom. + +He was essentially a man of mystery. Even in the days of his universal +popularity the source of his vast wealth was unknown. His father, the +tenth Baronet, had been sadly impoverished by the depreciation of +agricultural property in Lincolnshire, and had ended his days in the +genteel quietude of the Albany. But Sir Henry, without betraying to the +world his methods, had in fifteen years amassed a fortune which people +guessed must be considerably over a million sterling. + +From a life of strenuous activity he had, in one single hour, been +doomed to one of loneliness and inactivity. His friends sympathised, as +indeed the whole British public had done; but in a month the tragic +affair and its attendant mysterious gossip had been forgotten, as in +truth had the very name of Sir Henry Heyburn, whom the Prime Minister, +though his political opponent, had one night designated in the House as +"one of the most brilliant and talented young men who has ever sat upon +the Opposition benches." + +In his declining years the life of this man was a pitiful tragedy, his +filmy eyes sightless, his thin white fingers ever eager and nervous, his +hours full of deep thought and silent immobility. To him, what was the +benefit of that beautiful Perthshire castle which he had purchased from +Lord Strathavon a year before his compulsory retirement? What was the +use of the old ancestral manor near Caistor in Lincolnshire, or the +town-house in Park Street, the snug hunting-box at Melton, or the +beautiful palm-shaded, flower-embowered villa overlooking the blue +southern sea at San Remo? He remembered them all. He had misty visions +of their splendour and their luxury; but since his blindness he had +seldom, if ever, entered them. That big library up in Scotland in which +he now sat was the room he preferred; and with his daughter Gabrielle to +bear him company, to smooth his brow with her soft hand, to chatter and +to gossip, he wished for no other companion. His life was of the past, a +meteor that had flashed and had vanished for ever. + +"Tell me, child, what is troubling you?" he was asking in a calm, kind +voice, as he still held the girl's hand in his. The sweet scent of the +roses from the garden beyond filled the room. + +A smart footman in livery opened the door at that moment, asking, +"Stokes has just returned with the car from Perth, Sir Henry, and asks +if you want him further at present." + +"No," replied his blind master. "Has he brought back her ladyship?" + +"Yes, Sir Henry," replied the man. "I believe he is taking her to the +ball over at Connachan to-night." + +"Oh, yes, of course. How foolish I am! I quite forgot," said the Baronet +with a slight sigh. "Very well, Hill." + +And the clean-shaven young man, with his bright buttons bearing the +chevron _gules_ betwixt three boars' heads erased _sable_, of the +Heyburns, bowed and withdrew. + +"I had quite forgotten the ball at Connachan, dear," exclaimed her +father, stretching out his thin white hand in search of hers again. "Of +course you are going?" + +"No, dad; I'm staying at home with you." + +"Staying at home!" echoed Sir Henry. "Why, my dear Gabrielle, the first +year you're out, and missing the best ball in the county! Certainly not. +I'm all right. I shan't be lonely. A little box came this morning from +the Professor, didn't it?" + +"Yes, dad." + +"Then I shall be able to spend the evening very well alone. The +Professor has sent me what he promised the other day." + +"I've decided not to go," was the girl's firm reply. + +"I fear, dear, your mother will be very annoyed if you refuse," he +remarked. + +"I shall risk that, dear old dad, and stay with you to-night. Please +allow me," she added persuasively, taking his hand in hers and bending +till her red lips touched his white brow. "You have quite a lot to do, +remember. A big packet of papers came from Paris this morning. I must +read them over to you." + +"But your mother, my dear! Your absence will be commented upon. People +will gossip, you know." + +"There is but one person I care for, dad--yourself," laughed the girl +lightly. + +"Perhaps you're disappointed over a new frock or something, eh?" + +"Not at all. My frock came from town the day before yesterday. Elise +declares it suits me admirably, and she's very hard to please, you know. +It's white, trimmed with tiny roses." + +"A perfect dream, I expect," remarked the blind man, smiling. "I wish I +could see you in it, dear. I often wonder what you are like, now that +you've grown to be a woman." + +"I'm like what I always have been, dad, I suppose," she laughed. + +"Yes, yes," he sighed, in pretence of being troubled. "Wilful as always. +And--and," he faltered a moment later, "I often hear your dear dead +mother's voice in yours." Then he was silent, and by the deep lines in +his brow she knew that he was thinking. + +Outside, in the high elms beyond the level, well-kept lawn, with its +grey old sundial, the homecoming rooks were cawing prior to settling +down for the night. No other sound broke the stillness of that quiet +sunset hour save the solemn ticking of the long, old-fashioned clock at +the farther end of the big, book-lined room, with its wide fireplace, +great overmantel of carved stone with emblazoned arms, and its three +long windows of old stained glass which gave it a somewhat +ecclesiastical aspect. + +"Tell me, child," repeated Sir Henry at length, "what was it that upset +you just now?" + +"Nothing, dad--unless--well, perhaps it's the heat. I felt rather unwell +when I went out for my ride this morning," she answered with a frantic +attempt at excuse. + +The blind man was well aware that her reply was but a subterfuge. +Little, however, did he dream the cause. Little did he know that a dark +shadow had fallen upon the young girl's life--a shadow of evil. + +"Gabrielle," he said in a low, intense voice, "why aren't you open and +frank with me as you once used to be? Remember that you, my daughter, +are my only friend!" + +Slim, dainty, and small-waisted, with a sweet, dimpled face, and blue +eyes large and clear like a child's, a white throat, a well-poised head, +and light-chestnut hair dressed low with a large black bow, she +presented the picture of happy, careless youth, her features soft and +refined, her half-bare arms well moulded, and hands delicate and white. +She wore only one ornament--upon her left hand was a small signet-ring +with her monogram engraved, a gift from one of her governesses when a +child, and now worn upon the little finger. + +That face was strikingly beautiful, it had been remarked more than once +in London; but any admiration only called forth the covert sneers of +Lady Heyburn. + +"Why don't you tell me?" urged the blind man. "Why don't you tell me the +truth?" he protested. + +Her countenance changed when she heard his words. In her blue eyes was a +look of abject fear. Her left hand was tightly clenched and her mouth +set hard, as though in resolution. + +"I really don't know what you mean, dad," she responded with a hollow +laugh. "You have such strange fancies nowadays." + +"Strange fancies, child!" echoed the afflicted man, lifting his grey, +expressionless face to hers. "A blind man has always vague, suspicious, +and black forebodings engendered by the darkness and loneliness of his +life. I am no exception," he sighed. "I think ever of the +might-have-beens." + +"No, dear," exclaimed the girl, bending until her lips touched his white +brow softly. "Forget it all, dear old dad. Surely your days here, with +me, quiet and healthful in this beautiful Perthshire, are better, better +by far, than if you had been a politician up in London, ever struggling, +ever speaking, and ever bearing the long hours at the House and the +eternal stress of Parliamentary life?" + +"Yes, yes," he said, just a trifle impatiently. "It is not that. I don't +regret that I had to retire, except--well, except for your sake perhaps, +dear." + +"For my sake! How?" + +"Because, had I been a member of this Cabinet--which some of my friends +predicted--you would have had the chance of a good marriage. But buried +as you are down here instead, what chances have you?" + +"I want no chance, dad," replied the girl. "I shall never marry." + +A painful thought crossed the old man's mind, being mirrored upon his +brow by the deep lines which puckered there for a few brief moments. +"Well," he exclaimed, smiling, "that's surely no reason why you should +not go to the ball at Connachan to-night." + +"I have my duty to perform, dad; my duty is to remain with you," she +said decisively. "You know you have quite a lot to do, and when your +mother has gone we'll spend an hour or two here at work." + +"I hear that Walter Murie is at home again at Connachan. Hill told me +this morning," remarked her father. + +"So I heard also," answered the girl. + +"And yet you are not going to the ball, Gabrielle, eh?" laughed the old +man mischievously. + +"Now come, dad," the girl exclaimed, colouring slightly, "you're really +too bad! I thought you had promised me not to mention him again." + +"So I did, dear; I--I quite forgot," replied Sir Henry apologetically. +"Forgive me. You are now your own mistress. If you prefer to stay away +from Connachan, then do so by all means. Only, make a proper excuse to +your mother; otherwise she will be annoyed." + +"I think not, dear," his daughter replied in a meaning tone. "If I +remain at home she'll be rather glad than otherwise." + +"Why?" inquired the old man quickly. + +The girl hesitated. She saw instantly that her remark was an unfortunate +one. "Well," she said rather lamely, "because my absence will relieve +her of the responsibility of acting as chaperon." + +What else could she say? How could she tell her father--the kindly but +afflicted man to whom she was devoted--the bitter truth? His lonely, +dismal life was surely sufficiently hard to bear without the extra +burden of suspicion, of enforced inactivity, of fierce hatred, and of +bitter regret. So she slowly disengaged her hand, kissed him again, and +with an excuse that she had the menus to write for the dinner-table, +went out, leaving him alone. + +When the door had closed a great sigh sounded through the long, +book-lined room, a sigh that ended in a sob. + +The old man had leaned his chin upon his hands, and his sightless eyes +were filled with tears. "Is it the truth?" he murmured to himself. "Is +it really the truth?" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +FROM OUT THE NIGHT + + +There are few of the Perthshire castles that more plainly declare their +feudal origin and exhibit traces of obsolete power than does the great +gaunt pile of ruins known as Glencardine. Its situation is both +picturesque and imposing, and the stern aspect of the two square +baronial towers which face the south, perched on a sheer precipice that +descends to the Ruthven Water deep below, shows that the castle was once +the residence of a predatory chief in the days before its association +with the great Montrose. + +Two miles from the long, straggling village of Auchterarder, in the +centre of a fine, well-wooded, well-kept estate, the great ruined castle +stands a silent monument of warlike days long since forgotten. There, +within those walls, now overgrown with ivy and weeds, and where big +trees grow in the centre of what was once the great paved courtyard, +Montrose schemed and plotted, and, according to tradition, kept certain +of his enemies in the dungeons below. + +In the twelfth century the aspect of the deep glen was very different +from what it is to-day. In those days the Ruthven was a broad river, +flowing swiftly down to the Earn, and forming, by reason of a moat, an +effective barrier against attack. To-day, however, the river has +diminished into a mere burn meandering through a beautiful wooded glen +three hundred feet below, a glen the charms of which are well known +throughout the whole of Scotland, and where in summer tourists from +England endeavour to explore, but are warned back by Stewart, Sir +Henry's Highland keeper. + +A quarter of a mile from the great historic ruin is the modern castle, +built mainly of stone from the ancient structure early in the eighteenth +century, with oak-panelled rooms, many quaint gables, stained glass, and +long, echoing corridors--a residence well adapted for entertaining on a +lavish scale, the front overlooking the beautiful glen, and the back +with level lawns and stretch of undulating park, well wooded and full of +picturesque beauty. + +The family traditions and history of the old place and its owners had +induced Sir Henry Heyburn, himself a Fellow of the Society of +Antiquaries, to purchase it from Lord Strathavon, into whose possession +it had passed some forty years previously. + +History showed that William de Graeme or Graham, who settled in Scotland +in the twelfth century, became Lord of Glencardine, and the great castle +was built by his son. They were indeed a noble race, as their biographer +has explained. Ever fearless in their country's cause, they sneered at +the mandates from impregnable Stirling, and were loyal in every +generation. + +Glencardine was a stronghold feared by all the surrounding nobles, and +its men were full of valour and bravery. One story of them is perhaps +worth the telling. In the year 1490 the all-powerful Abbot of Inchaffray +issued an order for the collection of the teinds of the Killearns' lands +possessed by the Grahams of Glencardine in the parish of Monzievaird, of +which he was titular. The order was rigorously executed, the teinds +being exacted by force. + +Lord Killearn of Dunning Castle was from home at the time; but in his +absence his eldest son, William, Master of Dunning, called out a number +of his clansmen, and marched towards Glencardine for the purpose of +putting a stop to the abbot's proceedings. The Grahams of Glencardine, +having been apprised of their neighbour's intention, mustered in strong +force, and marched to meet him. The opposing forces encountered each +other at the north side of Knock Mary, about two miles to the south-west +of Crieff, while a number of the clan M'Robbie, who lived beside the +Loch of Balloch, marched up the south side of the hill, halting at the +top to watch the progress of the combat. The fight began with great fury +on both sides. The Glencardine men, however, began to get the upper hand +and drive their opponents back, when the M'Robbies rushed down the hill +to the succour of the Killearns. The tables were now turned. The Grahams +were unable to maintain their ground against the combined forces which +they had now to face, and fled towards Glencardine, taking refuge in the +Kirk of Monzievaird. The Killearns had no desire to follow up their +success any farther, but at this stage they were joined by Duncan +Campbell of Dunstaffnage, who had come across from Argyllshire to avenge +the death of his father-in-law, Robert of Monzie, who, along with his +two sons, had a short time before been killed by the Lord of +Glencardine. + +An arrow shot from the church fatally wounded one of Campbell's men, and +so enraged were the besiegers at this that they set fire to the +heather-thatched building. Of the one hundred and sixty human beings who +are supposed to have been in the church, only one young lad escaped, and +this was effected by the help of one of the Killearns, who caught the +boy in his arms as he leaped out of the flames. The Killearns did not go +unpunished for their barbarous deed. Their leader, with several of his +chief retainers, was afterwards beheaded at Stirling, and an assessment +was imposed on the Killearns for behoof of the wives and children of the +Grahams who had perished by their hands. + +The Killearn by whose aid the young Graham had been saved was forced to +flee to Ireland, but he afterwards returned to Scotland, where he and +his attendants were known by the name of "Killearn Eirinich" (or +Ernoch), meaning Killearn of Ireland. The estate which he held, and +which is situated near Comrie, still bears that name. The site of the +Kirk of Monzievaird is now occupied by the mausoleum of the family of +Murray of Ochtertyre, which was erected in 1809. When the foundations +were being excavated a large quantity of charred bones and wood was +found. + +The history of Scotland is full of references to the doings at +Glencardine, the fine home of the great Lord Glencardine, and of events, +both in the original stronghold and in the present mansion, which have +had important bearings upon the welfare of the country. + +In the autumn of 1825 the celebrated poetess Baroness Nairne, who had +been born at Gask, a few miles away, visited Glencardine and spent +several weeks in the pleasantest manner. Within those gaunt ruins of the +old castle she first became inspired to write her celebrated "Castell +Gloom," near Dollar: + + Oh Castell Gloom! thy strength is gone, + The green grass o'er thee growin'; + On Hill of Care thou art alone, + The Sorrow round thee flowin'. + + Oh Castell Gloom! on thy fair wa's + Nae banners now are streamin'; + The howlit flits amang thy ha's, + And wild birds there are screamin'. + + Oh, mourn the woe! oh, mourn the crime + Frae civil war that flows! + Oh, mourn, Argyll, thy fallen line, + And mourn the great Montrose! + + The lofty Ochils bright did glow, + Though sleepin' was the sun; + But mornin's light did sadly show + What ragin' flames had done! + Oh, mirk, mirk was the misty cloud + That hung o'er thy wild wood! + Thou wert like beauty in a shroud, + And all was solitude. + +A volume, indeed, could be written upon the history, traditions, and +superstitions of Glencardine Castle, a subject in which its blind owner +took the keenest possible interest. But, tragedy of it all, he had never +seen the lovely old domain he had acquired! Only by Gabrielle's +descriptions of it, as she led him so often across the woods, down by +the babbling burn, or over the great ivy-covered ruins, did he know and +love it. + +Every shepherd of the Ochils knows of the Lady of Glencardine who, on +rare occasions, had been seen dressed in green flitting before the +modern mansion, and who was said to be the spectre of the young Lady +Jane Glencardine, who in 1710 was foully drowned in the Earn by her +jealous lover, the Lord of Glamis, and whose body was never recovered. +Her appearance always boded ill-fortune to the family in residence. + +Glencardine was scarcely ever without guests. Lady Heyburn, a shallow +and vain woman many years younger than her husband, was always +surrounded by her own friends. She hated the country, and more +especially what she declared to be the "deadly dullness" of her +Perthshire home. That moment was no exception. There were half-a-dozen +guests staying in the house, but neither Gabrielle nor her father took +the slightest interest in any of them. They had been, of course, invited +to the ball at Connachan, and at dinner had expressed surprise when +their host's pretty daughter, the belle of the county, had declared that +she was not going. + +"Oh, Gabrielle is really such a wayward child!" declared her ladyship to +old Colonel Burton at her side. "If she has decided not to go, no power +on earth will persuade her." + +"I'm not feeling at all well, mother," the girl responded from the +farther end of the table. "You'll make nice excuses for me, won't you?" + +"I think it's simply ridiculous!" declared the Baronet's wife. "Your +first season, too!" + +Gabrielle glanced round the table, coloured slightly, but said nothing. +The guests knew too well that in the Glencardine household there had +always been, and always would be, slightly strained relations between +her ladyship and her stepdaughter. + +For an hour after dinner all was bustle and excitement; then, in the +covered wagonette, the gay party drove away, while Gabrielle, standing +at the door, shouted after them a merry adieu. + +It was a bright, clear, moonlit night, so beautiful indeed that, +twisting a shawl about her shoulders, she went to her father's den, +where he usually smoked alone, and, taking his arm, led him out for a +walk into the park over that gravelled drive where, upon such nights as +that, 'twas said that the unfortunate Lady Jane could be seen. + +When alone, the sightless man could find his way quite well with the aid +of his stick. He knew every inch of his domain. Indeed, he could descend +from the castle by the winding path that led deep into the glen, and +across the narrow foot-bridges of the rushing Ruthven Water, or he could +traverse the most intricate paths through the woods by means of certain +landmarks which only he himself knew. He was ever fond of wandering +about the estate alone, and often took solitary walks on bright nights +with his stout stick tapping before him. On rare occasions, however, +when, in the absence of her ladyship, he enjoyed the company of pretty +Gabrielle, they would wander in the park arm-in-arm, chatting and +exchanging confidences. + +The departure of their house-party had lifted a heavy weight from both +their hearts. It would be dawn before they returned. She loved her +father, and was never happier than when describing to him things--the +smallest objects sometimes--which he himself could not see. + +As they strolled on beneath the shadows of the tall elms, the stillness +of the night was broken only by the quick scurry of a rabbit into the +tall bracken or the harsh cry of some night-bird startled by their +approach. + +Before them, standing black against the night-sky, rose the quaint, +ponderous, but broken walls of the ancient stronghold, where an owl +hooted weirdly in the ivy, and where the whispering of the waters rose +from the deep below. + +"It's a pity, dear, that you didn't go to the dance," the old man was +saying, her arm held within his own. "You've annoyed your mother, I +fear." + +"Mother is quite happy with her guests, dad; while I am quite happy with +you," she replied softly. "Therefore, why discuss it?" + +"But surely it is not very entertaining for you to remain here with a +man who is blind. Remember, you are young, and these golden days of +youth will very soon pass." + +"Why, you always entertain and instruct me, dad," she declared; "from +you I've learnt so much archaeology and so much about mediaeval seals +that I believe I am qualified to become a Fellow of the Society of +Antiquaries, if women were admitted to fellowship." + +"They will be one day, my dear, if the Suffragettes are allowed their +own way," he laughed. + +And then, during the full hour they strolled together, their +conversation mostly consisted of questions asked by her father +concerning some improvements being made in one of the farms which she +had visited on the previous day, and her description of what had been +done. + +The stable-clock had struck half-past ten on its musical chimes before +they re-entered the big hall, and, being relieved by Hill of the wraps, +passed together into the library, where, from a locked cabinet in a +corner, Gabrielle took a number of business papers and placed them upon +the writing-table before her father. + +"No," he said, running his thin white hands over them, "not business +to-night, dear, but pleasure. Where is that box from the Professor?" + +"It's here, dad. Shall I open it?" + +"Yes," he replied. "That dear old fellow never forgets his old friend. +Never a seal finds its way into the collection at Cambridge but he first +sends it to me for examination before it is catalogued. He knows what +pleasure it is to me to decipher them and make out their +history--almost, alas! the only pleasure left to me, except you, my +darling." + +"Professor Moyes adopts your opinion always, dad. He knows, as every +other antiquary knows, that you are the greatest living authority on the +subject which you have made a lifetime study--that of the bronze seals +of the Middle Ages." + +"Ah!" sighed the old man, "if I could only write my great book! It is +the pleasure debarred me. Years ago I started to collect material; but +my affliction came, and now I can only feel the matrices and picture +them in my mind. I see through your eyes, dear Gabrielle. To me, the +world I loved so much is only a blank darkness, with your dear voice +sounding out of it--the only voice, my child, that is music to my ears." + +The girl said nothing. She only glanced at the sad, expressionless face, +and, cutting the string of the small packet, displayed three bronze +seals--two oval, about two inches long, and the third round, about one +inch in diameter, and each with a small kind of handle on the reverse. +With them were sulphur-casts or impressions taken from them, ready to be +placed in the museum at Cambridge. + +The old man's nervous fingers travelled over the surfaces quickly, an +expression of complete satisfaction in his face. + +"Have you the magnifying-glass, dear? Tell me what you make of the +inscriptions," he said, at the same time carefully feeling the curious +mediaeval lettering of one of the casts. + +At the same instant she started, rose quickly from her chair, and held +her breath. + +A man, tall, dark-faced, and wearing a thin black overcoat, had entered +noiselessly from the lawn by the open window, and stood there, with his +finger upon his lips, indicating silence. Then he pointed outside, with +a commanding gesture that she should follow. + +Her eyes met his in a glance of fierce resentment, and instinctively she +placed her hand upon her breast, as though to stay the beating of her +heart. + +Again he pointed in silent authority, and she as though held in some +mysterious thraldom, made excuse to the blind man, and, rising, followed +in his noiseless footsteps. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +SEALS OF DESTINY + + +Ten minutes later she returned, panting, her face pale and haggard, her +mouth hard-set. For a moment she stood in silence upon the threshold of +the open doors leading to the grounds, her hand pressed to her breast in +a strenuous endeavour to calm herself. She feared that her father might +detect her agitation, for he was so quick in discovering in her the +slightest unusual emotion. She glanced behind her with an expression +full of fear, as though dreading the reappearance of that man who had +compelled her to follow him out into the night. Then she looked at her +father, who, still seated motionless with his back to her, was busy with +his fingers upon something on the blotting-pad before him. + +In that brief absence her countenance had entirely changed. She was pale +to the lips, with drawn brows, while about her mouth played a hard, +bitter expression, as though her mind were bent upon some desperate +resolve. + +That the man who had come there by stealth was no stranger was evident; +yet that between them was some deep-rooted enmity was equally apparent. +Nevertheless, he held her irresistibly within his toils. His +clean-shaven face was a distinctly evil one. His eyes were set too close +together, and in his physiognomy was something unscrupulous and +relentless. He was not the man for a woman to trust. + +She stepped back from the threshold, and for a few seconds halted +outside, her ears strained to catch any sound. Then, as though +reassured, she pushed the chestnut hair from her hot, fevered brow, held +her breath with strenuous effort, and, re-entering the library, advanced +to her father's side. + +"I wondered where you had gone, dear," he said in his low, calm voice, +as he detected her presence. "I hoped you would not leave me for long, +for it is not very often we enjoy an evening so entirely alone as +to-night." + +"Leave you, dear old dad! Why, of course not!" She laughed gaily, as +though nothing had occurred to disturb her peace of mind. "We were just +about to look at those seals Professor Moyes sent you to-day, weren't +we? Here they are;" and she placed them before the helpless and +afflicted man, endeavouring to remain undisturbed, and taking a chair at +his side, as was her habit when they sat together. + +"Yes," he said cheerfully. "Let us see what they are." + +The first of the yellow sulphur-casts which he examined bore the +full-length figure of an abbot, with mitre and crosier, in the act of +giving his blessing. Behind him were three circular towers with pointed +roofs surmounted by crosses, while around, in bold early Gothic letters, +ran the inscription + ++ S. BENEDITI . ABBATIS . SANTI . AMBROSII . D'RANCIA + + +Slowly and with great care his fingers travelled over the raised letters +and design of the oval cast. Then, having also examined the battered old +bronze matrix, he said, "A most excellent specimen, and in first-class +preservation, too! I wonder where it has been found? In Italy, without +doubt." + +"What do you make it out to be, dad?" asked the girl, seated in the +chair at his side and as interested in the little antiquity as he was +himself. + +"Thirteenth century, my dear--early thirteenth century," he declared +without hesitation. "Genuine, quite genuine, no doubt. The matrix shows +signs of considerable wear. Is there much patina upon it?" he asked. + +She turned it over, displaying that thick green corrosion which bronze +acquires only by great age. + +"Yes, quite a lot, dad. The raised portion at the back is pierced by a +hole very much worn." + +"Worn by the thong by which it was attached to the girdle of successive +abbots through centuries," he declared. "From its inscription, it is the +seal of the Abbot Benedict of the Monastery of St. Ambrose, of Rancia, +in Lombardy. Let me think, now. We should find the history of that house +probably in Sassolini's _Memorials_. Will you get it down, dear?--top +shelf of the fifth case, on the left." + +Though blind, he knew just where he could put his hand upon all his most +cherished volumes, and woe betide any one who put a volume back in its +wrong place! + +Gabrielle rose, and, obtaining the steps, reached down the great +leather-bound quarto book, which she carried to a reading-desk and at +once searched the index. + +The work was in Italian, a language which she knew fairly well; and +after ten minutes or so, during which time the blind man continued +slowly to trace the inscription with his finger-tips, she said, "Here it +is, dad. 'Rancia, near Cremona. The religious brotherhood was founded +there in 1132, and the Abbot Benedict was third abbot, from 1218 to +1231. The church still exists. The magnificent pulpit in marble, +embellished with mosaics, presented in 1272, rests on six columns +supported by lions, with an inscription: "_Nicolaus de Montava +marmorarius hoc opus fecit._" Opposite it is the ambo (1272), in a +simple style, with a representation of Jonah being swallowed by a whale. +In the choir is the throne adorned by mosaics, and the Cappella di San +Pantaleone contains the blood of the saint, together with some relics of +the Abbot Benedict. The cloisters still exist, though, of course, the +monastery is now suppressed.'" + +"And this," remarked Sir Henry, turning over the old bronze seal in his +hand, "belonged to the Abbot Ambrose six hundred and fifty years ago!" + +"Yes, dad," declared the girl, returning to his side and taking the +matrix herself to examine it under the green-shaded reading-lamp. "The +study of seals is most interesting. It carries one back into the dim +ages. I hope the Professor will allow you to keep these casts for your +collection." + +"Yes, I know he will," responded the old Baronet. "He is well aware what +a deep interest I take in my hobby." + +"And also that you are one of the first authorities in the world upon +the subject," added his daughter. + +The old man sighed. Would that he could see with his eyes once again; +for, after all, the sense of touch was but a poor substitute for that of +sight! + +He drew towards him the impression of the second of the oval seals. The +centre was divided into two portions. Above was the half-length figure +of a saint holding a closed book in his hand, and below was a youth with +long hands in the act of adoration. Between them was a scroll upon which +was written: "Sc. Martine O.P.N.," while around the seal were the words +in Gothic characters: + ++ SIGIL . HEINRICHI . PLEBANI . D' DOELSC'H + + +"This is fourteenth century," pronounced the Baronet, "and is from +Dulcigno, on the Adriatic--the seal of Henry, the vicar of the church of +that place. From the engraving and style," he said, still fingering it +with great care, now and then turning to the matrix in order to satisfy +himself, "I should place it as having been executed about 1350. But it +is really a very beautiful specimen, done at a time when the art of +seal-engraving was at its height. No engraver could to-day turn out a +more ornate and at the same time bold design. Moyes is really very +fortunate in securing this. You must write, my dear, and ask him how +these latest treasures came into his hands." + +At his request she got down another of the ponderous volumes of +Sassolini from the high shelf, and read to him, translating from the +Italian the brief notice of the ancient church of Dulcigno, which, it +appeared, had been built in the Lombard-Norman style of the eleventh +century, while the campanile, with columns from Paestum, dated from +1276. + +The third seal, the circular one, was larger than the rest, being quite +two inches across. In the centre of the top half was the Madonna with +Child, seated, a male and female figure on either side. Below were three +female figures on either side, the two scenes being divided by a festoon +of flowers, while around the edge ran in somewhat more modern +characters--those of the early sixteenth century--the following: + ++ SIGILLVM . VICARIS . GENERALIS . ORDINIS . BEATA . MARIA . D' MON . +CARMEL + + +"This," declared Sir Henry, after a long and most minute examination, +"is a treasure probably unequalled in the collection at Cambridge, being +the actual seal of the Vicar-General of the Carmelite order. Its date I +should place at about 1150. Look well, dear, at those flower garlands; +how beautifully they are engraved! Seal-making is, alas! to-day a lost +art. We have only crude and heavy attempts. The company seal seems +to-day the only thing the engraver can turn out--those machines which +emboss upon a big red wafer." And his busy fingers were continuously +feeling the great circular bronze matrix, and a moment afterwards its +sulphur-cast. + +He was an enthusiastic antiquary, and long ago, in the days when the +world was light, had read papers before the Society of Antiquaries at +Burlington House upon mediaeval seals and upon the early Latin codices. +Nowadays, however, Gabrielle acted as his eyes; and so devoted was she +to her father that she took a keen interest in his dry-as-dust hobbies, +so that after his long tuition she could decipher and read a +twelfth-century Latin manuscript, on its scrap of yellow, crinkled +parchment, and with all its puzzling abbreviations, almost as well as +any professor of palaeography at the universities, while inscriptions +upon Gothic seals were to her as plain as a paragraph in a newspaper. +More than once, white-haired, spectacled professors who came to +Glencardine as her father's guests were amazed at her intelligent +conversation upon points which were quite abstruse. Indeed, she had no +idea of the remarkable extent of her own antiquarian knowledge, all of +it gathered from the talented man whose affliction had kept her so close +at his side. + +For quite an hour her father fingered the three seal-impressions, +discussing them with her in the language of a savant. She herself +examined them minutely and expressed opinions. Now and then she glanced +apprehensively to that open window. He pointed out to her where she was +wrong in her estimate of the design of the circular one, explaining a +technical and little-known detail concerning the seals of the Carmelite +order. + +From the window a cool breath of the night-wind came in, fanning the +curtains and carrying with it the sweet scent of the flowers without. + +"How refreshing!" exclaimed the old man, drawing in a deep breath. "The +night is very close, Gabrielle, dear. I fear we shall have thunder." + +"There was lightning only a moment ago," explained the girl. "Shall I +put the casts into your collection, dad?" + +"Yes, dear. Moyes no doubt intends that I should keep them." + +Gabrielle rose, and, passing across to a large cabinet with many shallow +drawers, she opened one, displaying a tray full of casts of seals, each +neatly arranged, with its inscription and translation placed beneath, +all in her own clear handwriting. + +Some of the drawers contained the matrices as well as the casts; but as +matrices of mediaeval seals are rarities, and seldom found anywhere save +in the chief public museums, it is no wonder that the bulk of private +collections consist of impressions. + +Presently, at the Baronet's suggestion, she closed and locked the +cabinet, and then took up a bundle of business documents, which she +commenced to sort out and arrange. + +She acted as her father's private secretary, and therefore knew much of +his affairs. But many things were to her a complete mystery, be it said. +Though devoted to her father, she nevertheless sometimes became filled +with a vague suspicion that the source of his great income was not +altogether an open and honest one. The papers and letters she read to +him often contained veiled information which sorely puzzled her, and +which caused her many hours of wonder and reflection. Her father lived +alone, with only her as companion. Her stepmother, a young, +good-looking, and giddy woman, never dreamed the truth. + +What would she do, how would she act, Gabrielle wondered, if ever she +gained sight of some of those private papers kept locked in the cavity +beyond the black steel door concealed by the false bookcase at the +farther end of the fine old restful room? + +The papers she handled had been taken from the safe by Sir Henry +himself. And they contained a man's secret. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +SOMETHING CONCERNING JAMES FLOCKART + + +In the spreading dawn the house party had returned from Connachan and +had ascended to their rooms, weary with the night's revelry, the men +with shirt-fronts crumpled and ties awry, the women with hair +disordered, and in some cases with flimsy skirts torn in the mazes of +the dance. Yet all were merry and full of satisfaction at what one young +man from town had declared to be "an awfully ripping evening." All +retired at once--all save the hostess and one of her male guests, the +man who had entered the library by stealth earlier in the evening and +had called Gabrielle outside. + +Lady Heyburn and her visitor, James Flockart, had managed to slip away +from the others, and now stood together in the library, into which the +grey light of dawn was at that moment slowly creeping. + +He drew up one of the blinds to admit the light; and there, away over +the hills beyond, the glen showed the red flush that heralded the sun's +coming. Then, returning to where stood the young and attractive woman in +pale pink chiffon, with diamonds on her neck and a star in her fair +hair, he looked her straight in the face and asked, "Well, and what have +you decided?" + +She raised her eyes to his, but made no reply. She was hesitating. + +The gems upon her were heirlooms of the Heyburn family, and in that grey +light looked cold and glassy. The powder and the slight touch of carmine +upon her cheeks, which at night had served to heighten her beauty, now +gave her an appearance of painted artificiality. She was undeniably a +pretty woman, and surely required no artificial aids to beauty. About +thirty-three, yet she looked five years younger; while her husband was +twenty years senior to herself. She still retained a figure so girlish +that most people took her for Gabrielle's elder sister, while in the +matter of dress she was admitted in society to be one of the leaders of +fashion. Her hair was of that rare copper-gold tint, her features +regular, with a slightly protruding chin, soft eyes, and cheeks perfect +in their contour. Society knew her as a gay, reckless, giddy woman, who, +regardless of the terrible affliction which had fallen upon the +brilliant man who was her husband, surrounded herself with a circle of +friends of the same type as herself, and who thoroughly enjoyed her life +regardless of any gossip or of the malignant statements by women who +envied her. + +Men were fond of "Winnie Heyburn," as they called her, and always voted +her "good fun." They pitied poor Sir Henry; but, after all, he was +blind, and preferred his hobbies of collecting old seals and dusty +parchment manuscripts to dances, bridge-parties, theatres, aero shows at +Ranelagh, and suppers at the Carlton or Savoy. + +Like most wealthy women of her type, she had a wide circle of male +friends. Younger men declared her to be "a real pal," and with some of +the older beaux she would flirt and be amused by their flattering +speeches. + +Gabrielle's mother, the second daughter of Lord Buckhurst, had been dead +several years when the brilliant politician met his second wife at a +garden-party at Dollis Hill. She was daughter of a man named Lambert, a +paper manufacturer, who acted as political agent in the town of Bedford; +and she was, therefore, essentially a country cousin. Her beauty was, +however, remarked everywhere. The Baronet was struck by her, and within +three months they were married at St. George's, Hanover Square, the +world congratulating her upon a very excellent match. From the very +first, however, the difference in the ages of husband and wife proved a +barrier. Ere the honeymoon was over she found that her husband, tied by +his political engagements and by his eternal duties at the House, was +unable to accompany her out of an evening; hence from the very first +they had drifted apart, until, eight months later, the terrible +affliction of blindness fell upon him. + +For a time this drew her back to him. She was his constant and dutiful +companion everywhere, leading him hither and thither, and attending to +his wants; but very soon the tie bored her, and the attractions of +society once again proved too great. Hence for the past nine +years--Gabrielle being at school, first at Eastbourne and afterwards at +Amiens--she had amused herself and left her husband to his dry-as-dust +hobbies and the loneliness of his black and sunless world. + +The man who had just put that curious question to her was perhaps her +closest friend. To her he owed everything, though the world was in +ignorance of the fact. That they were friends everybody knew. Indeed, +they had been friends years ago in Bedford, before her marriage, for +James was the only son of the Reverend Henry Flockart, vicar of one of +the parishes in the town. People living in Bedford recollected that the +parson's son had turned out rather badly, and had gone to America. But a +year or two after that the quiet-mannered old clergyman had died, the +living had been given to a successor, and Bedford knew the name of +Flockart no more. After Winifred's marriage, however, London society--or +rather a gay section of it--became acquainted with James Flockart, who +lived at ease in his pretty bachelor-rooms in Half-Moon Street, and who +soon gathered about him a large circle of male acquaintances. Sir Henry +knew him, and raised no objection to his wife's friendship towards him. +They had been boy and girl together; therefore what more natural than +that they should be friends in later life? + +In her schooldays Gabrielle knew practically nothing of this man; but +now she had returned to be her father's companion she had met him, and +had bitter cause to hate both him and Lady Heyburn. It was her own +secret. She kept it to herself. She hid the truth from her father--from +every one. She watched closely and in patience. One day she would speak +and tell the truth. Until then, she resolved to keep to herself all that +she knew. + +"Well?" asked the man with the soft-pleated shirt-front and white +waistcoat smeared with cigarette-ash. "What have you decided?" he asked +again. + +"I've decided nothing," was her blank answer. + +"But you must. Don't be a silly fool," he urged. "You've surely had time +to think over it?" + +"No, I haven't." + +"The girl knows nothing. So what have you to fear?" he endeavoured to +assure her. + +Lady Heyburn shrugged her shoulders. "How can you prove that she knows +nothing?" + +"Oh, she has eyes for nobody but the old man," he laughed. "To-night is +an example. Why, she wouldn't come to Connachan, even though she knew +that Walter was there. She preferred to spend the evening here with her +father." + +"She's a little fool, of course, Jimmy," replied the woman in pink; "but +perhaps it was as well that she didn't come. I hate to have to chaperon +the chit. It makes me look so horribly old." + +"I wish to goodness the girl was out of the way!" he declared. "She's +sharper than we think, and, by Jove! if ever she did know what was in +progress it would be all up for both of us--wouldn't it? Phew! think of +it!" + +"If I thought she had the slightest suspicion," declared her ladyship +with a sudden hardness of her lips, "I'd--I'd close her mouth very +quickly." + +"And for ever, eh?" he asked meaningly. + +"Yes, for ever." + +"Bah!" he laughed. "You'd be afraid to do that, my dear Winnie," added +the man, lowering his voice. "Your husband is blind, it's true; but +there are other people in the world who are not. Recollect, Gabrielle is +now nineteen, and she has her eyes open. She's the eyes and ears of Sir +Henry. Not the slightest thing occurs in this household but it is told +to him at once. His indifference to all is only a clever pretence." + +"What!" she gasped quickly; "do you think he suspects?" + +"Pray, what can he suspect?" asked the man very calmly, both hands in +his trouser-pockets, as he leaned back against the table in front of +her. + +"He can only suspect things which his daughter knows," she said. + +"But what does she know? What can she know?" he asked. + +"How can we tell? I have watched, but can detect nothing. I am, however, +suspicious, because she did not come to Connachan with us to-night." + +"Why?" + +"Walter Murie may know something, and may have told her." + +"If so, then to close her lips would be useless. It would only bring a +heavier responsibility upon us--and----" But he hesitated, without +finishing his sentence. His meaning was apparent from the wry face she +pulled at his remark. He did not tell her how he had, while she had been +dancing and flirting that night, made his way back to the castle, or how +he had compelled Gabrielle to go forth and speak with him. His action +had been a bold one, yet its result had confirmed certain vague +suspicions he had held. + +Well he knew that the girl hated him heartily, and that she was in +possession of a certain secret of his--one which might easily result in +his downfall. He feared to tell the truth to this woman before him, for +if he did so she would certainly withdraw from all association with him +in order to save herself. + +The key to the whole situation was held by that slim, sweet-faced girl, +so devoted to her afflicted father. He was not quite certain as to the +actual extent of her knowledge, and was as yet undecided as to what +attitude he should adopt towards her. He stood between the Baronet's +wife and his daughter, and hesitated in which direction to follow. + +What did she really know, he wondered. Had she overheard any of that +serious conversation between Lady Heyburn and himself while they walked +together in the glen on the previous evening? Such a _contretemps_ was +surely impossible, for he remembered they had taken every precaution +lest even Stewart, the head gamekeeper, might be about in order to stop +trespassers, who, attracted by the beauties of Glencardine, tried to +penetrate and explore them, and by so doing disturbed the game. + +"And if the girl really knows?" he asked of the woman who stood there +motionless, gazing out across the lawn fixedly towards the dawn. + +"If she knows, James," she said in a hard, decisive tone, "then we must +act together, quickly and fearlessly. We must carry out that--that plan +you proposed a year ago!" + +"You are quite fearless, then," he asked, looking straight into her fine +eyes. + +"Fearless? Of course I am," she answered unflinchingly. "We must get rid +of her." + +"Providing we can do so without any suspicion falling upon us." + +"You seem to have become quite white-livered," she exclaimed to him with +a harsh, derisive laugh. "You were not so a year ago--in the other +affair." + +His brows contracted as he reflected upon all it meant to him. The girl +knew something; therefore, to seal her lips was imperative for their own +safety. She was their enemy. + +"You are mistaken," he answered in a low calm voice. "I am just as +determined--just as fearless--as I was then." + +"And you will do it?" she asked. + +"If it is your wish," he replied simply. + +"Good! Give me your hand. We are agreed. It shall be done." + +And the man took the slim white hand the woman held out to him, and a +moment later they ascended the great oak staircase to their respective +rooms. + +The pair were in accord. The future contained for Gabrielle +Heyburn--asleep and all unconscious of the dastardly conspiracy--only +that which must be hideous, tragic, fatal. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MURIES OF CONNACHAN + + +Elise, Lady Heyburn's French maid, discovered next morning that an +antique snake-bracelet was missing, a loss which occasioned great +consternation in the household. + +Breakfast was late, and at table, when the loss was mentioned, Gabrielle +offered to drive over to Connachan in the car and make inquiry and +search. The general opinion was that it had been dropped in one of the +rooms, and was probably still lying there undiscovered. + +The girl's offer was accepted, and half an hour later the smaller of the +two Glencardine cars--the "sixteen" Fiat--was brought round to the door +by Stokes, the smart chauffeur. Young Gellatly, fresh down from Oxford, +begged to be allowed to go with her, and his escort was accepted. + +Then, in motor-cap and champagne-coloured dust-veil, Gabrielle mounted +at the wheel, with the young fellow at her side and Stokes in the back, +and drove away down the long avenue to the high-road. + +The car was her delight. Never so happy was she as when, wrapped in her +leather-lined motor-coat, she drove the "sixteen." The six-cylinder +"sixty" was too powerful for her, but with the "sixteen" she ran +half-over Scotland, and was quite a common object on the Perth to +Stirling road. Possessed of nerve and full of self-confidence, she could +negotiate traffic in Edinburgh or Glasgow, and on one occasion had +driven her father the whole way from Glencardine up to London, a +distance of four hundred and fifty miles. Her fingers pressed the button +of the electric horn as they descended the sharp incline to the +lodge-gates; and, turning into the open road, she was soon speeding +along through Auchterarder village, skirted Tullibardine Wood, down +through Braco, and along by the Knaik Water and St. Patrick's Well into +Glen Artney, passing under the dark shadow of Dundurn, until there came +into view the broad waters of Loch Earn. + +The morning was bright and cloudless, and at such a pace they went that +a perfect wall of dust stood behind them. + +From the margin of the loch the ground rose for a couple of miles until +it reached a plateau upon which stood the fine, imposing Priory, the +ancestral seat of the Muries of Connachan. The aspect as they drove up +was very imposing. The winding road was closely planted with trees for a +large portion of its course, and the stately front of the western +entrance, with its massive stone portico and crenulated cornice, burst +unexpectedly upon them. + +From that point of view one seemed to have reached the gable-end of a +princely edifice, crowned with Gothic belfries; yet on looking round it +was seen that the approach by which the doorway had been reached was +lined on one side with buildings hidden behind the clustering foliage; +and through the archway on the left one caught a glimpse of the +ivy-covered clock-tower and spacious stable-yard and garage extending +northwards for a considerable distance. + +Gabrielle ran the car round to the south side of the house, where in the +foreground were the well-kept parks of Connachan, the smooth-shaven lawn +fringed with symmetrically planted trees, and the fertile fields +extending away to the very brink of the loch. + +The original fortalice of the Muries, half a mile distant, was, like +Glencardine, a ruin. The present Priory, notwithstanding its +old-fashioned towers and lancet windows, was a comparatively modern +structure, and the ivy which partially covered some of the windows could +claim no great antiquity; yet the general effect of the architectural +grouping was most pleasing, and might well deceive the visitor or +tourist into the supposition that it belonged to a very remote period. +It was, as a matter of fact, the work of Atkinson, who in the first +years of the nineteenth century built Scone, Abbotsford, and Taymouth +Castle. + +With loud warning blasts upon the horn, Gabrielle Heyburn pulled up; but +ere she could descend, Walter Murie, a good-looking, dark-haired young +man in grey flannels, and hatless, was outside, hailing her with +delight. + +"Hallo, Gabrielle!" he cried cheerily, taking her hand, "what brings you +over this morning, especially when we were told last night that you were +so very ill?" + +"The illness has passed," exclaimed young Gellatly, shaking his friend's +hand. "And we're now in search of a lost bracelet--one of Lady +Heyburn's." + +"Why, my mother was just going to wire! One of the maids found it in the +boudoir this morning, but we didn't know to whom it belonged. Come +inside. There are a lot of people staying over from last night." Then, +turning to Gabrielle, he added, "By Jove! what dust there must be on the +road! You're absolutely covered." + +"Well," she laughed lightly, "it won't hurt me, I suppose. I'm not +afraid of it." + +Stokes took charge of the car and shut off the petrol, while the three +went inside, passing into a long, cool cloister, down which was arranged +the splendid collection of antiques discovered or acquired by Malcolm +Murie, the well-known antiquary, who had spent many years in Italy, and +died in 1794. In cases ranged down each side of the long cloister, with +its antique carved chairs, armour, and statuary, were rare Etruscan and +Roman terra-cottas, one containing relics from the tomb of a warrior, +which included a sword-hilt adorned with gold and a portion of a golden +crown formed of lilies _in relievo_ of pure gold laid upon a mould of +bronze; another case was full of bronze ornaments unearthed near Albano, +and still another contained rare Abyssinian curios. The collection was +renowned among antiquaries, and was often visited by Sir Henry, who +would be brought there in the car by Gabrielle, and spend hours alone +fingering the objects in the various cases. + +Sir George Murie and Sir Henry Heyburn were close friends; therefore it +was but natural that Walter, the heir to the Connachan estate, and +Gabrielle should often be thrown into each other's company, or perhaps +that the young man--who for the past twelve months had been absent on a +tour round the world--should have loved her ever since the days when she +wore short skirts and her hair down her back. He had been sorely puzzled +why she had not at the last moment come to the ball. She had promised +that she would be with them, and yet she had made the rather lame excuse +of a headache. + +Truth to tell, Walter Murie had during the past week been greatly +puzzled at her demeanour of indifference. Seven days ago he had arrived +in London from New York, but found no letter from her awaiting him at +the club, as he had expected. The last he had received in Detroit a +month before, and it was strangely cold, and quite unusual. Two days ago +he had arrived home, and in secret she had met him down at the end of +the glen at Glencardine. At her wish, their first meeting had been +clandestine. Why? + +Both their families knew of their mutual affection. Therefore, why +should she now make a secret of their meeting after twelve months' +separation? He was puzzled at her note, and he was further puzzled at +her attitude towards him. She was cold and unresponsive. When he held +her in his arms and kissed her soft lips, she only once returned his +passionate caress, and then as though it were a duty forced upon her. +She had, however, promised to come to the ball. That promise she had +deliberately broken. + +Though he could not understand her, he made pretence of unconcern. He +regretted that she had not felt well last night--that was all. + +At the end of the cloister young Gellatly found one of Lady Murie's +guests, a girl named Violet Priest, with whom he had danced a good deal +on the previous night, and at once attached himself to her, leaving +Walter with the sweet-faced, slim-waisted object of his affections. + +The moment they were alone in the long cloister he asked her quickly, +"Tell me, Gabrielle, the real reason why you did not come last night. I +had looked forward very much to seeing you. But I was disappointed +--sadly disappointed." + +"I am very sorry," she laughed, with assumed nonchalance; "but I had to +assist my father with some business papers." + +"Your mother told everyone that you do not care for dancing," he said. + +"That is untrue, Walter. I love dancing." + +"I knew it was untrue, dearest," he said, standing before her. "But why +does Lady Heyburn go out of her way to throw cold water upon you and all +your works?" + +"How should I know?" asked the girl, with a slight shrug. "Perhaps it is +because my father places more confidence in me than in her." + +"And his confidence is surely not misplaced," he said. "I tell you +frankly that I don't like Lady Heyburn." + +"She pretends to like you." + +"Pretends!" he echoed. "Yes, it's all pretence. But," he added, "do tell +me the real reason of your absence last night, Gabrielle. It has worried +me." + +"Why worry, my dear Walter? Is it really worth troubling over? I'm only +a girl, and, as such, am allowed vagaries of nerves--and all that. I +simply didn't want to come, that's all." + +"Why?" + +"Well, to tell you the truth, I hate the crowd we have staying in our +house. They are all mother's friends; and mother's friends are never +mine, you know." + +He looked at her slim figure, so charming in its daintiness. "What a +dear little philosopher you've grown to be in a single year!" he +declared. "We shall have you quoting Friedrich Nietzsche next." + +"Well," she laughed, "if you would like me to quote him I can do so. I +read _Zarathustra_ secretly at school. One of the girls got a copy from +Germany. Do you remember what Zarathustra says: 'Verily, ye could wear +no better masks, ye present-day men, than your own faces,' Who could +recognise you?" + +"I hope that's not meant to be personal," he laughed, gazing at the +girl's beautiful countenance and great, luminous eyes. + +"You may take it as you like," she declared with a delightfully +mischievous smile. "I only quoted it to show you that I have read +Nietzsche, and recollect his many truths." + +"You certainly do seem to have a gay house-party at Glencardine," he +remarked, changing the subject. "I noticed Jimmy Flockart there as +usual." + +"Yes. He's one of mother's greatest friends. She makes good use of him +in every way. Up in town they are inseparable, it seems. They knew each +other, I believe, when they were boy and girl." + +"So I've heard," replied the young man thoughtfully, leaning against a +big glass case containing a collection of _lares_ and _penates_--images +of Jupiter, Hercules, Mercury, &c., used as household gods. "I expected +that he would be dancing attendance upon her during the whole of the +evening; but, curiously enough, soon after his arrival he suddenly +disappeared, and was not seen again until nearly two o'clock." Then, +looking straight in the girl's fathomless eye, he added, "Do you know, +Gabrielle, I don't like that fellow. Beware of him." + +"Neither do I. But your warning is quite unnecessary, I assure you. He +doesn't interest me in the least." + +Walter Murie was silent for a moment, silent as though in doubt. A +shadow crossed his well-cut features, but only for a single second. Then +he smiled again upon the fair-faced, soft-spoken girl whom he loved so +honestly and so well, the woman who was all in all to him. How could he +doubt her--she who only a year ago had, out yonder in the park, given +him her pledge of affection, and sealed it with her hot, passionate +kisses? Remembrance of those sweet caresses still lingered with him. But +he doubted her. Yes, he could not conceal from himself certain very ugly +facts--facts within his own knowledge. Yet was not his own poignant +jealousy misleading him? Was not her refusal to attend the ball perhaps +due to some sudden pique or unpleasantness with her giddy stepmother? +Was it? He only longed to be able to believe that it might be so. Alas! +however, he had discovered the shadow of a strange and disagreeable +truth. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +CONCERNS GABRIELLE'S SECRET + + +Along the cloister they went to the great hall, where Walter's mother +advanced to greet her. Full of regrets at the girl's inability to attend +the dance, she handed her the missing bracelet, saying, "It is such a +curious and unusual one, dear, that we wondered to whom it belonged. +Brown found it when she was sweeping my boudoir this morning. Take it +home to your mother, and suggest that she has a stronger clasp put on +it." + +The girl held the golden snake in her open hand. This was the first time +she had ever seen it. A fine example of old Italian workmanship, it was +made flexible, with its flat head covered with diamonds, and two bright +emeralds for the eyes. The mouth could be opened, and within was a small +cavity where a photo or any tiny object could be concealed. Where her +mother had picked it up she could not tell. But Lady Heyburn was always +purchasing quaint odds and ends, and, like most giddy women of her +class, was extraordinarily fond of fantastic jewellery and ornaments +such as other women did not possess. + +Several members of the house-party at Connachan entered and chatted, all +being full of the success of the previous night's entertainment. Lady +Murie's husband had, it appeared, left that morning for Edinburgh to +attend a political committee. + +A little later Walter succeeded in getting Gabrielle alone again in a +small, well-furnished room leading off the library--a room in which she +had passed many happy hours with him before he had gone abroad. He had +been in London reading for the Bar, but had spent a good deal of his +time up in Perthshire, or at least all he possibly could. At such times +they were inseparable; but after he had been "called"--there being no +necessity for him to practise, he being heir to the estates--he had gone +to India and Japan "to broaden his mind," as his father had explained. + +"I wonder, Gabrielle," he said hesitatingly, holding her hand as they +stood at the open window--"I wonder if you will forgive me if I put a +question to you. I--I know I ought not to ask it," he stammered; "but it +is only because I love you so well, dearest, that I ask you to tell me +the truth." + +"The truth!" echoed the girl, looking at him with some surprise, though +turning just a trifle paler, he thought. "The truth about what?" + +"About that man James Flockart," was his low, distinct reply. + +"About him! Why, my dear Walter," she laughed, "whatever do you want to +know about him? You know all that I know. We were agreed long ago that +he is not a gentleman, weren't we?" + +"Yes," he said. "Don't you recollect our talk at your house in London +two years ago, soon after you came back from school? Do you remember +what you then told me?" + +She flushed slightly at the recollection. "I--I ought not to have said +that," she exclaimed hurriedly. "I was only a girl then, and I--well, I +didn't know." + +"What you said has never passed my lips, dearest. Only, I ask you again +to-day to tell me honestly and frankly whether your opinion of him has +in any way changed. I mean whether you still believe what you then +said." + +She was silent for a few moments. Her lips twitched nervously, and her +eyes stared blankly out of the window. "No, I repeat what--I--said +--then," she answered in a strange hoarse voice. + +"And only you yourself suspect the truth?" + +"You are the only person to whom I have mentioned it, and I have been +filled with regret ever since. I had no right to make the allegation, +Walter. I should have kept my secret to myself." + +"There was surely no harm in telling me, dearest," he exclaimed, still +holding her hand, and looking fixedly into those clear-blue, fathomless +eyes so very dear to him. "You know too well that I would never betray +you." + +"But if he knew--if that man ever knew," she cried, "he would avenge +himself upon me! I know he would." + +"But what have you to fear, little one?" he asked, surprised at the +sudden change in her. + +"You know how my mother hates me, how they all detest me--all except +dear old dad, who is so terribly helpless, misled, defrauded, and +tricked--as he daily is--by those about him." + +"I know, darling," said the young man. "I know it all only too well. +Trust in me;" and, bending, he kissed her softly upon the lips. + +What was the real, the actual truth, he wondered. Was she still his, as +she had ever been, or was she playing him false? + +Little did the girl dream of the extent of her lover's knowledge of +certain facts which she was hiding from the world, vainly believing them +to be her own secret. Little did she dream how very near she was to +disaster. + +Walter Murie had, after a frivolous youth, developed at the age of +six-and-twenty into as sound, honest, and upright a young man as could +be found beyond the Border. As full of high spirits as of high +principles, he was in every way worthy the name of the gallant family +whose name he bore, a Murie of Connachan, both for physical strength and +scrupulous honesty; while his affection for Gabrielle Heyburn was that +deep, all-absorbing devotion which makes men sacrifice themselves for +the women they love. He was not very demonstrative. He never wore his +heart upon his sleeve, but deep within him was that true affection which +caused him to worship her as his idol. To him she was peerless among +women, and her beauty was unequalled. Her piquant mischievousness amused +him. As a girl, she had always been fond of tantalising him, and did so +now. Yet he knew her fine character; how deeply devoted she was to her +afflicted father, and how full of discomfort was her dull life, now that +she had exchanged her school for the same roof which covered Sir Henry's +second wife. Indeed, this latter event was the common talk of all who +knew the family. They sighed and pitied poor Sir Henry. It was all very +sad, they said; but there their sympathy ended. During Walter's absence +abroad something had occurred. What that something was he had not yet +determined. Gabrielle was not exactly the same towards him as she used +to be. His keen sensitiveness told him this instinctively, and, indeed, +he had made a discovery that, though he did not admit it now, had +staggered him. + +He stood there at the open window chatting with her, but what he said he +had no idea. His one thought--the one question which now possessed +him--was whether she still loved him, or whether the discovery he had +made was the actual and painful truth. Tall and good-looking, +clean-shaven, and essentially easy-going, he stood before her with his +dark eyes fixed upon her--eyes full of devotion, for was she not his +idol? + +She was telling him of a garden-party which her mother had arranged for +the following Thursday, and pressing him to attend it. + +"I'm afraid I may have to be in London that day, dearest," he responded. +"But if I may I'll come over to-morrow and play tennis. Will you be at +home in the afternoon?" + +"No," she declared promptly, with a mischievous laugh, "I shan't. I +shall be in the glen by the first bridge at four o'clock, and shall wait +for you there." + +"Very well, I'll be there," he laughed. "But why should we meet in +secret like this, when everybody knows of our engagement?" + +"Well, because I have a reason," she replied in a strained voice--"a +strong reason." + +"You've grown suddenly shy, afraid of chaff, it seems." + +"My mother is, I fear, not altogether well disposed towards you, +Walter," was her quick response. "Dad is very fond of you, as you well +know; but Lady Heyburn has other views for me, I think." + +"And is that the only reason you wish to meet me in secret?" he asked. + +She hesitated, became slightly confused, and quickly turned the +conversation into a different channel, a fact which caused him increased +doubt and reflection. + +Yes, something certainly had occurred. That was vividly apparent. A gulf +lay between them. + +Again he looked straight into her beautiful face, and fell to wondering. +What could it all mean? So true had she been to him, so sweet her +temperament, so high all her ideals, that he could not bring himself to +believe ill of her. He tried to fight down those increasing doubts. He +tried to put aside the naked truth which had arisen before him since his +return to England. He loved her. Yes, he loved her, and would think no +ill of her until he had proof, actual and indisputable. + +As far as the eligibility of Walter Murie was concerned there was no +question. Even Lady Heyburn could not deny it when she discussed the +matter over the tea-cups with her intimate friends. + +The family of the Muries of Connachan claimed a respectable antiquity. +The original surname of the family was De Balinhard, assumed from an +estate of that name in the county of Forfar. Sir Jocelynus de +Baldendard, or Balinhard, who witnessed several charters between 1204 +and 1225, is the first recorded of the name, but there is no documentary +proof of descent before that time; and, indeed, most of the family +papers having been burned in 1452, little remains of the early history +beyond the names and succession of the possessors of Balinhard from +about 1250 till 1350, which are stated in a charter of David II. now +preserved in the British Museum. This charter records the grant made by +William de Maule to John de Balinhard, _filio et heredi quondam Joannis +filii Christini filii Joannis de Balinhard_, of the lands of Murie, in +the county of Perthshire, and from that period, about 1350, the family +has borne the name of De Murie instead of De Balinhard. In 1409 Duthac +de Murie obtained a charter of the Castle of Connachan, possession of +which has been held by the family uninterruptedly ever since, except for +about thirty years, when the lands were under forfeiture on account of +the Rebellion of 1715. + +Near Crieff Junction station the lands of Glencardine and Connachan +march together; therefore both Sir Henry Heyburn and his friend, Sir +George Murie, had looked upon an alliance between the two houses as +quite within the bounds of probability. + +If the truth were told, Gabrielle had never looked upon any other man +save Walter with the slightest thought of affection. She loved him with +the whole strength of her being. During that twelve long months of +absence he had been daily in her thoughts, and his constant letters she +had read and re-read dozens of times. She had, since she left school, +met many eligible young men at houses to which her mother had grudgingly +taken her--young men who had been nice to her, flattered her, and +flirted with her. But she had treated them all with coquettish disdain, +for in the world there was but one man who was her lover and her +hero--her old friend Walter Murie. + +At this moment, as they were together in that cosy, well-furnished room, +she became seized by a twinge of conscience. She knew quite well that +she was not treating him as she ought. She had not been at all +enthusiastic at his return, and she had inquired but little about his +wanderings. Indeed, she had treated him with a studied indifference, as +though his life concerned her but little. And yet if he only knew the +truth, she thought; if he could only see that that cool, unresponsive +attitude was forced upon her by circumstances; if he could only know how +quickly her heart throbbed when he was present, and how dull and lonely +all became when he was absent! + +She loved him. Ah, yes! as truly and devotedly as he loved her. But +between them there had fallen a dark, grim shadow--one which, at all +hazards and by every subterfuge, she must endeavour to hide. She loved +him, and could, therefore, never bear to hear his bitter reproaches or +to witness his grief. He worshipped her. Would that he did not, she +thought. She must hide her secret from him as she was hiding it from all +the world. + +He was speaking. She answered him calmly yet mechanically. He wondered +what strange thoughts were concealed beneath those clear, wide-open, +child-like eyes which he was trying in vain to fathom. What would he +have thought had he known the terrible truth: that she had calmly, and +after long reflection, resolved to court death--death by her own +hand--rather than face the exposure with which she had that previous +night been threatened. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +CONTAINS CURIOUS CONFIDENCES + + +A week had gone by. Stewart, the lean, thin-faced head-keeper, who spoke +with such a strong accent that guests from the South often failed to +understand him, and who never seemed to sleep, so vigilant was he over +the Glencardine shootings, had reported the purchase of a couple of new +pointers. + +Therefore, one morning Lady Heyburn and her constant cavalier, Flockart, +had walked across to the kennels close to the castle to inspect them. + +At the end of the big, old-fashioned stable-yard, with grey stone +outbuildings ranged down either side, and the ancient mounting-block a +conspicuous object, were ranged the modern iron kennels full of pointers +and spaniels. In that big, old, paved quadrangle, the cobbles of which +were nowadays stained by the oil of noisy motor-cars, many a Graham of +Glencardine had mounted to ride into Stirling or Edinburgh, or to drive +in his coach to far-off London. The stables were now empty, but the +garage adjoining, whence came the odour of petrol, contained the two +Glencardine cars, besides three others belonging to members of that +merry, irresponsible house-party. + +The inspection of the pointers was a mere excuse on her ladyship's part +to be alone with Flockart. + +She wished to speak with him, and with that object suggested that they +should take the by-road which, crossing one of the main roads through +the estate, led through a leafy wood away to a railway level-crossing +half a mile off. The road was unfrequented, and they were not likely to +meet any of the guests, for some were away fishing, others had motored +into Stirling, and at least three had walked down into Auchterarder to +take a telegram for their blind host. + +"Well, my dear Jimmy," asked the well-preserved, fair-haired woman in +short brown skirt and fresh white cotton blouse and sun-hat, "what have +you discovered?" + +"Very little," replied the easy-going man, who wore a suit of rough +heather-tweed and a round cloth fishing-hat. "My information is +unfortunately very meagre. You have watched carefully. Well, what have +you found out?" + +"That she's just as much in love with him as before--the little fool!" + +"And I suppose he's just as devoted to her as ever--eh?" + +"Of course. Since you've been away these last few days he's been over +here from Connachan, on one pretext or another, every day. Of course +I've been compelled to ask him to lunch, for I can't afford to quarrel +with his people, although I hate the whole lot of them. His mother gives +herself such airs, and his father is the most terrible old bore in the +whole country." + +"But the match would be an advantageous one--wouldn't it?" suggested the +man strolling at her side, and he stopped to light a cigarette which he +took from a golden case. + +"Advantageous! Of course it would! But we can't afford to allow it, my +dear Jimmy. Think what such an alliance would mean to us!" + +"To you, you mean." + +"To you also. An ugly revelation might result, remember. Therefore it +must not be allowed. While Walter was abroad all was pretty plain +sailing. Lots of the letters she wrote him I secured from the post-box, +read them, and afterwards burned them. But now he's back there is a +distinct peril. He's a cute young fellow, remember." + +Flockart smiled. "We must discover a means by which to part them," he +said slowly but decisively. "I quite agree with you that to allow the +matter to go any further would be to court disaster. We have a good many +enemies, you and I, Winnie--many who would only be too pleased and eager +to rake up that unfortunate episode. And I, for one, have no desire to +figure in a criminal dock." + +"Nor have I," she declared quickly. + +"But if I went there you would certainly accompany me," he said, looking +straight at her. + +"What!" she gasped in quick dismay. "You would tell the truth and--and +denounce me?" + +"I would not; but no doubt there are others who would," was his answer. + +For a few moments her arched brows were knit, and she remained silent. +Her reflections were uneasy ones. She and the man at her side, who for +years had been her confidant and friend, were both in imminent peril of +exposure. Their relations had always been purely platonic; therefore she +was not afraid of any allegation against her honour. What her enemies +had said were lies--all of them. Her fear lay in quite a different +direction. + +Her poor, blind, helpless husband was in ignorance of that terrible +chapter of her own life--a chapter which she had believed to be closed +for ever, and yet which was, by means of a chain of unexpected +circumstances, in imminent danger of being reopened. + +"Well," she inquired at last in a blank voice, "and who are those others +who, you believe, would be prepared to denounce me?" + +"Certain persons who envy you your position, and who, perhaps, think +that you do not treat poor old Sir Henry quite properly." + +"But I do treat him properly!" she declared vehemently. "If he prefers +the society of that chit of a girl of his to mine, how can I possibly +help it? Besides, people surely must know that, to me, the society of a +blind old man is not exactly conducive to gaiety. I would only like to +put those women who malign me into my place for a single year. Perhaps +they would become even more reckless of the _convenances_ than I am!" + +"My dear Winnie," he said, "what's the use of discussing such an old and +threadbare theme? Things are not always what they seem, as the man with +a squint said when he thought he saw two sovereigns where there was but +one. The point before us is the girl's future." + +"It lies in your hands," was her sharp reply. + +"No; in yours. I have promised to look after Walter Murie." + +"But how can I act?" she asked. "The little hussy cares nothing for +me--only sees me at table, and spends the whole of her day with her +father." + +"Act as I suggested last week," was his rejoinder. "If you did that the +old man would turn her out of the place, and the rest would be easy +enough." + +"But----" + +"Ah!" he laughed derisively, "I see you've some sympathy with the girl +after all. Very well, take the consequences. It is she who will be your +deadliest enemy, remember; she who, if the disaster falls, will give +evidence against you. Therefore, you'd best act now, ere it's too late. +Unless, of course, you are in fear of her." + +"I don't fear her!" cried the woman, her eyes flashing defiance. "Why do +you taunt me like this? You haven't told me yet what took place on the +night of the ball." + +"Nothing. The mystery is just as complete as ever." + +"She defied you--eh?" + +Her companion nodded. + +"Then how do you now intend to act?" + +"That's just the question I was about to put to you," he said. "There is +a distinct peril--one which becomes graver every moment that the girl +and young Murie are together. How are we to avert it?" + +"By parting them." + +"Then act as I suggested the other day. It's the only way, Winnie, +depend upon it--the only way to secure our own safety." + +"And what would the world say of me, her stepmother, if it were known +that I had done such a thing?" + +"You've never yet cared for what the world said. Why should you care +now? Besides, it never will be known. I should be the only person in the +secret, and for my own sake it isn't likely that I'd give you away. Is +it? You've trusted me before," he added; "why not again?" + +"It would break my husband's heart," she declared in a low, intense +voice. "Remember, he is devoted to her. He would never recover from the +shock." + +"And yet the other night after the ball you said you were prepared to +carry out the suggestion, in order to save yourself," he remarked with a +covert sneer. + +"Perhaps I was piqued that she should defy my suggestion that she should +go to the ball." + +"No, you were not. You never intended her to go. That you know." + +When he spoke to her this man never minced matters. The woman was held +by him in a strange thraldom which surprised many people; yet to all it +was a mystery. The world knew nothing of the fact that James Flockart +was without a penny, and that he lived--and lived well, too--upon the +charity of Lady Heyburn. Two thousand pounds were placed, in secret, +every year to his credit from her ladyship's private account at +Coutts's, besides which he received odd cheques from her whenever his +needs required. To his friends he posed as an easy-going man-about-town, +in possession of an income not large, but sufficient to supply him with +both comforts and luxuries. He usually spent the London season in his +cosy chambers in Half-Moon Street; the winter at Monte Carlo or at +Cairo; the summer at Aix, Vichy, or Marienbad; and the autumn in a +series of visits to houses in Scotland. + +He was not exactly a ladies' man. Courtly, refined, and a splendid +linguist, as he was, the girls always voted him great fun; but from the +elder ones, and from married women especially, he somehow held himself +aloof. His one woman-friend, as everybody knew, was the flighty, +go-ahead Lady Heyburn. + +Of the country-house party he was usually the life and soul. No man +could invent so many practical jokes or carry them on with such +refinement of humour as he. Therefore, if the hostess wished to impart +merriment among her guests, she sought out and sent a pressing +invitation to "Jimmy" Flockart. A first-class shot, an excellent +tennis-player, a good golfer, and quite a good hand at putting a stone +in curling, he was an all-round sportsman who was sure to be highly +popular with his fellow-guests. Hence up in the north his advent was +always welcomed with loud approbation. + +To those who knew him, and knew him well, this confidential conversation +with the woman whose platonic friendship he had enjoyed through so many +years would certainly have caused greatest surprise. That he was a +schemer was entirely undreamed of. That he was attracted by "Winnie +Heyburn" was declared to be only natural, in view of the age and +affliction of her own husband. Cases such as hers are often regarded +with a very lenient eye. + +They had reached the level-crossing where, beside the line of the +Caledonian Railway, stands the mail-apparatus by which the down-mail for +Euston picks up the local bag without stopping, while the up-mail drops +its letters and parcels into the big, strong net. For a few moments they +halted to watch the dining-car express for Euston pass with a roar and a +crash as she dashed down the incline towards Crieff Junction. + +Then, as they turned again towards the house, he suddenly exclaimed, +"Look here, Winnie. We've got to face the music now. Every day increases +our peril. If you are actually afraid to act as I suggest, then tell me +frankly and I'll know what to do. I tell you quite openly that I have +neither desire nor intention to be put into a hole by this confounded +girl. She has defied me; therefore she must take the consequences." + +"How do you know that your action the other night has not aroused her +suspicions?" + +"Ah! there you are quite right. It may have done so. If it has, then our +peril has very considerably increased. That's just my argument." + +"But we'll have Walter to reckon with in any case. He loves her." + +"Bah! Leave the boy to me. I'll soon show him that the girl's not worth +a second thought," replied Flockart with nonchalant air. "All you have +to do is to act as I suggested the other night. Then leave the rest to +me." + +"And suppose it were discovered?" asked the woman, whose face had grown +considerably paler. + +"Well, suppose the worst happened, and it were discovered?" he asked, +raising his brows slightly. "Should we be any worse off than would be +the case if this girl took it into her head to expose us--if the facts +which she could prove placed us side by side in an assize-court?" + +The woman--clever, scheming, ambitious--was silent. The question +admitted of no reply. She recognised her own peril. The picture of +herself arraigned before a judge, with that man beside her, rose before +her imagination, and she became terrified. That slim, pale-faced girl, +her husband's child, stood between her and her own honour, her own +safety. Once the girl was removed, she would have no further fear, no +apprehension, no hideous forebodings concerning the imminent future. She +saw it all as she walked along that moss-grown forest-road, her eyes +fixed straight before her. The tempter at her side had urged her to +commit a dastardly, an unpardonable crime. In that man's hands she was, +alas! as wax. He poured into her ear a vivid picture of what must +inevitably result should Gabrielle reveal the ugly truth, at the same +time calmly watching the effect of his words upon her. Upon her decision +depended his whole future as well as hers. What was Gabrielle's life to +hers, asked the man point-blank. That was the question which decided +her--decided her, after long and futile resistance, to promise to commit +the act which he had suggested. She gave the man her hand in pledge. + +Then a slight smile of triumph played about his cruel nether lip, and +the pair retraced their steps towards the castle in silence. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +CASTING THE BAIT + + +Loving and perishing: these have tallied from eternity. Love and death +walk hand-in-hand. The will to love means also to be ready for death. + +Gabrielle Heyburn recognised this truth. She had the will to love, and +she had the resolve to perish--perish by her own hand--rather than allow +her secret to be exposed. Those who knew her--a young, athletic, +merry-faced, open-air girl on the verge of budding womanhood, so +true-hearted, frank, and free--little dreamed of the terrible nature of +that secret within her young heart. + +She held aloof from her lover as much as she dared. True, Walter came to +Glencardine nearly every day, but she managed to avoid him whenever +possible. Why? Because she knew her own weakness; she feared being +compelled by his stronger nature, and by the true affection in which she +held him, to confess. They walked together in the cool, shady glen +beside the rippling burn, climbed the neighbouring hills, played tennis, +or else she lay in the hammock at the edge of the lawn while he lounged +at her side smoking cigarettes. She did all this because she was +compelled. + +Her most enjoyable hours were the quiet ones spent at her father's side. +Alone in the library, she read to him, in French, those curious business +documents which came so often by registered post. They were so strangely +worded that, not knowing their true import, she failed to understand +them. All were neatly typed, without any heading to the paper. Sometimes +a printed address in the Boulevard des Capucines, Paris, would appear on +letters accompanying the enclosures. But all were very formal, and to +Gabrielle extremely puzzling. + +Sir Henry always took the greatest precaution that no one should obtain +sight of these confidential reports or overhear them read by his +daughter. Before she sat down to read, she always shot the small brass +bolt on the door to prevent Hill or any other intruder from entering. +More than once the Baronet's wife had wanted to come in while the +reading was in progress, whereupon Sir Henry always excused himself, +saying that he locked his door against his guests when he wished to be +alone, an explanation which her ladyship accepted. + +These strangely worded reports in French always puzzled the Baronet's +daughter. Sometimes she became seized by a vague suspicion that her +father was carrying on some business which was not altogether +honourable. Why should he enjoin such secrecy? Why should he cause her +to write and despatch with her own hand such curiously worded telegrams, +addressed always to the registered address: "METEFOROS, PARIS"? + +Those neatly typed pages which she read could be always construed in two +or three senses. But only her father knew the actual meaning which the +writer intended to convey. For hours she would often be engaged in +reading them. Sometimes, too, telegrams in cipher arrived, and she would +then obtain the little, dark-blue covered book from the safe, and by its +aid decipher the messages from the French capital. + +Questions, curious questions, were frequently asked by the anonymous +sender of the reports; and to these her father replied by means of his +private code. She had become during the past year quite an expert +typist, and therefore to her the Baronet entrusted the replies, always +impressing upon her the need of absolute secrecy, even from her mother. + +"My affairs," he often declared, "concern nobody but myself. I trust in +you, Gabrielle dear, to guard my secrets from prying eyes. I know that +you yourself must often be puzzled, but that is only natural." + +Unfamiliar as the girl was with business in any form, she had during the +past year arrived at the conclusion, after much debate within herself, +that this source of her father's income was a distinctly mysterious one. +The estates were, of course, large, and he employed agents to manage +them; but they could not produce that huge income which she knew he +possessed, for had she not more than once seen the amount of his balance +at his banker's as well as the large sum he had on deposit? The source +of his colossal wealth was a mystery, but was no doubt connected with +his curious and constant communications with Paris. + +At rare intervals a grey-faced, grey-bearded, and rather stout +Frenchman--a certain Monsieur Goslin--called, and on such occasions was +closeted for a long time alone with Sir Henry, evidently discussing some +important affair in secret. To her ladyship, as well as to Gabrielle, +the Frenchman was most courteous, but refused the pressing invitations +to remain the night. He always arrived by the morning train from Perth, +and left for the south the same night, the express being stopped for him +by signal at Auchterarder station. The mysterious visitor puzzled +Gabrielle considerably. Her father entrusted him with secrets which he +withheld from her, and this often caused her both surprise and +annoyance. Like every other girl, she was of course full of curiosity. + +Towards her Flockart became daily more friendly. On two occasions, after +breakfast, he had invited her to spend an hour or two fishing for trout +in the burn, which was unexpectedly in spate, and they had thus been +some time in each other's company. + +She, however, regarded him with distinct distrust. He was undeniably +good-looking, nonchalant, and a thorough-going man of the world. But his +intimate friendship with Lady Heyburn prevented her from regarding him +as a true friend. Towards her he was ever most courteous, and paid her +many little compliments. He tied her flies, he fitted her rod, and if +her line became entangled in the trees he always put matters right. Not, +however, that she could not do it all herself. In her strong, high +fishing-boots, her short skirts hemmed with leather, her burberry, and +her dark-blue tam-o'-shanter set jauntily on her chestnut hair, she very +often fished alone, and made quite respectable baskets. To wade into the +burn and disentangle her line from beneath a stone was to her quite a +small occurrence, for she would never let either Stewart or any of the +under-keepers accompany her. + +Why Flockart had so suddenly sought her society she failed to discern. +Hitherto, though always extremely polite, he had treated her as a child, +which she naturally resented. At length, however, he seemed to have +realised that she now possessed the average intelligence of a young +woman. + +He had never repeated those strange words he had uttered when, on the +night of the ball at Connachan, he returned in secret to the castle and +beckoned her out upon the lawn. He had, indeed, never referred to his +curious action. Sometimes she wondered, so changed was his manner, +whether he had actually forgotten the incident altogether. He had showed +himself in his true colours that night. Whatever suspicions she had +previously held were corroborated in that stroll across the lawn in the +dark shadow. His tactics had altered, it seemed, and their objective +puzzled her. + +"It must be very dull for you here, Miss Heyburn," he remarked to her +one bright morning as they were casting up-stream near one another. They +were standing not far from a rustic bridge in a deep, leafy glen, where +the sunshine penetrated here and there through the canopy of leaves, +beneath which the burn pursued its sinuous course towards the Earn. The +music of the rippling waters over the brown, moss-grown boulders mingled +with the rustle of the leaves above, as now and then the soft wind swept +up the narrow valley. They were treading a carpet of wild-flowers, and +the air was full of the delicious perfume of the summer day. "You must +be very dull, living here so much, and going up to town so very seldom," +he said. + +"Oh dear no!" she laughed. "You are quite mistaken. I really enjoy a +country life. It's so jolly after the confinement and rigorous rules of +school. One is free up here. I can wear my old clothes, and go cycling, +fishing, shooting, curling; in fact, I'm my own mistress. That I +shouldn't be if I lived in London, and had to make calls, walk in the +Park, go shopping, sit out concerts, and all that sort of thing." + +"But though you're out, you never go anywhere. Surely that's unusual for +one so active and--well"--he hesitated--"I wonder whether I might be +permitted to say so--so good-looking as you are, Gabrielle." + +"Ah!" replied the girl, protesting, but blushing at the same time, +"you're poking fun at me, Mr. Flockart. All I can reply is, first, that +I'm not good-looking; and, secondly, I'm not in the least dull--perhaps +I should be if I hadn't my father's affairs to attend to." + +"They seem to take up a lot of your time," he said with pretended +indifference, but, to his annoyance, landed a salmon parr at the same +moment. + +"We work together most evenings," was her reply. + +The question which he then put as he threw the parr back into the burn +struck her as curious. It was evident that he was endeavouring to learn +from her the nature of her father's correspondence. But she was shrewd +enough to parry all his ingenious cross-questioning. Her father's +secrets were her own. + +"Some ill-natured people gossip about Sir Henry," he remarked presently, +as he made another long cast up-stream and allowed the flies to be +carried down to within a few yards from where he stood. "They say that +his source of income is mysterious, and that it is not altogether open +and above-board." + +"What!" she exclaimed, looking at him quickly. "And who, pray, Mr. +Flockart, makes this allegation against my father?" + +"Oh, I really don't know who started the gossip. The source of such +tales is always difficult to discover. Some enemy, no doubt. Every man +in this world of ours has enemies." + +"What do you mean by the source of dad's income not being an honourable +one?" + +The man shrugged his shoulders. "I really don't know," he declared. "I +only repeat what I've heard once or twice up in London." + +"Tell me exactly what they say," demanded the girl, with quick interest. + +Her companion hesitated for a few seconds. "Well, whatever has been +said, I've always denied; for, as you know, I am a friend of both Lady +Heyburn and of your father." + +The girl's nostrils dilated slightly. Friend! Why, was not this man her +father's false friend? Was he not behind every sinister action of Lady +Heyburn's, and had not she herself, with her own ears, one day at Park +Street, four years ago, overheard her ladyship express a dastardly +desire in the words, "Oh, Henry is such a dreadful old bore, and so +utterly useless, that it's a shame a woman like myself should be tied up +to him. Fortunately for me, he already has one foot in the grave. +Otherwise I couldn't tolerate this life at all!" Those cruel words of +her stepmother's, spoken to this man who was at that moment her +companion, recurred to her. She recollected, too, Flockart's reply. + +This hollow pretence of friendship angered her. She knew that the man +was her father's enemy, and that he had united with the clever, scheming +woman in some ingenious conspiracy against the poor, helpless man. + +Therefore she turned, and, facing him boldly, said, "I wish, Mr. +Flockart, that you would please understand that I have no intention to +discuss my father or his affairs. The latter concern himself alone. He +does not even speak of them to his wife; therefore why should strangers +evince any interest in them?" + +"Because there are rumours--rumours of a mystery; and mysteries are +always interesting and attractive," was his answer. + +"True," she said meaningly. "Just as rumours concerning certain of my +father's guests possess an unusual interest for him, Mr. Flockart. +Though my father may be blind, his hearing is still excellent. And he is +aware of much more than you think." + +The man glanced at her for an instant, and his face darkened. The girl's +ominous words filled him with vague apprehension. Was it possible that +the blind man had any suspicion of what was intended? He held his +breath, and made another vicious cast far up the rippling stream. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +REVEALS A MYSTERIOUS BUSINESS + + +In the few days which followed, Lady Heyburn's attitude towards +Gabrielle became one of marked affection. She even kissed her in the +breakfast-room each morning, called her "dear," and consulted her upon +the day's arrangements. + +Poor Sir Henry was but a cipher in the household. He usually took all +his meals alone, except dinner, and was very seldom seen, save perhaps +when he would come out for an hour or so to walk in the park, led by his +daughter, or else, alone, tapping before him with his stout stick. On +such occasions he would wear a pair of big blue spectacles to hide the +unsightliness of his gray, filmy eyes. Sometimes he would sit on one of +the garden seats on the south side of the house, enjoying the sunshine, +and listening to the songs of the birds, the hum of the insects, and the +soft ripples of the burn far below. And on such occasions one of his +wife's guests would join him to chat and cheer him, for everyone felt +pity for the lonely man living his life of darkness. + +No one was more full of words of sympathy than James Flockart. Gabrielle +longed to warn her father of that man, but dared not do so. There was a +reason--a strong reason--for her silence. Sir Henry had declared that he +was interested in the man's intellectual conversation, and that he +rather liked him, though he had never looked upon his face. In some +things the old gentleman was ever ready to adopt his daughter's advice +and rely upon her judgment; but in others he was quite obstinate and +treated her pointed remarks with calm indifference. + +One day, at Lady Heyburn's suggestion, Gabrielle, accompanied by +Flockart and another of the guests, a retired colonel, had driven over +in the big car to Perth to make a call; and on their return she spent +some hours in the library with her father, attending to his +correspondence. + +That morning a big packet of those typed reports in French had arrived +in the usual registered, orange-coloured envelope, and after she had +read them over to the Baronet, he had given her the key, and she had got +out the code-book. Then, at his instructions, she had written upon a +yellow telegraph-form a cipher message addressed to the mysterious +"Meteforos, Paris." It read, when decoded:-- + +"Arrange with amethyst. I agree the price of pearls. Have no fear of +Smithson, but watch Peters. If London refuses, then Mayfair. Expect +report of Bedford." + +It was not signed by the Baronet's name, but by the signature he always +used on such telegraphic replies: "Senrab." + +From such a despatch she could gather nothing. At his request she took +away the little blue-covered book and relocked it in the safe. Then she +rang for Hill, and told him to send the despatch by messenger down to +Auchterarder village. + +"Very well, miss," replied the man, bowing. + +"The car is going down to take Mr. Seymour to the station in about a +quarter of an hour, so Stokes will take it." + +"And look here," exclaimed the blind man, who was standing before the +window with his back to the crimson sunset, "you can tell her ladyship, +Hill, that I'm very busy, and I shan't come in to dinner to-night. Just +serve a snack here for me, will you?" + +"Very well, Sir Henry," responded the smart footman; and, bowing again, +he closed the door. + +"May I dine with you, dad?" asked the girl. "There are two or three +people invited to-night, and they don't interest me in the least." + +"My dear child, what do you mean? Why, aren't Walter Murie and his +mother dining here to-night? I know your mother invited them ten days +ago." + +"Oh, why, yes," replied the girl rather lamely; "I did not recollect. +Then, I suppose, I must put in an appearance," she sighed. + +"Suppose!" he echoed. "What would Walter think if you elected to dine +with me instead of meeting him at table?" + +"Now, dad, it is really unkind of you!" she said reprovingly. "Walter +and I thoroughly understand each other. He's not surprised at anything I +do." + +"Ah!" laughed the sightless man, "he's already beginning to understand +the feminine perverseness, eh? Well, my child, dine here with me if you +wish, by all means. Tell Hill to lay the table for two. We have lots of +work to do afterwards." + +So the bell was rung again and Hill was informed that Miss Gabrielle +would dine with her father in the library. + +Then they turned again to the Baronet's mysterious private affairs; and +when she had seated herself at the typewriter and re-read the +reports--confidential reports they were, but framed in a manner which +only the old man himself could understand--he dictated to her cryptic +replies, the true nature of which were to her a mystery. + +The last of the reports, brief and unsigned, read as follows:-- + +"Mon petit garçon est très gravement malade, et je supplie Dieu à genoux +de ne pas me punir si severement, de ne pas me prendre mon enfant. + +"D'apres le dernier bulletin du Professeur Knieberger, il a la fièvre +scarlatine, et l'issue de la maladie est incertaine. Je ne quitte plus +son chevet. Et sans cesse je me dis, 'C'est une punition du Ciel.'" + +Gabrielle saw that, to the outside world, it was a statement by a +frantic mother that her child had caught scarlet-fever. "What could it +really mean?" she wondered. + +Slowly she read it, and as she did so noticed the curious effect it had +upon her father, seated as he was in the deep saddle-bag chair. His face +grew very grave, his thin white hands clenched themselves, and there was +an unusually bitter expression about his mouth. + +"Eh?" he asked, as though not quite certain of the words. "Read it +again, child, slower. I--I have to think." + +She obeyed, wondering if the key to the cryptic message were contained +in some conjunction of letters or words. It seemed as though, in +imagination, he was setting it down before him as she pronounced the +words. This was often so. At times he would have reports repeated to him +over and over again. + +"Ah!" he gasped at last, drawing a long breath, his hands still tightly +clenched, his countenance haggard and drawn. "I--I expected that. And so +it has come--at last!" + +"What, dad?" asked the girl in surprise, staring at the crisp +typewritten sheet before her. + +"Oh, well, nothing child--nothing," he answered, bestirring himself. + +"But the lady whoever she is, seems terribly concerned about her little +boy. The judgment of Heaven, she calls it." + +"And well she may, Gabrielle," he answered in a hoarse strained voice. +"Well she may, my dear. It is a punishment sent upon the wicked." + +"Is the mother wicked, then?" asked the girl in curiosity. + +"No, dear," he urged. "Don't try to understand, for you can never do +that. These reports convey to me alone the truth. They are intended to +mislead you, as they mislead other people." + +"Then there is no little boy suffering from scarlet-fever?" + +"Yes. Because it is written there," was his smiling reply. "But it only +refers to an imaginary child, and, by so doing, places a surprising and +alarming truth before me." + +"Is the matter so very serious, dad?" she asked, noticing the curious +effect the words had had upon him. + +"Serious!" he echoed, leaning forward in his chair. "Yes," he answered +in a low voice, "it is very serious, child, both to me and to you." + +"I don't understand you, dad," she exclaimed, walking to his chair +throwing herself upon her knees, and placing her arms around his neck. +"Won't you be more explicit? Won't you tell me the truth? Surely you can +rely upon my secrecy?" + +"Yes, child," he said, groping until his hand fell upon her hair, and +then stroking it tenderly; "I trust you. You keep my affairs from those +people who seek to obtain knowledge of them. Without you, I would be +compelled to employ a secretary; but he could be bought, without a +doubt. Most secretaries can." + +"Ford was very trustworthy, was he not?" + +"Yes, poor Ford," he sighed. "When he died I lost my right hand. But +fortunately you were old enough to take his place." + +"But in a case like this, when you are worried and excited, as you are +at this moment, why not confide in me and allow me to help you?" she +suggested. "You see that, although I act as your secretary, dad, I know +nothing of the nature of your business." + +"And forgive me for speaking very plainly, child, I do not intend that +you should," the old man said. + +"Because you cannot trust me!" she pouted. "You think that because I'm a +woman I cannot keep a secret." + +"Not at all," he said. "I place every confidence in you, dear. You are +the only real friend left to me in the whole world. I know that you +would never willingly betray me to my enemies; but----" + +"Well, but what?" + +"But you might do so unknowingly. You might by one single chance-word +place me within the power of those who seek my downfall." + +"Who seeks your downfall, dad?" she asked very seriously. + +"That's a matter which I desire to keep to myself. Unfortunately, I do +not know the identity of my enemies; hence I am compelled to keep from +you certain matters which, in other circumstances, you might know. But," +he added, "this is not the first time we've discussed this question, +Gabrielle dear. You are my daughter, and I trust you. Do not, child, +misjudge me by suspecting that I doubt your loyalty." + +"I don't, dad; only sometimes I----" + +"Sometimes you think," he said, still stroking her hair--"you think that +I ought to tell you the reason I receive all these reports from Paris, +and their real significance. Well, to tell the truth, dear, it is best +that you should not know. If you reflect for a moment," went on the old +man, tears welling slowly in his filmy, sightless eyes, "you will +realise my unhappy situation--how I am compelled to hide my affairs even +from Lady Heyburn herself. Does she ever question you regarding them?" + +"She used to at one time; but she refrains nowadays, for I would tell +her nothing." + +"Has anyone else ever tried to glean information from you?" he inquired, +after a long breath. + +"Mr. Flockart has done so on several occasions of late. But I pleaded +absolute ignorance." + +"Oh, Flockart has been asking you, has he?" remarked her father with +surprise. "Well, I suppose it is only natural. A blind man's doings are +always more or less a mystery to the world." + +"I don't like Mr. Flockart, dad," she said. + +"So you've remarked before, my dear," her father replied. "Of course you +are right in withholding any information upon a subject which is my own +affair; yet, on the other hand, you should always remember that he is +your mother's very good friend--and yours also." + +"Mine!" gasped the girl, starting up. Would that she were free to tell +the poor, blind, helpless man the ghastly truth! "My friend, dad! What +makes you think that?" + +"Because he is always singing your praises, both to me and your mother." + +"Then I tell you that his expressions of opinion are false, dear dad." + +"How?" + +She was silent. She dared not tell her father the reason; therefore, in +order to turn the subject, she replied, with a forced laugh, "Oh, well, +of course, I may be mistaken; but that's my opinion." + +"A mere prejudice, child; I'm sure it is. As far as I know, Flockart is +quite an excellent fellow, and is most kind both to your mother and to +myself." + +Gabrielle's brow contracted. Disengaging herself, she rose to her feet, +and, after a pause, asked, "What reply shall I send to the report, dad?" + +"Ah, that report!" gasped the man, huddled up in his chair in serious +reflection. "That report!" he repeated, rising to straighten himself. +"Reply in these words: 'No effort is to be made to save the child's +life. On the contrary, it is to be so neglected as to produce a fatal +termination.'" + +The girl had seated herself at the typewriter and rapidly clicked out +the words in French--words that seemed ominous enough, and yet the true +meaning of which she never dreamed. She was thinking only of her +father's misplaced friendship in James Flockart. If she dared to tell +him the naked truth! Oh, if her poor, blind, afflicted father could only +see! + + + + +CHAPTER X + +DECLARES A WOMAN'S LOVE + + +At nine o'clock that night Gabrielle left her father, and ascended to +her own pretty room, with its light chintz-covered furniture, its +well-filled bamboo bookcases, its little writing-table, and its narrow +bed in the alcove. It was a nest of rest and cosy comfort. + +Exchanging her tweed dress, she put on an easy dressing-gown of pale +blue cashmere, drew up an armchair, and, arranging her electric +reading-lamp, sat down to a new novel she intended to finish. + +Presently Elise came to her; but, looking up, she said she did not wish +to be disturbed, and again coiled herself up in the chair, endeavouring +to concentrate her thoughts upon her book. But all to no purpose. Ever +and anon she would lift her big eyes from the printed page, sigh, and +stare fixedly at the rose-coloured trellis pattern of the wall-paper +opposite. Upon her there had fallen a feeling of vague apprehension such +as she had never before experienced, a feeling that something was about +to happen. + +Lady Heyburn was, she knew, greatly annoyed that she had not made her +appearance at dinner or in the drawing-room afterwards. Generally, when +there were guests from the neighbourhood, she was compelled to sing one +or other of her Italian songs. Her refusal to come to dinner would, she +knew, cause her ladyship much chagrin, for it showed plainly to the +guests that her authority over her step-daughter was entirely at an end. + +Just as the stable-clock chimed half-past ten there came a light tap at +the door. It was Hill, who, on receiving permission to enter, said, "If +you please, miss, Mr. Murie has just asked me to give you this"; and he +handed her an envelope. + +Tearing it open eagerly, she found a visiting-card, upon which some +words were scribbled in pencil. For a moment after reading them she +paused. Then she said, "Tell Mr. Murie it will be all right." + +"Very well, miss," the man replied, and, bowing, closed the door. + +For a few moments she stood motionless in the centre of the room, her +lover's card still in her hand. Then she walked to the open window, and +looked out into the hot, oppressive night. The moon was hidden behind +dark clouds, and the stillness was precursory of the thunderstorm which +for the past hour or so had threatened. Across the room she paced slowly +several times, a deep, anxious expression upon her pale countenance; +then slowly she slipped off her gown and put on a dark stuff dress. + +Until the clock had struck eleven she waited. Then, assuming her +tam-o'-shanter and twisting a silk scarf about her neck, she crept along +the corridor and down the wide oak stairs. Lights were still burning; +but without detection she slipped out by the main door, and, crossing +the broad drive, took the winding path into the woods. + +The guests had all left, and the servants were closing the house for the +night. Scarce had she gone a hundred yards when a dark figure in +overcoat and a golf-cap loomed up before her, and she found Walter at +her side. + +"Why, dearest!" he exclaimed, taking her hand and bending till he +pressed it to his lips, "I began to fear you wouldn't come. Why haven't +I seen you to-night?" + +"Because--well, because I had a bad headache," was her lame reply. "I +knew that if I went in to dinner mother would want me to sing, and I +really didn't feel up to it. I hope, however, you haven't been bored too +much." + +"You know I have!" he said quickly in a low, earnest voice. "I came here +purposely to see you, and you were invisible. I've run the car down the +farm-road on the other side of the park, and left it there. The mater +went home in the carriage nearly an hour ago. She's afraid to go in the +car when I drive." + +Slowly they strolled together along the dark path, he with her arm held +tenderly under his own. + +"Think, darling," he said, "I haven't seen you for four whole days! Why +is it? Yesterday I went to the usual spot at the end of the glen, and +waited nearly two hours; but you did not come, although you promised me, +you know. Why are you so indifferent, dearest?" he asked in a plaintive +tone. "I can't really make you out of late." + +"I'm not indifferent at all, Walter," she declared. "My father has very +much to attend to just now, and I'm compelled to assist him, as you are +well aware. He's so utterly helpless." + +"Oh, but you might spare me just half-an-hour sometimes," he said in a +slight tone of reproach. + +"I do. Why, we surely see each other very often!" + +"Not often enough for me, Gabrielle," he declared, halting in the +darkness and raising her soft little hand to his eager lips. "You know +well enough how fondly I love you, how--" + +"I know," she said in a sad, blank tone. Her own heart beat fast at his +passionate words. + +"Then why do you treat me like this?" he asked. "Is it because I have +annoyed you, that you perhaps think I am not keeping faith with you? I +know I was absent a long time, but it was really not my own fault. My +people made me go round the world. I didn't want to, I assure you. I'd +far rather have been up here at Connachan all the time, and near you, my +own well-beloved." + +"I believe you would, Walter," she answered, turning towards him with +her hand upon his shoulder. "But I do wish you wouldn't reproach me for +my undemonstrativeness each time we meet. It saddens me." + +"I know I ought not to reproach you," he hastened to assure her. "I have +no right to do so; but somehow you have of late grown so sphinx-like +that you are not the Gabrielle I used to know." + +"Why not?" And she laughed, a strange, hollow laugh. "Explain yourself." + +"In the days gone by, before I went abroad, you were not so particular +about our meetings being clandestine. You did not care who saw us or +what people might say." + +"I was a girl then. I have now learnt wisdom, and the truth of the +modern religion which holds that the only sin is that of being found +out." + +"But why are you so secret in all your actions?" he demanded. "Whom do +you fear?" + +"Fear!" she echoed, starting and staring in his direction. "Why, I fear +nobody! What--what makes you think that?" + +"Because it has lately struck me that you meet me in secret +because--well, because you are afraid of someone, or do not wish us to +be seen." + +"Why, how very foolish!" she laughed. "Don't my father and mother both +know that we love each other? Besides, I am surely my own mistress. I +would never marry a man I don't love," she added in a tone of quiet +defiance. + +"And am I to take it that you really do love me, after all?" he inquired +very earnestly. + +"Why, of course," she replied without hesitation, again placing her arm +about his neck and kissing him. "How foolish of you to ask such a +question, Walter! When will you be convinced that the answer I gave you +long ago was the actual truth?" + +"Men who love as fervently as I do are apt to be somewhat foolish," he +declared. + +"Then don't be foolish any longer," she urged in a matter-of-fact voice, +lifting her lips to his and kissing him. "You know I love you, Walter; +therefore you should also know that it I avoid you in public I have some +good reason for doing so." + +"A reason!" he cried. "What reason? Tell me." + +She shook her head. "That is my own affair," she responded. "I repeat +again that my affection for you is undiminished, if such repetition +really pleases you, as it seems to do." + +"Of course it pleases me, dearest," he declared. "No words are sweeter +to my ears than the declaration of your love. My only regret is that, +now I am at home again, I do not see so much of you, sweetheart, as I +had anticipated." + +"Walter," she exclaimed in a slow, changed voice, after a brief silence, +"there is a reason. Please do not ask me to tell you--because--well, +because I can't." And, drawing a long breath, she added, "All I beg of +you is to remain patient and trust in me. I love you; and I love no +other man. Surely that should be, for you, all-sufficient. I am yours, +and yours only." + +In an instant he had folded her slight, dainty form in his arms. The +young man was satisfied, perfectly satisfied. + +They strolled on together through the wood, and out across the open +corn-fields. The moon had come forth again, the storm-clouds had passed, +and the night was perfect. Though she was trying against her will to +hold aloof from Walter Murie, yet she loved him with all her heart and +soul. Many letters she had addressed to him in his travels had remained +unanswered. This had, in a measure, piqued her. But she was in ignorance +that much of his correspondence and hers had fallen into the hands of +her ladyship and been destroyed. + +As they walked on, talking as lovers will, she was thinking deeply, and +full of regret that she dared not tell the truth to this man who, loving +her so fondly, would, she knew, be prepared to make any sacrifice for +her sake. Suppose he knew the truth! Whatever sacrifice he made would, +alas! not alter facts. If she confessed, he would only hate her. Ah, the +tragedy of it all! Therefore she held her silence; she dared not speak +lest she might lose his love. She had no friend in whom she could +confide. From her own father, even, she was compelled to hide the actual +facts. They were too terrible. What would he think if the bitter truth +were exposed? + +The man at her side, tall, brave, strong--a lover whom she knew many +girls coveted--believed that he was to marry her. But, she told herself +within her grief-stricken heart, such a thing could never be. A barrier +stood between them, invisible, yet nevertheless one that might for ever +debar their mutual happiness. + +An involuntary sigh escaped her, and he inquired the reason. She excused +herself by saying that it was owing to the exertion of walking over the +rough path. Therefore they halted, and, with the bright summer moonbeams +falling upon her beautiful countenance, he kissed her passionately upon +the lips again and yet again. + +They remained together for over an hour, moving along slowly, heedless +of where their footsteps led them; heedless, too, of being seen by any +of the keepers who, at night, usually patrolled the estate. Their walk, +however, lay at the farther end of the glen, in the coverts remote from +the house and nearer the high-road; therefore there was but little +danger of being observed. + +Many were the pledges of affection they exchanged before parting. On +Walter's part they were fervent and passionate, but on the part of his +idol they were, alas! only the pretence of a happiness which she feared +could never be permanent. + +Presently they retraced their steps to the edge of the wood beyond which +lay the house. They found the path, and there, at her request, he left +her. It was not wise that he should approach the house at that hour, she +urged. + +So, after a long and fervent leave-taking, he held her in a last +embrace, and then, raising his cap, and saying, "Good-night, my darling, +my own well-beloved!" he turned away and went at a swinging pace down +the farm-road where he had left his car with lights extinguished. + +She watched him disappear. Then, sighing, she turned into the dark, +winding path beneath the trees, the end of which came out upon the drive +close to the house. + +Half-way down, however, with sudden resolve, she took a narrower path to +the left, and was soon on the outskirts of the wood and out again in the +bright moonlight. + +The night was so glorious that she had resolved to stroll alone, to +think and devise some plan for the future. Before her, silhouetted high +against the steely sky, rose the two great, black, ivy-clad towers of +the ancient castle. The grim, crumbling walls stood dark and frowning +amid the fairy-like scene, while from far below came up the faint +rippling of the Ruthven Water. A great owl flapped lazily from the ivy +as she approached those historic old walls which in bygone days had held +within them some of Scotland's greatest men. She had explored and knew +every nook and cranny in those extensive ruins. With Walter's +assistance, she had once made a perilous ascent to the top of the +highest of the two square towers, and had often clambered along the +broken walls of the keep or descended into those strange little +subterranean chambers, now half-choked with earth and rubbish, which +tradition declared were the dungeons in which prisoners in the old days +had been put to the rack, seared with red-hot irons, or submitted to +other horrible tortures. + +Her feet falling noiselessly, she entered the grass-grown courtyard, +where stood the ancient spreading yew, the "dule-tree," under which the +Glencardine charters had been signed and justice administered. Other big +trees had sprung from seedlings since the place had fallen into ruin; +and, having entered, she paused amidst its weird, impressive silence. +Those high, ponderous walls about her spoke mutely of strength and +impregnability. Those grass-grown mounds hid ruined walls and broken +foundations. What tales of wild lawlessness and reckless bloodshed they +all could tell! + +Many of the strange stories she had heard concerning the old +place--stories told by the people in the neighbourhood--were recalled as +she stood there gazing wonderingly about her. Many romantic legends had, +indeed, been handed down in Perthshire from generation to generation +concerning old Glencardine and its lawless masters, and for her they had +always possessed a strange fascination, for had she not inherited the +antiquarian tastes of her father, and had she not read many works upon +folklore and such-like subjects. + +Suddenly, while standing in the deep shadow, gazing thoughtfully up at +those high towers which, though ruined, still guarded the end of the +glen, a strange thing occurred--something which startled her, causing +her to halt breathless, petrified, rooted to the spot. She stared +straight before her. Something uncanny was happening there, something +that was, indeed, beyond human credence, and quite inexplicable. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CONCERNS THE WHISPERS + + +What had startled Gabrielle was certainly extraordinary and decidedly +uncanny. She was standing near the southern wall, when, of a sudden, she +heard low but distinct whispers. Again she listened. Yes. The sounds +were not due to her excited imagination at the recollection of those +romantic traditions of love and hatred, or of those gruesome stories of +how the Wolf of Badenoch had been kept prisoner there for five years and +put to frightful tortures, or how the Laird of Weem was deliberately +poisoned in that old banqueting-hall, the huge open fireplace of which +still existed near where she stood. + +There was the distinct sound of low, whispered words! She held her +breath to listen. She tried to distinguish what the words were, but in +vain. Then she endeavoured to determine whence they emanated, but was +unable to do so. Again they sounded--again--and yet again. Then there +was another voice, still low, still whispering, but not quite so deep as +the first. It sounded like a woman's. + +Local tradition had it that the place held the ghosts of those who had +died in agony within its noisome dungeons; but she had always been far +too matter-of-fact to accept stories of the supernatural. Yet at that +moment her ears did not deceive her. That pile of grim, gaunt ruins was +a House of Whispers! + +Again she listened, never moving a muscle. An owl hooted weirdly in the +ivy far above her, while near, at her feet, a rabbit scuttled away +through the grass. Such noises she was used to. She knew every +night-sound of the country-side; for when she had finished her work in +the library she often went, unknown to the household, with Stewart upon +his nocturnal rounds, and walked miles through the woods in the night. +The grey-eyed, thin-nosed head-keeper was her particular favourite. He +knew so much of natural history, and he taught her all he knew. She +could distinguish the cries of birds in the night, and could tell by +certain sounds made by them, as they were disturbed, that no other +intruders were in the vicinity. But that weird whispering, coming as it +did from an undiscovered source, was inhuman and utterly uncanny. + +Was it possible that her ears had deceived her? Was it one of the omens +believed in by the superstitious? The wall whence the voices appeared to +emanate was, she knew, about seven feet thick--an outer wall of the old +keep. She was aware of this because in one of the folio tomes in the +library was a picture of the castle as it appeared in 1510, taken from +some manuscript of that period preserved in the British Museum. She, who +had explored the ruins dozens of times, knew well that at the point +where she was standing there could be no place of concealment. Beyond +that wall, the hill, covered with bushes and brushwood, descended sheer +for three hundred feet or so to the bottom of the glen. Had the voices +sounded from one or other of the half-choked chambers which remained +more or less intact she would not have been so puzzled; but, as it was, +the weird whisperings seemed to come forth from space. Sometimes they +sounded so low that she could scarcely hear them; at others they were so +loud that she could almost distinguish the words uttered by the unseen. +Was it merely a phenomenon caused by the wind blowing through some crack +in the ponderous lichen-covered wall? + +She looked beyond at the great dark yew, the justice-tree of the +Grahams. The night was perfectly calm. Not a leaf stirred either upon +that or upon the other trees. The ivy, high above and exposed to the +slightest breath of a breeze, was motionless; only the going and coming +of the night-birds moved it. No. She decided once and for all that the +noise was that of voices, spectral voices though they might be. + +Again she strained her eyes, when still again those soft, sibilant +whisperings sounded weird and quite inexplicable. + +Slowly, and with greatest caution, she moved along beneath the wall, but +as she did so she seemed to recede from the sound. So back she went to +the spot where she had previously stood, and there again remained +listening. + +There were two distinct voices; at least that was the conclusion at +which she arrived after nearly a quarter of an hour of most minute +investigation. + +Once she fancied, in her excitement, that away in the farther corner of +the ruined courtyard she saw a slowly moving form like a thin column of +mist. Was it the Lady of Glencardine--the apparition of the hapless Lady +Jane Glencardine? But on closer inspection she decided that it was +merely due to her own distorted imagination, and dismissed it from her +mind. + +Those low, curious whisperings alone puzzled her. They were certainly +not sounds that could be made by any rodents within the walls, because +they were voices, distinctly and indisputably _voices_, which at some +moments were raised in argument, and then fell away into sounds of +indistinct murmuring. Whence did they come? She again moved noiselessly +from place to place, at length deciding that only at one point--the +point where she had first stood--could the sounds be heard distinctly. +So to that spot once more the girl returned, standing there like a +statue, her ears strained for every sound, waiting and wondering. But +the Whispers had now ceased. In the distance the stable-clock chimed +two. Yet she remained at her post, determined to solve the mystery, and +not in the least afraid of those weird stories which the country-folk in +the Highlands so entirely believed. No ghost, of whatever form, could +frighten her, she told herself. She had never believed in omens or +superstitions, and she steeled herself not to believe in them now. So +she remained there in patience, seeking some natural solution of the +extraordinary enigma. + +But though she waited until the chimes rang out three o'clock and the +moon was going down, she heard no other sound. The Whispers had suddenly +ended, and the silence of those gaunt, frowning old walls was +undisturbed. A slight wind had now sprung up, sweeping across the hills, +and causing her to feel chill. Therefore, at last she was reluctantly +compelled to quit her post of observation, and retrace her steps by the +rough byroad to the house, entering by one of the windows of the +morning-room, of which the burglar-alarm was broken, and which on many +occasions she had unfastened after her nocturnal rambles with Stewart. +Indeed, concealed under the walls she kept an old rusted table-knife, +and by its aid it was her habit to push back the catch and so gain +entrance, after reconcealing the knife for use on a future occasion. + +On reaching her own room she stood for a few moments reflecting deeply +upon her remarkable and inexplicable discovery. Had the story of those +whisperings been told to her she would certainly have scouted them; but +she had heard them with her own ears, and was certain that she had not +been deceived. It was a mystery, absolute and complete; and, regarding +it as such, she retired to bed. + +But her thoughts were very naturally full of the weird story told of the +dead and gone owners of Glencardine. She recollected that horrible story +of the Ghaist of Manse and of the spectre of Bridgend. In the library +she had, a year ago, discovered a strange old book--one which sixty +years before had been in universal circulation--entitled _Satan's +Invisible World Discovered_, and she had read it from beginning to end. +This book had, perhaps, more influence upon the simple-minded country +people in Scotland than any other work. It consisted entirely of +relations of ghosts of murdered persons, witches, warlocks, and fairies; +and as it was read as an indoor amusement in the presence of children, +and followed up by unfounded tales of the same description, the +youngsters were afraid to turn round in case they might be grasped by +the "Old One." So strong, indeed, became this impression that even +grown-up people would not venture, through fear, into another room or +down a stair after nightfall. + +Her experience in the old castle had, to say the least, been remarkable. +Those weird whisperings were extraordinary. For hours she lay reflecting +upon the many traditions of the old place, some recorded in the historic +notices of the House of the Montrose, and others which had gathered from +local sources--the farmers of the neighbourhood, the keepers, and +servants. Those noises in the night were mysterious and puzzling. + +Next morning she went alone to the kennels to find Stewart and to +question him. He had told her many weird stories and traditions of the +old place, and it struck her that he might be able to furnish her with +some information regarding her strange discovery. Had anyone else heard +those Whispers besides herself, she wondered. + +She met several of the guests, but assiduously avoided them, until at +last she saw the thin, long-legged keeper going towards his cottage with +Dash, the faithful old spaniel, at his heels. + +When she hailed him he touched his cap respectfully, changed his gun to +the other arm, and wished her "Guid-mornin', Miss Gabrielle," in his +strong Scotch accent. + +She bade him put down his gun and walk with her up the hill towards the +ruins. + +"Look here, Stewart," she commanded in a confidential tone, "I'm going +to take you into my confidence. I know I can trust you with a secret." + +"Ye may, miss," replied the keen-eyed Scot. "I houp Sir Henry trusts me +as a faithfu' servant. I've been on Glencardine estate noo, miss, thae +forty year." + +"Stewart, we all know you are faithful, and that you can keep your +tongue still. What I'm about to tell you is in strictest confidence. Not +even my father knows it." + +"Ah! then it's a secret e'en frae the laird, eh?" + +"Yes," she replied. "I want you to come up to the old castle with me," +pointing to the great ruined pile standing boldly in the summer +sunlight, "and I want you to tell me all you know. I've had a very +uncanny experience there." + +"What, miss!" exclaimed the man, halting and looking her seriously in +the face; "ha'e ye seen the ghaist?" + +"No, I haven't seen any ghost," replied the girl; "but last night I +heard most extraordinary sounds, as though people were within the old +walls." + +"Guid sake, miss! an' ha'e ye actually h'ard the Whispers?" he gasped. + +"Then other people have heard them, eh?" inquired the girl quickly. +"Tell me all you know about the matter, Stewart." + +"A'?" he said, slowly shaking his head. "I ken but a wee bittie aboot +the noises." + +"Who has heard them besides myself?" + +"Maxwell o'Tullichuil's girl. She said she h'ard the Whispers ae nicht +aboot a year syne. They're a bad omen, miss, for the lassie deed sudden +a fortnicht later." + +"Did anyone else hear them?" + +"Auld Willie Buchan, wha lived doon in Auchterarder village, declared +that ae nicht, while poachin' for rabbits, he h'ard the voices. He telt +the doctor sae when he lay in bed a-deein' aboot three weeks +aifterwards. Ay, miss, I'm sair sorry ye've h'ard the Whispers." + +"Then they're regarded as a bad omen to those who overhear them?" she +remarked. + +"That's sae. There's bin ithers wha acted as eavesdroppers, an' they a' +deed very sune aifterwards. There was Jean Kirkwood an' Geordie +Menteith. The latter was a young keeper I had here aboot a year syne. He +cam' tae me ae mornin' an' said that while lyin' up for poachers the +nicht afore, he distinc'ly h'ard the Whispers. Kennin' what folk say +aboot the owerhearin' o' them bein' fatal, I lauched at 'im an' told 'im +no' to tak' ony tent o' auld wives' gossip. But, miss, sure enough, +within a week he got blood-pizinin', an', though they took 'im to the +hospital in Perth, he deed." + +"Then popular superstition points to the fact that anyone who +accidentally acts as eavesdropper is doomed to death, eh? A very nice +outlook for me!" she remarked. + +"Oh, Miss Gabrielle!" exclaimed the man, greatly concerned, "dinna treat +the maitter lichtly, I beg o' ye. I did, wi' puir Menteith, an' he deed +juist like the ithers." + +"But what does it all mean?" asked the daughter of the house in a calm, +matter-of-fact voice. She knew well that Stewart was just as +superstitious as any of his class, for some of the stories he had told +her had been most fearful and wonderful elaborations of historical fact. + +"It means, I'm fear'd, miss," he replied, "that the Whispers which come +frae naewhere are fore-warnin's o' daith." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +EXPLAINS SOME CURIOUS FACTS + + +Gabrielle was silent for a moment. No doubt Stewart meant what he said; +he was not endeavouring to alarm her unduly, but thoroughly believed in +supernatural agencies. "I suppose you've already examined the ruins +thoroughly, eh?" she asked at last. + +"Examined them?" echoed the gray-bearded man. "I should think sae, +aifter forty-odd years here. Why, as a laddie I used to play there ilka +day, an' ha'e been in ilka neuk an' cranny." + +"Nevertheless, come up now with me," she said. "I want to explain to you +exactly where and how I heard the voices." + +"The Whispers are an uncanny thing," said the keeper, with his broad +accent. "I dinna like them, miss; I dinna like tae hear what ye tell me +ava." + +"Oh, don't worry about me, Stewart," she laughed. "I'm not afraid of any +omen. I only mean to fathom the mystery, and I want your assistance in +doing so. But, of course, you'll say no word to a soul. Remember that." + +"If it be yer wush, Miss Gabrielle, I'll say naething," he promised. And +together they descended the steep grass-slope and overgrown foundations +of the castle until they stood in the old courtyard, close to the +ancient justice-tree, the exact spot where the girl had stood on the +previous night. + +"I could hear plainly as I stood just here," she said. "The sound of +voices seemed to come from that wall there"; and she pointed to the gray +flint wall, half-overgrown with ivy, about six yards away. + +Stewart made no remark. It was not the first occasion on which he had +examined that place in an attempt to solve the mystery of the nocturnal +whisperings. He walked across to the wall, tapping it with his hand, +while the faithful spaniel began sniffing in expectancy of something to +bolt. "There's naething here, miss--absolutely naething," he declared, +as they both examined the wall minutely. Its depth did not admit of any +chamber, for it was an inner wall; and, according to the gamekeeper's +statement, he had already tested it years ago, and found it solid +masonry. + +"If I went forward or backward, then the sounds were lost to me," +Gabrielle explained, much puzzled. + +"Ay. That's juist what they a' said," remarked the keeper, with an +apprehensive look upon his face. "The Whispers are only h'ard at ae +spot, whaur ye've juist stood. I've seen the lady a' in green masel', +miss--aince when I was a laddie, an' again aboot ten year syne." + +"You mean, Stewart, that you imagined that you saw an apparition. You +were alone, I suppose?" + +"Yes, miss, I was alane." + +"Well, you thought you saw the Lady of Glencardine. Where was she?" + +"On the drive, in front o' the hoose." + +"Perhaps somebody played a practical joke on you. The Green Lady is +Glencardine's favourite spectre, isn't she--perfectly harmless, I mean?" + +"Ay, miss. Lots o' folk saw her ten year syne. But nooadays she seems to +ha'e been laid. Somebody said they saw her last Glesca holidays, but I +dinna believe 't." + +"Neither do I, Stewart. But don't let's trouble about the unfortunate +lady, who ought to have been at rest long ago. It's those weird +whisperings I mean to investigate." And she looked blankly around her at +the great, cyclopean walls and high, weather-beaten towers, gaunt yet +picturesque in the morning sunshine. + +The keeper shook his shaggy head. "I'm afear'd, Miss Gabrielle, that +ye'll ne'er solve the mystery. There's somethin' sae fatal aboot the +whisperin's," he said, speaking in his pleasant Highland tongue, "that +naebody cares tae attempt the investigation. They div say that the +Whispers are the voice o' the De'il himsel'." + +The girl, in her short blue serge skirt, white cotton blouse, and blue +tam-o'-shanter, laughed at the man's dread. There must be a distinct +cause for this noise she had heard, she argued. Yet, though they both +spent half-an-hour wandering among the ruins, standing in the roofless +banqueting hall, and traversing stone corridors and lichen-covered, +moss-grown, ruined chambers choked with weeds, their efforts to obtain +any clue were all in vain. + +To Gabrielle it was quite evident that the old keeper regarded the +incident of the previous night as a fatal omen, for he was most +solicitous of her welfare. He went so far as to crave permission to go +to Sir Henry and put the whole of the mysterious facts before him. + +But she would not hear of it. She meant to solve the mystery herself. If +her father learnt of the affair, and of the ill-omen connected with it, +the matter would surely cause him great uneasiness. Why should he be +worried on her account? No, she would never allow it, and told Stewart +plainly of her disapproval of such a course. + +"But, tell me," she asked at last, as returning to the courtyard, they +stood together at the spot where she had stood in that moonlit hour and +heard with her own ears those weird, mysterious voices coming from +nowhere--"tell me, Stewart, is there any legend connected with the +Whispers? Have you ever heard any story concerning their origin?" + +"Of coorse, miss. Through all Perthshire it's weel kent," replied the +man slowly, not, it seemed, without considerable reluctance. "What is +h'ard by those doomed tae daith is the conspiracy o' Charles Lord +Glencardine an' the Earl o' Kintyre for the murder o' the infamous +Cardinal Setoun o' St. Andrews, wha, as I dare say ye ken fra history, +miss, was assassinated here, on this very spot whaur we stan'. The Earl +o' Kintyre, thegither wi' Lord Glencardine, his dochter Mary, an' ane o' +the M'Intyres o' Talnetry, an' Wemyss o' Strathblane, were a year later +tried by a commission issued under the name o' Mary Queen o' Scots; but +sae popular was the murder o' the Cardinal that the accused were +acquitted." + +"Yes," exclaimed the girl, "I remember reading something about it in +Scottish history. And the Whispers are, I suppose, said to be the +ghostly conspirators in conclave." + +"That's what folk say, miss. They div say as weel that Auld Nick himsel' +was present, an' gied the decision that the Cardinal, wha was to be +askit ower frae Stirlin', should dee. It is his evil counsel that is +h'ard by those whom death will quickly overtake." + +"Really, Stewart," she laughed, "you make me feel quite uncomfortable." + +"But, miss, Sir Henry already kens a' aboot the Whispers," said the man. +"I h'ard him tellin' a young gentleman wha cam' doon last shootin' +season a guid dale aboot it. They veesited the auld castle thegither, +an' I happened tae be hereaboots." + +This caused the girl to resolve to learn from her father what she could. +He was an antiquary, and had the history of Glencardine at his +finger-ends. + +So presently she strolled back to Stewart's cottage, and after receiving +from the faithful servant urgent injunctions to "have a care" of +herself, she walked on to the tennis-lawn, where, shaded by the high +trees, Lady Heyburn, in white serge, and three of her male guests were +playing. + +"Father," she said that same evening, when they had settled down to +commence work upon those ever-arriving documents from Paris, "what was +the cause of Glencardine becoming a ruin?" + +"Well, the reason of its downfall was Lord Glencardine's change of +front," he answered. "In 1638 he became a stalwart supporter of +Episcopacy and Divine Right, a course which proved equally fatal to +himself and to his ancient Castle of Glencardine. Reid, in his _Annals +of Auchterarder_, relates how, after the Civil War, Lord Dundrennan, in +company with his cousin, George Lochan of Ochiltree, and burgess of +Auchterarder and the Laird of M'Nab, descended into Strathearn and +occupied the castle with about fifty men. He hurriedly put it into a +state of defence. General Overton besieged the place in person, with his +army, consisting of eighteen hundred foot and eleven hundred horse, and +battered the walls with cannon, having brought a number of great +ordnance from Stirling Castle. For ten days the castle was held by the +small but resolute garrison, and might have held out longer had not the +well failed. With the prospect of death before them in the event of the +place being taken, Dundrennan and Lochan contrived to break through the +enemy, who surrounded the castle on all sides. A page of the name of +John Hamilton, in attendance upon Lord Dundrennan, well acquainted with +the localities of Glencardine, undertook to be their guide. When the +moon was down, Dundrennan and Lochan issued from the castle by a small +postern, where they found Hamilton waiting for them with three horses. +They mounted, and, passing quietly through the enemy's force, they +escaped, and reached Lord Glencardine in safety to the north. On the +morning after their escape the castle was surrendered, and thirty-five +of the garrison were sent to the Tolbooth of Edinburgh. General Overton +ordered the remaining twelve of those who had surrendered to be shot at +a post, and the castle to be burned, which was accordingly done." + +"The country-folk in the neighbourhood are full of strange stories about +ghostly whisperings being heard in the castle ruins," she remarked. + +Her father started, and raising his expressionless face to hers, asked +in almost a snappish tone, "Well, and who has heard them now, pray?" + +"Several people, I believe." + +"And they're gossiping as usual, eh?" he remarked in a hard, dry tone. +"Up here in the Highlands they are ridiculously superstitious. Who's +been telling you about the Whispers, child?" + +"Oh, I've learnt of them from several people," she replied evasively. +"Mysterious voices were heard, they say, last night, and for several +nights previously. It's also a local tradition that all those who hear +the whispered warning die within forty days." + +"Bosh, my dear! utter rubbish!" the old man laughed. "Who's been trying +to frighten you?" + +"Nobody, dad. I merely tell you what the country people say." + +"Yes," he remarked, "I know. The story is a gruesome one, and in the +Highlands a story is not attractive unless it has some fatality in it. +Up here the belief in demonology and witchcraft has died very hard. Get +down Penny's _Traditions of Perth_--first shelf to the left beyond the +second window, right-hand corner. It will explain to you how very +superstitious the people have ever been." + +"I know all that, dad," persisted the girl; "but I'm interested in this +extraordinary story of the Whispers. You, as an antiquary, have, no +doubt, investigated all the legendary lore connected with Glencardine. +The people declare that the Whispers are heard, and, I am told, believe +some extraordinary theory regarding them." + +"A theory!" he exclaimed quickly. "What theory? What has been +discovered?" + +"Nothing, as far as I know." + +"No, and nothing ever will be discovered," he said. + +"Why not, dad?" she asked. "Do you deny that strange noises are heard +there when there is so much evidence in the affirmative?" + +"I really don't know, my dear. I've never had the pleasure of hearing +them myself, though I've been told of them ever since I bought the +place." + +"But there is a legend which is supposed to account for them, is there +not, dad? Do tell me what you know," she urged. "I'm so very much +interested in the old place and its bygone history." + +"The less you know concerning the Whispers the better, my dear," he +replied abruptly. + +Her father's ominous words surprised her. Did he, too, believe in the +fatal omen, though he was trying to mislead her and poke fun at the +local superstition? + +"But why shouldn't I know?" she protested. "This is the first time, dad, +that you've tried to withhold from me any antiquarian knowledge that you +possess. Besides, the story of Glencardine and its lords is intensely +fascinating to me." + +"So might be the Whispers, if ever you had the misfortune to hear them." + +"Misfortune!" she gasped, turning pale. "Why do you say misfortune?" + +But he laughed a strange, hollow laugh, and, endeavouring to turn his +seriousness into humour, said, "Well, they might give you a turn, +perhaps. They would make me start, I feel sure. From what I've been +told, they seem to come from nowhere. It is practically an unseen +spectre who has the rather unusual gift of speech." + +It was on the tip of her tongue to explain how, on the previous night, +she had actually listened to the Whispers. But she refrained. She +recognised that, though he would not admit it, he was nevertheless +superstitious of ill results following the hearing of those weird +whisperings. So she made eager pretence of wishing to know the +historical facts of the incident referred to by the gamekeeper. + +"No," exclaimed the blind man softly but firmly, taking her hand and +stroking her arm tenderly, as was his habit when he wished to persuade +her. "No, Gabrielle dear," he said; "we will change the subject now. Do +not bother your head about absurd country legends of that sort. There +are so many concerning Glencardine and its lords that a whole volume +might be filled with them." + +"But I want to know all about this particular one, dad," she said. + +"From me you will never know, my dear," was his answer, as his gray, +serious face was upturned to hers. "You have never heard the Whispers, +and I sincerely hope that you never will." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +WHAT FLOCKART FORESAW + + +The following afternoon was glaring and breathless. Gabrielle had taken +Stokes, with May Spencer (a girl friend visiting her mother), and driven +the "sixteen" over to Connachan with a message from her mother--an +invitation to Lady Murie and her party to luncheon and tennis on the +following day. It was three o'clock, the hour when silence is upon a +summer house-party in the country. Beneath the blazing sun Glencardine +lay amid its rose-gardens, its cut beech-hedges, and its bowers of +greenery. The palpitating heat was terrible--the hottest day that +summer. + +At the end of the long, handsome drawing-room, with its pale blue carpet +and silk-covered furniture, Lady Heyburn was lolling lazily in her chair +near the wide, bright steel grate, with her inseparable friend, James +Flockart, standing before her. + +The striped blinds outside the three long, open windows subdued the +sun-glare, yet the very odour of the cut flowers in the room seemed +oppressive, while without could be heard the busy hum of insect life. + +The Baronet's handsome wife looked cool and comfortable in her gown of +white embroidered muslin, her head thrown back upon the silken cushion, +and her eyes raised to those of the man, who was idly smoking a +cigarette, at her side. + +"The thing grows more and more inexplicable," he was saying to her in a +low, strained voice. "All the inquiries I've caused to be made in London +and in Paris have led to a negative result." + +"We shall only know the truth when we get a peep of those papers in +Henry's safe, my dear friend," was the woman's reply. + +"And that's a pretty difficult job. You don't know where the old fellow +keeps the key?" + +"I only wish I did. Gabrielle knows, no doubt." + +"Then you ought to compel her to divulge," he urged. "Once we get hold +of that key for half-an-hour, we could learn a lot." + +"A lot that would be useful to you, eh?" remarked the woman, with a +meaning smile. + +"And to you also," he said. "Couldn't we somehow watch and see where he +hides the safe-key? He never has it upon him, you say." + +"It isn't on his bunch." + +"Then he must have a hiding-place for it, or it may be on his +watch-chain," remarked the man decisively. "Get rid of all the guests as +quickly as you can, Winnie. While they're about there's always a danger +of eavesdroppers and of watchers." + +"I've already announced that I'm going up to Inverness next week, so +within the next day or two our friends will all leave." + +"Good! Then the ground will be cleared for action," he remarked, blowing +a cloud of smoke from his lips. "What's your decision regarding the +girl?" + +"The same as yours." + +"But she hates me, you know," laughed the man in gray flannel. + +"Yes; but she fears you at the same time, and with her you can do more +by fear than by love." + +"True. But she's got a spirit of her own, recollect." + +"That must be broken." + +"And what about Walter?" + +"Oh, as soon as he finds out the truth he'll drop her, never fear. He's +already rather fond of that tall, dark girl of Dundas's. You saw her at +the ball. You recollect her?" + +Flockart grunted. He was assisting this woman at his side to play a +desperate game. This was not, however, the first occasion on which they +had acted in conjunction in matters that were not altogether honourable. +There had never been any question of affection between them. The pair +regarded each other from a purely business standpoint. People might +gossip as much as ever they liked; but the two always congratulated +themselves that they had never committed the supreme folly of falling in +love with each other. The woman had married Sir Henry merely in order to +obtain money and position; and this man Flockart, who for years had been +her most intimate associate, had ever remained behind her, to advise and +to help her. + +Perhaps had the Baronet not been afflicted he would have disapproved of +this constant companionship, for he would, no doubt, have overheard in +society certain tittle-tattle which, though utterly unfounded, would not +have been exactly pleasant. But as he was blind and never went into +society, he remained in blissful ignorance, wrapped up in his mysterious +"business" and his hobbies. + +Gabrielle, on her return from school, had at first accepted Flockart as +her friend. It was he who took her for walks, who taught her to cast a +fly, to shoot rooks, and to play the national winter game of +Scotland--curling. He had in the first few months of her return home +done everything in his power to attract the young girl's friendship, +while at the same time her ladyship showed herself extraordinarily well +disposed towards her. + +Within a year, however, by reason of various remarks made by people in +her presence, and on account of the cold disdain with which Lady Heyburn +treated her afflicted father, vague suspicions were aroused within her, +suspicions which gradually grew to hatred, until she clung to her +father, and, as his eyes and ears, took up a position of open defiance +towards her mother and her adventurous friend. + +The situation each day grew more and more strained. Lady Heyburn was, +even though of humble origin, a woman of unusual intelligence. In +various quarters she had been snubbed and ridiculed, but she gradually +managed in every case to get the better of her enemies. Many a man and +many a woman had had bitter cause to repent their enmity towards her. +They marvelled how their secrets became known to her. + +They did not know the power behind her--the sinister power of that +ingenious and unscrupulous man, James Flockart--the man who made it his +business to know other people's secrets. Though for years he had been +seized with a desire to get at the bottom of Sir Henry's private +affairs, he had never succeeded. The old Baronet was essentially a +recluse; he kept himself so much to himself, and was so careful that no +eyes save those of his daughter should see the mysterious documents +which came to him so regularly by registered post, that all Flockart's +efforts and those of Lady Heyburn had been futile. + +"I had another good look at the safe this morning," the man went on +presently. "It is one of the best makes, and would resist anything, +except, of course, the electric current." + +"To force it would be to put Henry on his guard," Lady Heyburn remarked, +"If we are to know what secrets are there, and use our knowledge for our +own benefit, we must open it with a key and relock it." + +"Well, Winnie, we must do something. We must both have money--that's +quite evident," he said. "That last five hundred you gave me will stave +off ruin for a week or so. But after that we must certainly be well +supplied, or else there may be revelations well--which will be as ugly +for yourself as for me." + +"I know," she exclaimed. "I fully realise the necessity of getting +funds. The other affair, though we worked it so well, proved a miserable +fiasco." + +"And very nearly gave us away into the bargain," he declared. "I tell +you frankly, Winnie, that if we can't pay a level five thousand in three +weeks' time the truth will be out, and you know what that will mean." + +He was watching her handsome face as he spoke, and he noticed how pale +and drawn were her features as he referred to certain ugly truths that +might leak out. + +"Yes," she gasped, "I know, James. We'd both find ourselves under +arrest. Such a _contretemps_ is really too terrible to think of." + +"But, my dear girl, it must be faced," he said, "if we don't get the +money. Can't you work Sir Henry for a bit more, say another thousand. +Make an excuse that you have bills to pay in London--dressmakers, +jewellers, milliners--any good story will surely do. He gives you +anything you ask for." + +She shook her head and sighed. "I fear I've imposed upon his good-nature +far too much already," she answered. "I know I'm extravagant; I'm sorry, +but can't help it. Born in me, I suppose. A few months ago he found out +that I'd been paying Mellish a hundred pounds each time to decorate Park +Street with flowers for my Wednesday evenings, and he created an awful +scene. He's getting horribly stingy of late." + +"Yes; but the flowers were a bit expensive, weren't they?" he remarked. + +"Not at all. Lady Fortrose, the wife of the soap-man, pays two hundred +and fifty pounds for flowers for her house every Thursday in the season; +and mine looked quite as good as hers. I think Mellish is much cheaper +than anybody else. And, just because I went to a cheap man, Henry was +horrible. He said all sorts of weird things about my reckless +extravagance and the suffering poor--as though I had anything to do with +them. The genuine poor are really people like you and me." + +"I know," he said philosophically, lighting another cigarette. "But all +this is beside the point. We want money, and money we must have in order +to avoid exposure. You--" + +"I was a fool to have had anything to do with that other little affair," +she interrupted. + +"It was not only myself who arranged it. Remember, it was you who +suggested it, because it seemed so easy, and because you had an old +score to pay off." + +"The woman was sacrificed, and at the same time an enemy learnt our +secret." + +"I couldn't help it," he protested. "You let your woman's vindictiveness +overstep your natural caution, my dear girl. If you'd taken my advice +there would have been no suspicion." + +Lady Heyburn was silent. She sat regarding the toe of her patent-leather +shoe fixedly, in deep reflection. She was powerless to protest, she was +so entirely in this man's hands. "Well," she asked at last, stirring +uneasily in her chair, "and suppose we are not able to raise the money, +what do you anticipate will be the result?" + +"A rapid reprisal," was his answer. "People like them don't +hesitate--they act." + +"Yes, I see," she remarked in a blank voice. "They have nothing to lose, +so they will bring pressure upon us." + +"Just as we once tried to bring pressure upon them. It's all a matter of +money. We pay the price arranged--a mere matter of business." + +"But how are we to get money?" + +"By getting a glance at what's in that safe," he replied. "Once we get +to know this mysterious secret of Sir Henry's, I and my friends can get +money easily enough. Leave it all to me." + +"But how--" + +"This matter you will please leave entirely to me, Winnie," he repeated +with determination. "We are both in danger--great danger; and that being +so, it is incumbent upon me to act boldly and fearlessly. I mean to get +the key, and see what is within that safe." + +"But the girl?" asked her ladyship. + +"Within one week from to-day the girl will no longer trouble us," he +said with an evil glance. "I do not intend that she shall remain a +barrier against our good fortune any longer. Understand that, and remain +perfectly calm, whatever may happen." + +"But you surely don't intend--you surely will not--" + +"I shall act as I think proper, and without any sentimental advice from +you," he declared with a mock bow, but straightening himself instantly +when at the door was heard a fumbling, and the gray-bearded man in blue +spectacles, his thin white hand groping before him, slowly entered the +room. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +CONCERNS THE CURSE OF THE CARDINAL + + +Gabrielle and Walter were seated together under one of the big oaks at +the edge of the tennis-lawn at Connachan. With May Spencer and Lady +Murie they had been playing; but his mother and the young girl had gone +into the house for tea, leaving the lovers alone. + +"What's the matter with you to-day, darling?" he had asked as soon as +they were out of hearing. "You don't seem yourself, somehow." + +She started quickly, and, pulling herself up, tried to smile, assuring +him that there was really nothing amiss. + +"I do wish you'd tell me what it is that's troubling you so," he said. +"Ever since I returned from abroad you've not been yourself. It's no use +denying it, you know." + +"I haven't felt well, perhaps. I think it must be the weather," she +assured him. + +But he, viewing the facts in the light of what he had noticed at their +almost daily clandestine meetings, knew that she was concealing +something from him. + +Before his departure on that journey to Japan she had always been so +very frank and open. Nowadays, however, she seemed to have entirely +changed. Her love for him was just the same--that he knew; it was her +unusual manner, so full of fear and vague apprehension, which caused him +so many hours of grave reflection. + +With her woman's cleverness, she succeeded in changing the topic of +conversation, and presently they rose to join his mother at the +tea-table in the drawing-room. + +Half-an-hour later, while they were idling in the hall together, she +suddenly exclaimed, "Walter, you're great on Scottish history, so I want +some information from you. I'm studying the legends and traditions of +our place, Glencardine. What do you happen to know about them?" + +"Well," he laughed, "there are dozens of weird tales about the old +castle. I remember reading quite a lot of extraordinary stories in some +book or other about three years ago. I found it in the library here." + +"Oh! do tell me all about it," she urged instantly. "Weird legends +always fascinate me. Of course I know just the outlines of its history. +It's the tales told by the country-folk in which I'm so deeply +interested." + +"You mean the apparition of the Lady in Green, and all that?" + +"Yes; and the Whispers." + +He started quickly at her words, and asked, "What do you know about +them, dear? I hope you haven't heard them?" + +She smiled, with a frantic effort at unconcern, saying, "And what harm, +pray, would they have done me, even if I had?" + +"Well," he said, "they are only heard by those whose days are numbered; +at least, so say the folk about here." + +"Of course, it's only a fable," she laughed. "The people of the Ochils +are so very superstitious." + +"I believe the fatal result of listening to those mysterious Whispers +has been proved in more than one instance," remarked the young man quite +seriously. "For myself, I do not believe in any supernatural agency. I +merely tell you what the people hereabouts believe. Nobody from this +neighbourhood could ever be induced to visit your ruins on a moonlit +night." + +"That's just why I want to know the origin of the unexplained +phenomenon." + +"How can I tell you?" + +"But you know--I mean you've heard the legend, haven't you?" + +"Yes," was his reply. "The story of the Whispers of Glencardine is well +known all through Perthshire. Hasn't your father ever told you?" + +"He refuses." + +"Because, no doubt, he fears that you might perhaps take it into your +head to go there one night and try to listen for them," her lover said. +"Do not court misfortune, dearest. Take my advice, and give the place a +very wide berth. There is, without a doubt, some uncanny agency there." + +The girl laughed outright. "I do declare, Walter, that you believe in +these foolish traditions," she said. + +"Well, I'm a Scot, you see, darling, and a little superstition is +perhaps permissible, especially in connection with such a mystery as the +strange disappearance of Cardinal Setoun." + +"Then, tell me the real story as you know it," she urged. "I'm much +interested. I only heard about the Whispers quite recently." + +"The historical facts, so far as I can recollect reading them in the +book in question," he said, "are to the effect that the Most Reverend +James Cardinal Setoun, Archbishop of St. Andrews, Chancellor of the +Kingdom, was in the middle of the sixteenth century directing all his +energies towards consolidating the Romish power in Scotland, and not +hesitating to resort to any crime which seemed likely to accomplish his +purpose. Many were the foul assassinations and terrible tortures upon +innocent persons performed at his orders. One person who fell into the +hands of this infamous cleric was Margaret, the second daughter of +Charles, Lord Glencardine, a beautiful girl of nineteen. Because she +would not betray her lover, she was so cruelly tortured in the +Cardinal's palace that she expired, after suffering fearful agony, and +her body was sent back to Glencardine with an insulting message to her +father, who at once swore to be avenged. The king had so far resigned +the conduct of the kingdom into the hands of his Eminence that nothing +save armed force could oppose him. Setoun knew that a union between +Henry VIII. and James V. would be followed by the downfall of the papal +power in Scotland, and therefore he laid a skilful plot. Whilst advising +James to resist the dictation of his uncle, he privately accused those +of the Scottish nobles who had joined the Reformers of meditated treason +against His Majesty. This placed the king in a serious dilemma, for he +could not proceed against Henry without the assistance of those very +nobles accused as traitors. The wily Cardinal had hoped that James +would, in self-defence, seek an alliance with France and Spain; but he +was mistaken. You know, of course, how the forces of the kingdom were +assembled and sent against the Duke of Norfolk. The invader was thus +repelled, and the Cardinal then endeavoured to organise a new expedition +under Romish leaders. This also failing, his Eminence endeavoured to +dictate to the country through the Earl of Arran, the Governor of +Scotland. By a clever ruse he pretended friendship with Erskine of Dun, +and endeavoured to use him for his own ends. Curiously enough, over +yonder"--and he pointed to a yellow parchment in a black ebony frame +hanging upon the panelled wall of the hall--"over there is one of the +Cardinal's letters to Erskine, which shows the infamous cleric's smooth, +insinuating style when it suited his purpose. I'll go and get it for you +to read." + +The young man rose, and, taking it down, brought it to her. She saw that +the parchment, about eight inches long by four wide, was covered with +writing in brown ink, half-faded, while attached was a formidable oval +red seal which bore a coat of arms surmounting the Cardinal's hat. + +With difficulty they made out this interesting letter to read as +follows: + +"RYCHT HONOURABLE AND TRAIST COUSING,--I commend me hartlie to you, +nocht doutting bot my lord governour hes written specialye to you at +this tyme to keep the diet with his lordship in Edinburgh the first day +of November nixt to cum, quhilk I dout nocht bot ye will kepe, and I +know perfitlie your guid will and mynd euer inclinit to serue my lord +governour, and how ye are nocht onnely determinit to serue his lordship, +at this tyme be yourself bot als your gret wais and solistatioun maid +with mony your gret freyndis to do the samin, quhilk I assuris you sall +cum bayth to your hier honour and the vele of you and your houss and +freyndis, quhilk ye salbe sure I sall procure and fortyfie euir at my +power, as I have shewin in mair speciale my mynd heirintil to your +cousin of Brechin, Knycht: Praing your effectuously to kepe trist, and +to be heir in Sanct Androwis at me this nixt Wedinsday, that we may +depairt all togydder by Thurisday nixt to cum, towart my lord governour, +and bring your frendis and servandis with you accordantly, and as my +lord governour hais speciale confidence in you at this tyme; and be sure +the plesour I can do you salbe evir reddy at my power as knawis God, +quha preserve you eternall. + +"At Sanct Androwis, the 25th day of October (1544). J. CARDINALL OFF +SANCT ANDROWIS. + +"To the rycht honourable and our rycht traist cousing the lard of Dvn." + +"Most interesting!" declared the young girl, holding the frame in her +hands. + +"It's doubly interesting, because it is believed that Erskine's brother +Henry, finding himself befooled by the crafty Cardinal, united with Lord +Glencardine to kill him and dispose of his body secretly, thus ridding +Scotland of one of her worst enemies," Walter went on. "For the past +five years stories had been continually leaking out of Setoun's inhuman +cruelty, his unscrupulous, fiendish tortures inflicted upon all those +who displeased him, and how certain persons who stood in his way had +died mysteriously or disappeared, no one knew whither. Hence it was +that, at Erskine's suggestion, Wemyss of Strathblane went over to +Glencardine, and with Charles, Lord Glencardine, conspired to invite the +Cardinal there, on pretence of taking counsel against the Protestants, +but instead to take his life. The conspirators were, it is said, joined +by the Earl of Kintyre and by Mary, the sixteen-year-old daughter of +Lord Charles, and sister of the poor girl so brutally done to death by +his Eminence. On several successive nights the best means of getting rid +of Setoun were considered and discussed, and it is declared that the +Whispers now heard sometimes at Glencardine are the secret deliberations +of those sworn to kill the infamous Cardinal. Mary, the daughter of the +house, was allowed to decide in what manner her sister's death should be +avenged, and at her suggestion it was resolved that the inhuman head of +the Roman Church should, before his life was taken, be put to the same +fiendish tortures as those to which her sister had been subjected in his +palace." + +"It is curious that after his crime the Cardinal should dare to visit +Glencardine," Gabrielle remarked. + +"Not exactly. His lordship, pretending that he wished to be appointed +Governor of Scotland in the place of the Earl of Arran, had purposely +made his peace with Setoun, who on his part was only too anxious to +again resume friendly relations with so powerful a noble. Therefore, +early in May, 1546, he went on a private visit, and almost unattended, +to Glencardine, within the walls of which fortress he disappeared for +ever. What exactly occurred will never be known. All that the Commission +who subsequently sat to try the conspirators were able to discover was +that the Cardinal had been taken to the dungeon beneath the north tower, +and there tortured horribly for several days, and afterwards burned at +the stake in the courtyard, the fire being ignited by Lord Glencardine +himself, and the dead Cardinal's ashes afterwards scattered to the +winds." + +"A terrible revenge!" exclaimed the girl with a shudder. "They were +veritable fiends in those days." + +"They were," he laughed, rehanging the frame upon the wall. "Some +historians have, of course, declared that Setoun was murdered at Mains +Castle, and others declare Cortachy to have been the scene of the +assassination; but the truth that it occurred at Glencardine is proved +by a quantity of the family papers which, when your father purchased +Glencardine, came into his possession. You ought to search through +them." + +"I will. I had no idea dad possessed any of the Glencardine papers," she +declared, much interested in that story of the past. "Perhaps from them +I may be able to glean something further regarding the strange Whispers +of Glencardine." + +"Make whatever searches you like, dearest," he said in all earnestness, +"but never attempt to investigate the Whispers themselves." And as they +were alone, he took her little hand in his, and looking into her face +with eyes of love, pressed her to promise him never to disregard his +warning. + +She told him nothing of her own weird experience. He was ignorant of the +fact that she had actually heard the mysterious Whispers, and that, as a +consequence, a great evil already lay upon her. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +FOLLOWS FLOCKART'S FORTUNES + + +One evening, a few days later, Gabrielle, seated beside her father at +his big writing-table, had concluded reading some reports, and had +received those brief, laconic replies which the blind man was in the +habit of giving, when she suddenly asked, "I believe, dad, that you have +a quantity of the Glencardine papers, haven't you? If I remember aright, +when you bought the castle you made possession of these papers a +stipulation." + +"Yes, dear, I did," was his answer. "I thought it a shame that the +papers of such a historic family should be dispersed at Sotheby's, as +they no doubt would have been. So I purchased them." + +"You've never let me see them," she said. "As you know, you've taught me +so much antiquarian knowledge that I'm becoming an enthusiast like +yourself." + +"You can see them, dear, of course," was his reply. "They are in that +big ebony cabinet at the end of the room yonder--about two hundred +charters, letters, and documents, dating from 1314 down to 1695." + +"I'll go through them to-morrow," she said. "I suppose they throw a good +deal of light upon the history of the Grahams and the actions of the +great Lord Glencardine?" + +"Yes; but I fear you'll find them very difficult to read," he remarked. +"Not being able to see them for myself, alas! I had to send them to +London to be deciphered." + +"And you still have the translations?" + +"Unfortunately, no, dear. Professor Petre at Oxford, who is preparing +his great work on Glencardine, begged me to let him see them, and he +still has them." + +"Well," she laughed, "I must therefore content myself with the +originals, eh? Do they throw any further light upon the secret agreement +in 1644 between the great Marquess of Glencardine, whose home was here, +and King Charles?" + +"Really, Gabrielle," laughed the old antiquary, "for a girl, your +recollection of abstruse historical points is wonderful." + +"Not at all. There was a mystery, I remember, and mysteries always +attract me." + +"Well," he replied after a few moments' hesitation, "I fear you will not +find the solution of that point, or of any other really important point, +contained in any of the papers. The most interesting records they +contain are some relating to Alexander Senescallus (Stewart), the fourth +son of Robert II., who was granted in 1379 a Castle of Garth. He was a +reprobate, and known as the Wolf of Badenoch. On his father's accession +in 1371, he was granted the charters of Badenoch, with the Castle of +Lochindorb and of Strathavon; and at a slightly later date he was +granted the lands of Tempar, Lassintulach, Tulachcroske, and Gort +(Garth). As you know, many traditions regarding him still survive; but +one fact contained in yonder papers is always interesting, for it shows +that he was confined in the dungeon of the old keep of Glencardine until +Robert III. released him. There are also a quantity of interesting facts +regarding 'Red Neil,' or Neil Stewart of Fothergill, who was Laird of +Garth, which will some day be of value to future historians of +Scotland." + +"Is there anything concerning the mysterious fate of Cardinal Setoun +within Glencardine?" asked the girl, unable to curb her curiosity. + +"No," he replied in a manner which was almost snappish. "That's a mere +tradition, my dear--simply a tale invented by the country-folk. It seems +to have been imagined in order to associate it with the mysterious +Whispers which some superstitious people claim to have heard. No old +castle is complete nowadays without its ghost, so we have for our share +the Lady of Glencardine and the Whispers," he laughed. + +"But I thought it was a matter of authenticated history that the +Cardinal was actually enticed here, and disappeared!" exclaimed the +girl. "I should have thought that the Glencardine papers would have +referred to it," she added, recollecting what Walter had told her. + +"Well, they don't; so why worry your head, dear, over a mere fable? I +have already gone very carefully into all the facts that are proved, and +have come to the conclusion that the story of the torture of his +Eminence is a fairy-tale, and that the supernatural Whispers have only +been heard in imagination." + +She was silent. She recollected that sound of murmuring voices. It was +certainly not imagination. + +"But you'll let me have the key of the cabinet, won't you, dad?" she +asked, glancing across to where stood a beautiful old Florentine cabinet +of ebony inlaid with ivory, and reaching almost to the ceiling. + +"Certainly, Gabrielle dear," was the reply of the expressionless man. +"It is upstairs in my room. You shall have it to-morrow." + +And then he lapsed again into silence, reflecting whether it were not +best to secure certain parchment records from those drawers before his +daughter investigated them. There was a small roll of yellow parchment, +tied with modern tape, which he was half-inclined to conceal from her +curious gaze. Truth to tell, they constituted a record of the torture +and death of Cardinal Setoun much in the same manner as Walter Murie had +described to her. If she read that strange chronicle she might, he +feared, be impelled to watch and endeavour to hear the fatal Whispers. + +Strange though it was, yet those sounds were a subject which caused him +daily apprehension. Though he never referred to them save to ridicule +every suggestion of their existence, or to attribute the weird noises to +the wind, yet never a day passed but he sat calmly reflecting. That one +matter which his daughter knew above all others caused him the most +serious thought and apprehension--a fear which had become doubly +increased since she had referred to the curious and apparently +inexplicable phenomenon. He, a refined, educated man of brilliant +attainments, scouted the idea of any supernatural agency. To those who +had made mention of the Whispers--among them his friend Murie, the Laird +of Connachan; Lord Strathavon, from whom he had purchased the estate; +and several of the neighbouring landowners--he had always expressed a +hope that one day he might be fortunate enough to hear the whispered +counsel of the Evil One, and so decide for himself its true cause. He +pretended always to treat the affair with humorous incredulity, yet at +heart he was sorely troubled. + +If his young wife's remarkable friendship with the man Flockart often +caused him bitter thoughts, then the mysterious Whispers and the +fatality so strangely connected with them were equally a source of +constant inquietude. + +A few days later Flockart, with clever cunning, seemed to alter his +ingenious tactics completely, for suddenly he had commenced to bestir +himself in Sir Henry's interests. One morning after breakfast, taking +the Baronet by the arm, he led him for a stroll along the drive, down to +the lodge-gates, and back, for the purpose, as he explained, of speaking +with him in confidence. + +At first the blind man was full of curiosity as to the reason of this +unusual action, as those deprived of sight usually are. + +"I know, Sir Henry," Flockart said presently, and not without +hesitation, "that certain ill-disposed people have endeavoured to place +an entirely wrong construction upon your wife's friendship towards me. +For that reason I have decided to leave Glencardine, both for her sake +and for yours." + +"But, my dear fellow," exclaimed the blind man, "why do you suggest such +a thing?" + +"Because your wife's enemies have their mouths full of scandalous lies," +he replied. "I tell you frankly, Sir Henry, that my friendship with her +ladyship is a purely platonic one. We were children together, at home in +Bedford, and ever since our schooldays I have remained her friend." + +"I know that," remarked the old man quietly. "My wife told me that when +you dined with us on several occasions at Park Street. I have never +objected to the friendship existing between you, Flockart; for, though I +have never seen you, I have always believed you to be a man of honour." + +"I feel very much gratified at those words, Sir Henry," he said in a +deep, earnest voice, glancing at the grey, dark-spectacled face of the +fragile man whose arm he was holding. "Indeed, I've always hoped that +you would repose sufficient confidence in me to know that I am not such +a blackguard as to take any advantage of your cruel affliction." + +The blind Baronet sighed. "Ah, my dear Flockart! all men are not +honourable like yourself. There are many ready to take advantage of my +lack of eyesight. I have experienced it, alas! in business as well as in +my private life." + +The dark-faced man was silent. He was playing an ingenious, if +dangerous, game. The Baronet had referred to business--his mysterious +business, the secret of which he was now trying his best to solve. +"Yes," he said at length, "I suppose the standard of honesty in business +is nowadays just about as low as it can possibly be, eh? Well, I've +never been in business myself, so I don't know. In the one or two small +financial deals in which I've had a share, I've usually been 'frozen +out' in the end." + +"Ah, Flockart," sighed the Laird of Glencardine, "you are unfortunately +quite correct. The so-called smart business man is the one who robs his +neighbour without committing the sin of being found out." + +This remark caused the other a twinge of conscience. Did he intend to +convey any hidden meaning? He was full of cunning and cleverness. +"Well," Flockart exclaimed, "I'm truly gratified to think that I retain +your confidence, Sir Henry. If I have in the past been able to be of any +little service to Lady Heyburn, I assure you I am only too delighted. +Yet I think that in the face of gossip which some of your neighbours +here are trying to spread--gossip started, I very much fear, by Miss +Gabrielle--my absence from Glencardine will be of distinct advantage to +all concerned. I do not, my dear Sir Henry, desire for one single moment +to embarrass you, or to place her ladyship in any false position. I----" + +"But, my dear fellow, you've become quite an institution with us!" +exclaimed Sir Henry in dismay. "We should all be lost without you. Why, +as you know, you've done me so many kindnesses that I can never +sufficiently repay you. I don't forget how, through your advice, I've +been able to effect quite a number of economies at Caistor, and how +often you assist my wife in various ways in her social duties." + +"My dear Sir Henry," he laughed, "you know I'm always ready to serve +either of you whenever it lies in my power. Only--well, I feel that I'm +in your wife's company far too much, both here and in Lincolnshire. +People are talking. Therefore, I have decided to leave her, and my +decision is irrevocable." + +"Let them talk. If I do not object, you surely need not." + +"But for your wife's sake?" + +"I know--I know how cruel are people's tongues, Flockart," remarked the +old man. + +"Yes; and the gossip was unfortunately started by Gabrielle. It was +surely very unwise of her." + +"Ah!" sighed the other, "it is the old story. Every girl becomes jealous +of her step-mother. And she's only a child, after all," he added +apologetically. + +"Well, much as I esteem her, and much as I admire her, I feel, Sir +Henry, that she had no right to bring discord into your house. I hope +you will permit me to say this, with all due deference to the fact that +she's your daughter. But I consider her conduct in this matter has been +very unfriendly." + +Again the Baronet was silent, and his companion saw that he was +reflecting deeply. "How do you know that the scandal was started by +her?" he asked presently, in a low, rather strained voice. + +"Young Paterson told me so. It appears that when she was staying with +them over at Tullyallan she told his mother all sorts of absurd stories. +And Mrs. Paterson who, as you know, is a terrible gossip--told the Reads +of Logie and the Redcastles, and in a few days these fictions, with all +sorts of embroidery, were spread half over Scotland. Why, my friend +Lindsay, the member for Berwick, heard some whispers the other day in +the Carlton Club! So, in consequence of that, Sir Henry, I'm resolved, +much against my will and inclination, I assure you, to end my friendship +with your wife." + +"All this pains me more than I can tell you," declared the old man. "The +more so, too, that Gabrielle should have allowed her jealousy to lead +her to make such false charges." + +"Yes. In order not to pain you. I have hesitated to tell you this for +several weeks. But I really thought that you ought at least to know the +truth, and who originated the scandal. And so I have ventured to-day to +speak openly, and to announce my departure," said the wily Flockart. He +was putting to the test the strength of his position in that household. +He had an ulterior motive, one that was ingenious and subtle. + +"But you are not really going?" exclaimed the other. "You told me the +other day something about my factor Macdonald, and your suspicions of +certain irregularities." + +"My dear Sir Henry, it will be far better for us both if I leave. To +remain will only be to lend further colour to these scandalous rumours. +I have decided to leave your house." + +"You believe that Macdonald is dishonest, eh?" inquired the afflicted +man quickly. + +"Yes, I'm certain of it. Remember, Sir Henry, that when one is dealing +with a man who is blind, it is sometimes a great temptation to be +dishonest." + +"I know, I know," sighed the other deeply. They were at a bend in the +drive where the big trees met overhead, forming a leafy tunnel. The +ascent was a trifle steep, and the Baronet had paused for a few seconds, +leaning heavily upon the arm of his friend. + +"Oh, pardon me!" exclaimed Flockart suddenly, releasing his arm. "Your +watch-chain is hanging down. Let me put it right for you." And for a few +seconds he fumbled at the chain, at the same time holding something in +the palm of his left hand. "There, that's right," he said a few minutes +later. "You caught it somewhere, I expect." + +"On one of the knobs of my writing-table perhaps," said the other. +"Thanks. I sometimes inadvertently pull it out of my pocket." + +A faint smile of triumph passed across the dark, handsome face of the +man, who again took his arm, as at the same time he replaced something +in his own jacket-pocket. He had in that instant secured what he wanted. + +"You were saying with much truth, my dear Flockart, that in dealing with +a man who cannot see there is occasionally a temptation towards +dishonesty. Well, this very day I intend to have a long chat with my +wife, but before I do so will you promise me one thing?" + +"And what is that?" asked the man, not without some apprehension. + +"That you will remain here, disregard the gossip that you may have +heard, and continue to assist me in my helplessness in making full and +searching inquiry into Macdonald's alleged defalcations." + +The man reflected for a few seconds, with knit brows. His quick wits +were instantly at work, for he saw with the utmost satisfaction that he +had been entirely successful in disarming all suspicion; therefore his +next move must be the defeat of that man's devoted defender, Gabrielle, +the one person who stood between his own penniless self and fortune. + +"I really cannot at this moment make any promise, Sir Henry," he +remarked at last. "I have decided to go." + +"But defer your decision for the present. There is surely no immediate +hurry for your departure! First let me consult my wife," urged the +Baronet, putting out his hand and groping for that of Flockart, which he +pressed warmly as proof of his continued esteem. "Let me talk to +Winifred. She shall decide whether you go or whether you shall stay." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +SHOWS A GIRL'S BONDAGE + + +Walter Murie had chosen politics as a profession long ago, even when he +was an undergraduate. He had already eaten his dinners in London, and +had been called to the Bar as the first step towards a political career. +He had a relative in the Foreign Office, while his uncle had held an +Under-Secretaryship in the late Government. Therefore he had influence, +and hoped by its aid to secure some safe seat. Already he had studied +both home and foreign affairs very closely, and had on two occasions +written articles in the _Times_ upon that most vexed and difficult +question, the pacification of Macedonia. He was a very fair speaker, +too, and on several occasions he had seconded resolutions and made quite +clever speeches at political gatherings in his own county, Perthshire. +Indeed, politics was his hobby; and, with money at his command and +influence in high quarters, there was no reason why he should not within +the next few years gain a seat in the House. With Sir Henry Heyburn he +often had long and serious chats. The brilliant politician, whose career +had so suddenly and tragically been cut short, gave him much good +advice, pointing out the special questions he should study in order to +become an authority. This is the age of specialising, and in politics it +is just as essential to be a specialist as it is in the medical, legal, +or any other profession. + +In a few days the young man was returning to his dingy chambers in the +Temple, to pore again over those mouldy tomes of law; therefore almost +daily he ran over to Glencardine to chat with the blind Baronet, and to +have quiet walks with the sweet girl who looked so dainty in her fresh +white frocks, and whose warm kisses were so soft and caressing. + +Surely no pair, even in the bygone days of knight and dame, the days of +real romance, were more devoted to each other. With satisfaction he saw +that Gabrielle's apparent indifference had now worn off. It had been but +the mask of a woman's whim, and as such he treated it. + +One afternoon, after tea out on the lawn, they were walking together by +the bypath to the lodge in order to meet Lady Heyburn, who had gone into +the village to visit a bedridden old lady. Hand-in-hand they were +strolling, for on the morrow he was going south, and would probably be +absent for some months. + +The girl had allowed herself to remain in her lover's arms in one long +kiss of perfect ecstasy. Then, with a sigh of regret, she had held his +hand and gone forward again without a word. When Walter had left, the +sun of her young life would have set, for after all it was not exactly +exciting to be the eyes and ears of a man who was blind. And there was +always at her side that man whom she hated, and who, she knew, was her +bitterest foe--James Flockart. + +Of late her father seemed to have taken him strangely into his +confidence. Why, she could not tell. A sudden change of front on the +Baronet's part was unusual; but as she watched with sinking heart she +could not conceal from herself the fact that Flockart now exercised +considerable influence over her father--an influence which in some +matters had already proved to be greater than her own. + +It was of this man Walter spoke. "I have a regret, dearest--nay, more +than a regret, a fear--in leaving you here alone," he exclaimed in a +low, distinct voice, gazing into the blue, fathomless depths of those +eyes so very dear to him. + +"A fear! Why?" she asked in some surprise, returning his look. + +"Because of that man--your mother's friend," he said. "Recently I have +heard some curious tales concerning him. I really wonder why Sir Henry +still retains him as his guest." + +"Why need we speak of him?" she exclaimed quickly, for the subject was +distasteful. + +"Because I wish you to be forewarned," he said in a serious voice. "That +man is no fitting companion for you. His past is too well known to a +certain circle." + +"His past!" she echoed. "What have you discovered concerning him?" + +Her companion did not answer for a few moments. How could he tell her +all that he had heard? His desire was to warn her, yet he could not +relate to her the allegations made by certain persons against Flockart. + +"Gabrielle," he said, "all that I have heard tends to show that his +friendship for you and for your father is false; therefore avoid +him--beware of him." + +"I--I know," she faltered, lowering her eyes. "I've felt that was the +case all along, yet I----" + +"Yet what?" he asked. + +"I mean I want you to promise me one thing, Walter," she said quickly. +"You love me, do you not?" + +"Love you, my own darling! How can you ask such a question? You surely +know that I do!" + +"Then, if you really love me, you will make me a promise." + +"Of what?" + +"Only one thing--one little thing," she said in a low, earnest voice, +looking straight into his eyes. "If--if that man ever makes an +allegation against me, you won't believe him?" + +"An allegation! Why, darling, what allegation could such a man ever make +against you?" + +"He is my enemy," she remarked simply. + +"I know that. But what charge could he bring against you? Why, if even +he dared to utter a single word against you, I--I'd wring the ruffian's +neck!" + +"But if he did, Walter, you wouldn't believe him, would you?" + +"Of course I wouldn't." + +"Not--not if the charge he made against me was a terrible one--a--a +disgraceful one?" she asked in a strained voice after a brief and +painful pause. + +"Why, dearest!" he cried, "what is the matter? You are really not +yourself to-day. You seem to be filled with a graver apprehension even +than I am. What does it mean? Tell me." + +"It means, Walter, that that man is Lady Heyburn's friend; hence he is +my enemy." + +"And what need you fear when you have me as your friend?" + +"I do not fear if you will still remain my friend--always--in face of +any allegation he makes." + +"I love you, darling. Surely that's sufficient guarantee of my +friendship?" + +"Yes," she responded, raising her white, troubled face to his while he +bent and kissed her again on the lips. "I know that I am yours, my own +well-beloved; and, as yours, I will not fear." + +"That's right!" he exclaimed, endeavouring to smile. "Cheer up. I don't +like to see you on this last day down-hearted and apprehensive like +this." + +"I am not so without cause." + +"Then, what is the cause?" he demanded. "Surely you can repose +confidence in me?" + +Again she was silent. Above them the wind stirred the leaves, and +through the high bracken a rabbit scuttled at their feet. They were +alone, and she stood again locked in her lover's fond embrace. + +"You have told me yourself that man Flockart is my enemy," she said in a +low voice. + +"But what action of his can you fear? Surely you should be forearmed +against any evil he may be plotting. Tell me the truth, and I will go +myself to your father and denounce the fellow before his face!" + +"Ah, no!" she cried, full of quick apprehension. "Never think of doing +that, Walter!" + +"Why? Am I not your friend?" + +"Such a course would only bring his wrath down upon my head. He would +retaliate quickly, and I alone would suffer." + +"But, my dear Gabrielle," he exclaimed, "you really speak in enigmas. +Whatever can you fear from a man who is known to be a blackguard--whom I +could now, at this very moment, expose in such a manner that he would +never dare to set foot in Perthshire again?" + +"Such a course would be most injudicious, I assure you. His ruin would +mean--it would mean--my--own!" + +"I don't follow you." + +"Ah, because you do not know my secret--you----" + +"Your secret!" the young man gasped, staring at her, yet still holding +her trembling form in his strong arms. "Why, what do you mean? What +secret?" + +"I--I cannot tell you!" she exclaimed in a hard, mechanical voice, +looking straight before her. + +"But you must," he protested. + +"I--I asked you, Walter, to make me a promise," she said, her voice +broken by emotion--"a promise that, for the sake of the love you bear +for me, you will not believe that man, that you will disregard any +allegation against me." + +"And I promise, on one condition, darling--that you tell me in +confidence what I, as your future husband, have a just right to +know--the nature of this secret of yours." + +"Ah, no!" she cried, unable longer to restrain her tears, and burying +her pale, beautiful face upon his arm. "I--I was foolish to have spoken +of it," she sobbed brokenly: "I ought to have kept it to myself. It +is--it's the one thing that I can never reveal to you--to you of all +men!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +DESCRIBES A FRENCHMAN'S VISIT + + +"Monsieur Goslin, Sir Henry," Hill announced, entering his master's room +one morning a fortnight later, just as the blind man was about to +descend to breakfast. "He's in the library, sir." + +"Goslin!" exclaimed the Baronet, in great surprise. "I'll go to him at +once; and Hill, serve breakfast for two in the library, and tell Miss +Gabrielle that I do not wish to be disturbed this morning." + +"Very well, Sir Henry;" and the man bowed and went down the broad oak +staircase. + +"Goslin here, without any announcement!" exclaimed the Baronet, speaking +to himself. "Something must have happened. I wonder what it can be." He +tugged at his collar to render it more comfortable; and then, with a +groping hand on the broad balustrade, he felt his way down the stairs +and along the corridor to the big library, where a stout, grey-haired +Frenchman came forward to greet him warmly, after carefully closing the +door. + +"Ah, _mon cher ami_!" he began; and, speaking in French, he inquired +eagerly after the Baronet's health. He was rather long-faced, with beard +worn short and pointed, and his dark, deep-set eyes and his countenance +showed a fund of good humour. "This visit is quite unexpected," +exclaimed Sir Henry. "You were not due till the 20th." + +"No; but circumstances have arisen which made my journey imperative, so +I left the Gare du Nord at four yesterday afternoon, was at Charing +Cross at eleven, had half-an-hour to catch the Scotch express at King's +Cross, and here I am." + +"Oh, my dear Goslin, you always move so quickly! You're simply a marvel +of alertness." + +The other smiled, and, with a shrug of the shoulders, said, "I really +don't know why I should have earned a reputation as a rapid traveller, +except, perhaps, by that trip I made last year, from Paris to +Constantinople, when I remained exactly thirty-eight minutes in the +Sultan's capital. But I did my business there, nevertheless, even though +I got through quicker than _messieurs les touristes_ of the most +estimable Agence Cook." + +"You want a wash, eh?" + +"Ah, no, my friend. I washed at the hotel in Perth, where I took my +morning coffee. When I come to Scotland I carry no baggage save my +tooth-brush in my pocket, and a clean collar across my chest, its ends +held by my braces." + +The Baronet laughed heartily. His friend was always most resourceful and +ingenious. He was a mystery to all at Glencardine, and to Lady Heyburn +most of all. His visits were always unexpected, while as to who he +really was, or whence he came, nobody--not even Gabrielle herself--knew. +At times the Frenchman would take his meals alone with Sir Henry in the +library, while at others he would lunch with her ladyship and her +guests. On these latter occasions he proved himself a most amusing +cosmopolitan, and at the same time exhibited an extreme courtliness +towards every one. His manner was quite charming, yet his presence there +was always puzzling, and had given rise to considerable speculation. + +Hill came in, and after helping the Frenchman to take off his heavy +leather-lined travelling-coat, laid a small table for two and prepared +breakfast. + +Then, when he had served it and left, Goslin rose, and, crossing to the +door, pushed the little brass bolt into its socket. Returning to his +chair opposite the blind man (whose food Hill had already cut up for +him), he exclaimed in a very calm, serious voice, speaking in French, "I +want you to hear what I have to say, Sir Henry, without exciting +yourself unduly. Something has occurred--something very strange and +remarkable." + +The other dropped his knife, and sat statuesque and expressionless. "Go +on," he said hoarsely. "Tell me the worst at once." + +"The worst has not yet happened. It is that which I'm dreading." + +"Well, what has happened? Is--is the secret out?" + +"The secret is safe--for the present." + +The blind man drew a long breath. "Well, that's one thing to be thankful +for," he gasped. "I was afraid you were going to tell me that the facts +were exposed." + +"They may yet be exposed," the mysterious visitor exclaimed. "That's +where lies the danger." + +"We have been betrayed, eh? You may as well admit the ugly truth at +once, Goslin!" + +"I do not conceal it, Sir Henry. We have." + +"By whom?" + +"By somebody here--in this house." + +"Here! What do you mean? Somebody in my own house?" + +"Yes. The Greek affair is known. They have been put upon their guard in +Athens." + +"By whom?" cried the Baronet, starting from his chair. + +"By somebody whom we cannot trace--somebody who must have had access to +your papers." + +"No one has had access to my papers. I always take good care of that, +Goslin--very good care of that. The affair has leaked out at your end, +not at mine." + +"At our end we are always circumspect," the Frenchman said calmly. "Rest +assured that nobody but we ourselves are aware of our operations or +intentions. We know only too well that any revelation would assuredly +bring upon us--disaster." + +"But a revelation has actually been made!" exclaimed Sir Henry, bending +forward. "Therefore the worst is to be feared." + +"Exactly. That is what I am endeavouring to convey." + +"The betrayal must have come from your end, I expect; not from here." + +"I regret to assert that it came from here--from this very room." + +"How do you know that?" + +"Because in Athens they have a complete copy of one of the documents +which you showed me on the last occasion I was here, and which we have +never had in our possession." + +The blind man was silent. The allegation admitted of no argument. + +"My daughter Gabrielle is the only person who has seen it, and she +understands nothing of our affairs, as you know quite well." + +"She may have copied it." + +"My daughter would never betray me, Goslin," said Sir Henry in a hard, +distinct voice, rising from the table and slowly walking down the long, +book-lined room. + +"Has no one else been able to open your safe and examine its contents?" +asked the Frenchman, glancing over to the small steel door let into the +wall close to where he was sitting. + +"No one. Though I'm blind, do you consider me a fool? Surely I recognise +only too well how essential is secrecy. Have I not always taken the most +extraordinary precautions?" + +"You have, Sir Henry. I quite admit that. Indeed, the precautions you've +taken would, if known to the world, be regarded--well, as simply +amazing." + +"I hope the world will never know the truth." + +"It will know the truth. They have the copies in Athens. If there is a +traitor--as we have now proved the existence of one--then we can never +in future rest secure. At any moment another exposure may result, with +its attendant disaster." + +The Baronet halted before one of the long windows, the morning sunshine +falling full upon his sad, grey face. He drew a long sigh and said, +"Goslin, do not let us discuss the future. Tell me exactly what is the +present situation." + +"The present situation," the Frenchman said in a dry, matter-of-fact +voice, "is one full of peril for us. You have, over there in your safe, +a certain paper--a confidential report which you received direct from +Vienna. It was brought to you by special messenger because its nature +was not such as should be sent through the post. A trusted official of +the Austrian Ministry of Foreign Affairs brought it here. To whom did he +deliver it?" + +"To Gabrielle. She signed a receipt." + +"And she broke the seals?" + +"No. I was present, and she handed it to me. I broke the seals myself. +She read it over to me." + +"Ah!" ejaculated the Frenchman suspiciously. "It is unfortunate that you +are compelled to entrust our secrets to a woman." + +"My daughter is my best friend; indeed, perhaps my only friend." + +"Then you have enemies?" + +"Who has not?" + +"True. We all of us have enemies," replied the mysterious visitor. "But +in this case, how do you account for that report falling into the hands +of the people in Athens? Who keeps the key of the safe?" + +"I do. It is never out of my possession." + +"At night what do you do with it?" + +"I hide it in a secret place in my room, and I sleep with the door +locked." + +"Then, as far as you are aware, nobody has ever had possession of your +key--not even mademoiselle your daughter?" + +"Not even Gabrielle. I always lock and unlock the safe myself." + +"But she has access to its contents when it is open," the visitor +remarked. "Acting as your secretary, she is, of course, aware of a good +deal of your business." + +"No; you are mistaken. Have we not arranged a code in order to prevent +her from satisfying her woman's natural inquisitiveness?" + +"That's admitted. But the document in question, though somewhat guarded, +is sufficiently plain to any one acquainted with the nature of our +negotiations." + +The blind man crossed to the safe, and with the key upon his chain +opened it, and, after fumbling in one of the long iron drawers revealed +within, took out a big oblong envelope, orange-coloured, and secured +with five black seals, now, however, broken. + +This he handed to his friend, saying, "Read it again, to refresh your +memory. I know myself what it says pretty well by heart." + +Monsieur Goslin drew forth the paper within and read the lines of close, +even writing. It was in German. He stood near the window as he read, +while Sir Henry remained near the open safe. + +Hill tapped at the bolted door, but his master replied that he did not +wish to be disturbed. "Yes," the Frenchman said at last, "the copy they +have in Athens is exact--word for word." + +"They may have obtained it from Vienna." + +"No; it came from here. There are some pencilled comments in your +daughter's handwriting." + +"They were dictated by me." + +"Exactly. And they appear in the copy now in the hands of the people in +Athens! Thus it is doubly proved that it was this actual document which +was copied. But by whom?" + +"Ah!" sighed the helpless man, his face drawn and paler than usual, +"Gabrielle is the only person who has had sight of it." + +"Mademoiselle surely could not have copied it," remarked the Frenchman. +"Has she a lover?" + +"Yes; the son of a neighbour of mine, a very worthy young fellow." + +Goslin grunted dubiously. It was apparent that he suspected her of +trickery. Information such as had been supplied to the Greek Government +would, he knew, be paid for, and at a high price. Had mademoiselle's +lover had a hand in that revelation? + +"I would not suggest for a single moment, Sir Henry, that mademoiselle +your daughter would act in any way against your personal interests; +but--" + +"But what?" demanded the blind man fiercely, turning towards his +visitor. + +"Well, it is peculiar--very peculiar--to say the least." + +Sir Henry was silent. Within himself he was compelled to admit that +certain suspicion attached to Gabrielle. And yet was she not his most +devoted--nay, his only--friend? "Some one has copied the report--that's +evident," he said in a low, hard voice, reflecting deeply. + +"And by so doing has placed us in a position of grave peril, Sir +Henry--imminent peril," remarked the visitor. "I see in this an attempt +to obtain further knowledge of our affairs. We have a secret enemy, who, +it seems, has found a vulnerable point in our armour." + +"Surely my own daughter cannot be my enemy?" cried the blind man in +dismay. + +"You say she has a lover," remarked the Frenchman, speaking slowly and +with deliberation. "May not he be the instigator?" + +"Walter Murie is upright and honourable," replied the blind man. "And +yet--" A long-drawn sigh prevented the conclusion of that sentence. + +"Ah, I know!" exclaimed the mysterious visitor in a tone of sympathy. +"You are uncertain in your conclusions because of your terrible +affliction. Sometimes, alas! my dear friend, you are imposed upon, +because you are blind." + +"Yes," responded the other, bitterly. "That is the truth, Goslin. +Because I cannot see like other men, I have been deceived--foully and +grossly deceived and betrayed! But--but," he cried, "they thought to +ruin me, and I've tricked them, Goslin--yes, tricked them! Have no fear. +For the present our secrets are our own!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +REVEALS THE SPY + + +The Twelfth--the glorious Twelfth--had come and gone. "The rush to the +North" had commenced from London. From Euston, St. Pancras, and King's +Cross the night trains for Scotland had run in triplicate, crowded by +men and gun-cases and kit-bags, while gloomy old Perth station was a +scene of unwonted activity each morning. + +At Glencardine there were little or no grouse; therefore it was not +until later that Sir Henry invited his usual party. + +Gabrielle had been south to visit one of her girlfriends near Durham, +and the week of her absence her afflicted father had spent in dark +loneliness, for Flockart had gone to London, and her ladyship was away +on a fortnight's visit to the Pelhams, down at New Galloway. + +On the last day of August, however, Gabrielle returned, being followed a +few hours later by Lady Heyburn, who had travelled up by way of Stirling +and Crieff Junction, while that same night eight men forming the +shooting-party arrived by the day express from the south. + +The gathering was a merry one. The guests were the same who came up +there every year, some of them friends of Sir Henry in the days of his +brilliant career, others friends of his wife. The shooting at +Glencardine was always excellent; and Stewart, wise and serious, had +prophesied first-class sport. + +Walter Murie was in London. While Gabrielle had been at Durham he had +travelled up there, spent the night at the "Three Tuns," and met her +next morning in that pretty wooded walk they call "the Banks." Devoted +to her as he was, he could not bear any long separation; while she, on +her part, was gratified by this attention. Not without some difficulty +did she succeed in getting away from her friends to meet him, for a +provincial town is not like London, and any stranger is always in the +public eye. But they spent a delightful couple of hours together, +strolling along the footpath through the meadows in the direction of +Finchale Priory. There were no eavesdroppers; and he, with his arm +linked in hers, repeated the story of his all-conquering love. + +She listened in silence, then raising her fine clear eyes to his, said, +"I know, Walter--I know that you love me. And I love you also." + +"Ah," he sighed, "if you would only be frank with me, dearest--if you +would only be as frank with me as I am with you!" + +Sadly she shook her head, but made no reply. He saw that a shadow had +clouded her brow, that she still clung to her strange secret; and at +length, when they retraced their steps back to the city, he reluctantly +took leave of her, and half-an-hour later was speeding south again +towards York and King's Cross. + +The opening day of the partridge season proved bright and pleasant. The +men were out early; and the ladies, a gay party, including Gabrielle, +joined them at luncheon spread on a mossy bank about three miles from +the castle. Several of the male guests were particularly attentive to +the dainty, sweet-faced girl whose charming manner and fresh beauty +attracted them. But Gabrielle's heart was with Walter always. She loved +him. Yes, she told herself so a dozen times each day. And yet was not +the barrier between them insurmountable? Ah, if he only knew! If he only +knew! + +The blind man was left alone nearly the whole of that day. His daughter +had wanted to remain with him, but he would not hear of it. "My dear +child," he had said, "you must go out and lunch. You really must assist +your mother in entertaining the people." + +"But, dear dad, I much prefer to remain with you and help you," she +protested. "Yesterday the Professor sent you five more bronze matrices +of ecclesiastical seals. We haven't yet examined them." + +"We'll do so to-night, dear," he said. "You go out to-day. I'll amuse +myself all right. Perhaps I'll go for a little walk." + +Therefore the girl had, against her inclination, joined the +luncheon-party, where foremost of all to have her little attentions was +a rather foppish young stockbroker named Girdlestone, who had been up +there shooting the previous year, and had on that occasion flirted with +her furiously. + +During her absence her father tried to resume his knitting--an +occupation which he had long ago been compelled to resort to in order to +employ his time; but he soon put it down with a sigh, rose, and taking +his soft brown felt-hat and stout stick, tapped his way along through +the great hall and out into the park. + +He felt the warmth upon his cheek as he passed slowly along down the +broad drive. "Ah," he murmured to himself, "if only I could once again +see God's sunlight! If I could only see the greenery of nature and the +face of my darling child!" and he sighed brokenly, and went on, his chin +sunk upon his breast, a despairing, hopeless man. Surely no figure more +pathetic than his could be found in the whole of Scotland. Upon him had +been showered honour, great wealth, all indeed that makes life worth +living, and yet, deprived of sight, he existed in that world of +darkness, deceived and plotted against by all about him. His grey +countenance was hard and thoughtful as he passed slowly along tapping +the ground before him, for he was thinking--ever thinking--of the +declaration of his French visitor. He had been betrayed. But by whom? + +His thoughts were wandering back to those days when he could see--those +well-remembered days when he had held the House in silence by his +brilliant oratory, and when the papers next day had leading articles +concerning his speeches. He recollected his time-mellowed old club in +St. James's Street--Boodle's--of which he had been so fond. Then came +his affliction. The thought of it all struck him suddenly; and, +clenching his hands, he murmured some inarticulate words through his +teeth. They sounded strangely like a threat. Next instant, however, he +laughed bitterly to himself the dry, harsh laugh of a man into whose +very soul the iron had entered. + +In the distance he could hear the shots of his guests, those men who +accepted his hospitality, and who among themselves agreed that he was "a +terrible bore, poor old fellow!" They came up there--with perhaps two +exceptions--to eat his dinners, drink his choice wines, and shoot his +birds, but begrudged him more than ten minutes or so of their company +each day. In the billiard-room of an evening, as he sat upon one of the +long lounges, they would perhaps deign to chat with him; but, alas! he +knew that he was only as a wet blanket to his wife's guests, hence he +kept himself so much to the library--his own domain. + +That night he spent half-an-hour in the billiard-room in order to hear +what sport they had had, but very soon escaped, and with Gabrielle +returned again to the library to fulfil his promise and examine the +seal-matrices which the Professor had sent. + +To where they sat came bursts of boisterous laughter and of the +waltz-music of the pianola in the hall, for in the shooting season the +echoes of the fine mansion were awakened by the merriment of as gay a +crowd as any who assembled in the Highlands. + +Sir Henry heard it. The sounds jarred upon his nerves. Mirth such as +theirs was debarred him for ever, and he had now become gloomy and +misanthropic. He sat fingering those big oval matrices of bronze, +listening to Gabrielle's voice deciphering the inscriptions, and +explaining what was meant and what was possibly their history. One which +Sir Henry declared to be the gem of them all bore the _manus Dei_ for +device, and was the seal of Archbishop Richard (1174-84). Several +documents bearing impressions of this seal were, he said, preserved at +Canterbury and in the British Museum, but here the actual seal itself +had come to light. + +With all the enthusiasm of an expert he lingered over the matrice, +feeling it carefully with the tips of his fingers, and tracing the +device with the nail of his forefinger. "Splendid!" he declared. "The +lettering is a most excellent specimen of early Lombardic." And then he +gave the girl the titles of several works, which she got down from the +shelves, and from which she read extracts after some careful search. + +The sulphur-casts sent with the matrices she placed carefully with her +father's collection, and during the remainder of the evening they were +occupied in replying to several letters regarding estate matters. + +At eleven o'clock she kissed her father good-night and passed out to the +hall, where the pianola was still going, and where the merriment was +still in full swing. For a quarter of an hour she was compelled to +remain with the insipid young ass Bertie Girdlestone, a man who +patronised musical comedy nightly, and afterwards supped regularly at +the "Savoy"; then she escaped at last to her room. + +Exchanging her pretty gown of turquoise chiffon for an easy wrap, she +took up a novel, and, switching on her green-shaded reading-lamp, sat +down to enjoy a quiet hour before retiring. Quickly she became engrossed +in the story, and though the stable-chimes sounded each half-hour she +remained undisturbed by them. + +It was half-past two before she had reached the happy _dénouement_ of +the book, and, closing it, she rose to take off her trinkets. Having +divested herself of bracelets, rings, and necklet, she placed her hands +to her ears. There was only one ear-ring; the other was missing! They +were sapphires, a present from Walter on her last birthday. He had sent +them to her from Yokohama, and she greatly prized them. Therefore, at +risk of being seen in her dressing-gown by any of the male guests who +might still be astir--for she knew they always played billiards until +very late--she took off her little blue satin slippers and stole out +along the corridor and down the broad staircase. + +The place was in darkness; but she turned on the light, and again when +she reached the hall. + +She must have dropped her ear-ring in the library; of that she felt +sure. Servants were so careless that, if she left it, it might easily be +swept up in the morning and lost for ever. That thought had caused her +to search for it at once. + +As she approached the library door she thought she heard the sound as of +some one within. On her opening the door, however, all was in darkness. +She laughed at her apprehension. + +In an instant she touched the switch, and the place became flooded by a +soft, mellow light from lamps cunningly concealed behind the bookcases +against the wall. At the same moment, however, she detected a movement +behind one of the bookcases against which she stood. With sudden +resolution and fearlessness, she stepped forward to ascertain its cause. +Her eyes at that instant fell upon a sight which caused her to start and +stand dumb with amazement. Straight before her the door of her father's +safe stood open. Beside it, startled at the sudden interruption, stood a +man in evening-dress, with a small electric lamp in his clenched hand. A +pair of dark, evil eyes met hers in defiance--the eyes of James +Flockart. + +"You!" she gasped. + +"Yes," he laughed dryly. "Don't be afraid. It's only I. But, by Jove! +how very charming you look in that gown! I'd love to get a snapshot of +you just as you stand now." + +"What are you doing there, examining my father's papers?" she demanded +quickly, her small hands clenched. + +"My dear girl," he replied with affected unconcern, "that's my own +business. You really ought to have been in bed long ago. It isn't +discreet, you know, to be down here with me at this hour!" + +"I demand to know what you are doing here!" she cried firmly. + +"And, my dear little girl, I refuse to tell you," was his decisive +answer. + +"Very well, then I shall alarm the house and explain to my father what I +have discovered." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +SHOWS GABRIELLE DEFIANT + + +Gabrielle crossed quickly to one of the long windows, which she unbolted +and flung open, expecting to hear the shrill whir of the burglar-alarm, +which, every night, Hill switched on before retiring. + +"My dear little girl!" exclaimed the man, smiling as he strolled +leisurely across to her with a cool, perfect unconcern which showed how +completely he was master, "why create such a beastly draught? Nothing +will happen, for I've already seen to those wires." + +"You're a thief!" she cried, drawing herself up angrily. "I shall go +straight to my father and tell him at once." + +"You are at perfect liberty to act exactly as you choose," was +Flockart's answer, as he bowed before her with irritating mock +politeness. "But before you go, pray allow me to finish these most +interesting documents, some of which, I believe, are in your very neat +handwriting." + +"My father's business is his own alone, and you have no right whatever +to pry into it. I thought you were posing as his friend!" she cried in +bitter protest, as she stood with both her hands clenched. + +"I am his friend," he declared. "Some day, Gabrielle, you will know the +truth of how near he is to disaster, and how I am risking much in an +endeavour to save him." + +"I don't believe you!" she exclaimed in undisguised disgust. "In your +heart there is not one single spark of sympathy with him in his +affliction or with me in my ghastly position!" + +"Your position is only your own seeking, my dear child," was his cold +response. "I gave you full warning long ago. You can't deny that." + +"You conspired with Lady Heyburn against me!" she cried. "I have +discovered more about it than you think; and I now openly defy you, Mr. +Flockart. Please understand that." + +"Good!" he replied, still unruffled. "I quite understand. You will +pardon my resuming, won't you?" And walking back to the open safe, he +drew forth a small bundle of papers from a drawer. Then he threw himself +into a leather arm-chair, and proceeded to untie the tape and examine +the documents one by one, as though in eager search of something. + +"Though Lady Heyburn may be your friend, I am quite sure even she would +never for a moment countenance such a dastardly action as this!" cried +the girl, crimsoning in anger. "You come here, accept my father's +hospitality, and make pretence of being his friend and adviser; yet you +are conspiring against him, as you have done against myself!" + +"So far as you yourself are concerned, my dear Gabrielle," he laughed, +without deigning to look up from the papers he was scanning, "I offered +you my friendship, but you refused it." + +"Friendship!" she cried, in sarcasm. "Your friendship, Mr. Flockart! +What, pray, is it worth? You surely know what people are saying--the +construction they are placing upon your friendship for Lady Heyburn?" + +"The misconstruction, you mean," he exclaimed airily, correcting her. +"Well, to me it matters not a single jot. The world is always +ill-disposed and ill-natured. A woman can surely have a male friend +without being subject to hostile and venomous criticism?" + +"When the male friend is an honest man," said the girl meaningly. + +He shrugged his shoulders and continued reading, as though utterly +disregarding her presence. + +What should she do? How should she act? She knew quite well that from +those papers he could gather no knowledge of her father's affairs, +unless he held some secret knowledge of the true meaning of those +cryptic terms and allusions. To her they were all as Hebrew. + +Only that very day Monsieur Goslin had again made one of those +unexpected visits, remaining from eleven in the morning until three; +afterwards taking his leave, and driving back in the car to Auchterarder +Station. She had not seen him; but he had brought from Paris for her a +big box of chocolates tied with violet ribbons, as had been his habit +for quite a couple of years past. She was a particular favourite with +the polite, middle-aged Frenchman. + +Her father's demeanour was always more thoughtful and serious after the +stranger's visits. Business matters put before him by his visitor +always, it seemed, required much deep thought and ample consideration. + +Some papers brought to her father by Goslin she had placed in the safe +earlier that evening, and these, she recognised, were now in Flockart's +hands. She had not read them herself, and had no idea of their contents. +They were, to her, never interesting. + +"Mr. Flockart," she exclaimed very firmly at last, "I ask you to kindly +replace those papers in my father's safe, relock it, and hand me the +key." + +"That I certainly refuse to do," was the man's defiant reply, bowing as +he spoke. + +"You would prefer, then, that I should go up to my father and explain +all I have seen?" + +"I repeat what I have already said. You are perfectly at liberty to tell +whom you like. It makes no difference whatever to me. And, well, I don't +want to be disturbed just now." Rising, he walked across to the +writing-table, and taking a piece of note-paper bearing the Heyburn +crest, rapidly pencilled some memoranda upon it. He was, it seemed, +taking a copy of one of the documents. + +Suddenly she sprang towards him, crying, "Give me that paper! Give it to +me at once, I say! It is my father's." + +He straightened himself from the table, pulled down his white dress-vest +with its amethyst buttons, and, looking straight into her face, ordered +her to leave the room. + +"I shall not go," she answered boldly. "I have discovered a thief in my +father's house; therefore my duty is to remain here." + +"No. Surely your duty is to go upstairs and tell him;" and he bent +again, resuming his rapid memoranda. "Well," he asked defiantly, a few +moments later, seeing that she had not moved, "aren't you going?" + +"I shall not leave you here alone." + +"Don't. I might run away with some of the ornaments." + +"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the girl bitterly, "you taunt me because you are +well aware of my helplessness--of what occurred on that +never-to-be-forgotten afternoon--of how completely you have me in your +power! I see it all. You defy me, well knowing that you could, in a +moment, bring upon me a vengeance terrible and complete. It is all +horrible!" she cried, covering her face with her hands. "I know that I +am in your power. And you have no pity, no remorse." + +"I gave you full warning," he declared, placing the papers upon the +table and looking at her. "I gave you your choice. You cannot blame me. +You had ample time and opportunity." + +"But I still have one man who loves me--a man who will yet stand my +friend and defend me, even against you!" + +"Walter Murie!" he laughed, with a quick gesture of disregard. "You +believe him to be your friend? Recollect, my dear Gabrielle, that men +are deceivers ever." + +"So it seems in your case," she exclaimed with poignant bitterness. "You +have brought scandalous comment upon my father's name, and yet you are +utterly unconcerned." + +"Because, as I have already told you, your father is my friend." + +"And it is his money which you spend so freely," she said, in a low, +hard voice of reproach. "It comes from him." + +"His money!" he exclaimed quickly. "What do you mean? What do you +imply?" + +"Simply that among my father's accounts a short time back I found two +cheques drawn by Lady Heyburn in your favour." + +"And you told your father of them, of course!" he exclaimed with +sarcasm. "A remarkable discovery, eh?" + +"I told him nothing," was her bold reply. "Not because I wished to +shield you, but because I did not wish to pain him unduly. He has +worries sufficient, in all conscience." + +"Your devotion is really most charming," the man declared calmly, +leaning against the table and examining her critically from head to +foot. "Sir Henry believes in you. You are his dutiful daughter--pure, +good, and all that!" he sneered. "I wonder what he would say if +he--well, if he knew just a little of the truth, of what happened that +day at Chantilly?" + +"The truth! Ah, and you would tell him--you!" she gasped in a broken +voice, her sweet, innocent face blanched to the lips in an instant. "You +would drag my good name into the mire, and blast my life for ever with +just as little compunction as you would shoot a rabbit. I know--I know +you only too well, Mr. Flockart! I stand in your way; I am in your way +as well as in Lady Heyburn's. You are only awaiting an opportunity to +wreck my life and crush me! Once I am away from here, my poor father +will be helpless in your hands!" + +"Dear me," he sneered, "how very tragic you are becoming! That +dressing-gown really makes you appear quite like a heroine of provincial +melodrama. I ought now to have a revolver and threaten you, and then +this scene would be complete for the stage--wouldn't it? But for +goodness' sake don't remain here in the cold any longer, my dear little +girl. Run off to bed, and forget that to-night you've been walking in +your sleep." + +"Not until I see that safe relocked and you give me the false key of +yours. If you will not, then you shall this very night have an +opportunity of telling the truth to my father. I am prepared to bear my +shame and all its consequences----" + +The words froze upon her pale lips. On the lawn outside the half-open +glass door there was at that moment a light movement--the tapping of a +walking-stick! + +"Hush!" cried Flockart. "Remember what I can tell him--if I choose!" + +In an instant she saw the fragile figure of her father, in soft felt-hat +and black coat, creeping almost noiselessly past the window. He had been +out for one of his nocturnal walks, for he sometimes went out alone when +suffering from insomnia. He had just returned. + +The blind man went forward only a few paces farther; but, finding that +he had proceeded too far, he returned and discovered the open door. Near +it stood the pair, not daring now to move lest the blind man's quick +ears should detect their footsteps. + +"Gabrielle! Gabrielle, my dear!" exclaimed the Baronet. + +But though her heart beat quickly, the girl did not reply. She knew, +however, that the old man could almost read her innermost thoughts. The +ominous words of Flockart rang in her ears. Yes, he could tell a +terrible and awful truth which must be concealed at all hazards. + +"I felt sure I heard Gabrielle's voice. How curious!" murmured the old +man, as his feet fell noiselessly upon the thick Turkey carpet. +"Gabrielle, dear!" he called. But his daughter stood there breathless +and silent, not daring to move a muscle. Plain it was that while passing +across the lawn outside he heard her voice. He had overheard her +declaration that she was prepared to bear the consequences of her +disgrace. + +Across the room the blind man groped, his hand held before him, as was +his habit. "Strange! Remarkably strange!" he remarked to himself quite +aloud. "I'm never mistaken in Gabrielle's voice. Gabrielle, dear, where +are you? Why don't you speak? It's too late to-night to play practical +jokes." + +Flockart knew that he had left the safe-door open, yet he dared not move +across the room to close it. The sightless man would detect the +slightest movement in that dead silence of the night. With great care he +left the girl's side, and a single stride brought him to the large +writing-table, where he secured the document, together with the +pencilled memoranda of its purport, both of which he slipped into his +pocket unobserved. + +Gabrielle dared not breathe. Her discovery there meant her ruin. + +The man who held her in his toils cast her an evil, threatening glance, +raising his clenched fist in menace, as though daring her to make the +slightest movement. In his dark eyes showed a sinister expression, and +his nether lip was hard. She was, alas! utterly and completely in his +power. + +The safe was some distance away, and in order to reach and close it he +would be compelled to pass the man in blue spectacles now standing, +puzzled and surprised, in the centre of the great book-lined apartment. +Both of them could escape by the open window, but to do so would be to +court discovery should the Baronet find his safe standing open. In that +case the alarm would be raised, and they would both be found outside the +house, instead of within. + +Slowly the old man drew his thin hand across his furrowed brow, and +then, as a sudden recollection dawned upon him, he cried, "Ah, the +window! Why, that's strange! When I went out I closed it! But it was +open--open--as I came in! Some one--some one has entered here in my +absence!" + +With both his thin, wasted hands outstretched, he walked quickly to his +safe, cleverly avoiding the furniture in his course, and next second +discovered that the iron door stood wide open. + +"Thieves!" he gasped aloud hoarsely as the truth dawned upon him. "My +papers! Gabrielle's voice! What can all this mean?" And next moment he +opened the door, crying, "Help!" and endeavouring to alarm the +household. + +In an instant Flockart dashed forward towards the safe, and, without +being observed by Gabrielle, had slipped the key into his own pocket. + +"Gabrielle," cried the blind man, "you are here in the room. I know you +are. You cannot deceive me. I smell that new scent, which your aunt +Annie sent you, upon your handkerchief. Why don't you speak to me?" + +"Yes, dad," she answered at last, in a low, strained voice, "I--I am +here." + +"Then what is meant by my safe being open?" he asked sternly, as all +that Goslin had told him a little while before flashed across his +memory. "Why have you obtained a key to it?" + +"I have no key," was her quick answer. + +"Come here," he said. "Let me take your hand." + +With great reluctance, her eyes fixed upon Flockart's face, she did as +she was bid, and as her father took her soft hand in his, he said in a +stern, harsh tone, full of suspicion and quite unusual to him, "You are +trembling, Gabrielle--trembling, because--because of my unexpected +appearance, eh?" + +The fair girl with the sweet face and dainty figure was silent. What +could she reply? + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +TELLS OF FLOCKART'S TRIUMPH + + +"What are you doing here at this hour?" Gabrielle's father demanded +slowly, releasing her hand. "Why are you prying into my affairs?" He had +not detected Flockart's presence, and believed himself alone with his +daughter. + +The man's glance again met Gabrielle's, and she saw in his eyes a +desperate look. To tell the truth would, she knew, alas! cause the +exposure of her secret and her disgrace. On both sides had she suddenly +become hemmed in by a deadly peril. + +"Dad," she cried suddenly, "do I not know all about your affairs +already? Do I not act as your secretary? With what motive should I open +your safe?" + +Without response, the blind man moved back to the open door, and, +placing his hand within, fingered one of the long iron drawers. It was +unlocked, and he drew it forth. Some papers were within--blue, +legal-looking papers which his daughter had never seen. "Yes," he +exclaimed aloud, "just as I thought. This drawer has been opened, and my +private affairs pried into. Tell me, Gabrielle, where is young Murie +just at present?" + +"In Paris, I believe. He left London unexpectedly three days ago." + +"Paris!" echoed the old man. "Ah," he added, "Goslin was right--quite +right. And so you, my daughter, in whom I placed all my trust--my--my +only friend--have betrayed me!" he added brokenly. + +"I have not betrayed you, dear father," was her quick protest. "To whom +do you allege I have exposed your affairs?" + +"To your lover, Walter." + +To Flockart, whose wits were already at work upon some scheme to +extricate himself, there came at that instant a sudden suggestion. He +spoke, causing the old man to start suddenly and turn in the direction +of the speaker. + +As the words left his lips he raised a threatening finger towards +Gabrielle, a sign of silence to her of which the old man was +unfortunately in ignorance. + +"I think, Sir Henry, that I ought to speak--to tell you the truth, +painful though it may be. Five minutes ago I came down here in order to +get a telegraph-form, as I wanted to send a wire at the earliest +possible moment to-morrow, when, to my surprise, I saw a light beneath +the door. I----" + +"Oh, no, no!" gasped the girl, in horrified protest. "It's a lie!" + +"I crept in quietly, and was very surprised to find Gabrielle with the +safe open, and alone. I had expected that she was sitting up late, +working with you. But she seemed to be examining and reading some papers +she took from a drawer. Forgive me for telling you this, but the truth +must now be made plain. I startled her by my sudden presence; and, +pointing out the dishonour of copying her father's papers, no matter for +what purpose, I compelled her to return the documents to their place. I +fold her frankly that it was my duty, as your friend, to inform you of +the incident; but she implored me, for the sake of her lover, to remain +silent." + +"Mr. Flockart!" cried the girl, "how dare you say such a thing when you +know it to be an untruth; when----" + +"Enough!" exclaimed her father bitterly. "I'm ashamed of you, Gabrielle. +I----" + +"I would beg of you, Sir Henry, not further to distress yourself," +Flockart interrupted. "Love, as you know, often prompts both men and +women to commit acts of supreme folly." + +"Folly!" echoed the blind man. "This is more than folly! Gabrielle and +her lover have conspired to bring about my ruin. I have had suspicions +for several weeks; now, alas! they are confirmed. Walter Murie is in +Paris at this moment in order to make money out of the secret knowledge +which Gabrielle obtains for him. My own daughter is responsible for my +betrayal!" he added, in a voice broken by emotion. + +"No, no, Sir Henry!" urged Flockart. "Surely the outlook is not so black +as you foresee. Gabrielle has acted injudiciously; but surely she is +still devoted to you and your interests." + +"Yes," cried the girl in desperation, "you know I am, dad. You know that +I----" + +"It is useless, Flockart, for you to endeavour to seek forgiveness for +Gabrielle," declared her father in a firm, harsh voice, "Quite useless. +She has even endeavoured to deny the statement you have made--tried to +deny it when I actually heard with my own ears her defiant declaration +that she was prepared to bear her shame and all its consequences! Let +her do so, I say. She shall leave Glencardine to-morrow, and have no +further opportunity to conspire against me." + +"Oh, father, what are you saying?" she cried in despair, bursting into +tears. "I have not conspired." + +"I am saying the truth," went on the blind man. "You and your lover have +formed another clever plot, eh? Because I have not sight to watch you, +you will copy my business reports and send them to Walter Murie, who +hopes to place them in a certain channel where he can receive payment. +This is not the first time my business has leaked out from this room. +Only a short time ago certain confidential documents were offered to the +Greek Government, but fortunately they were false ones prepared on +purpose to trick any one who had designs upon my business secrets." + +"I swear I am in ignorance of it all." + +"Well, I have now told you plainly," the old man said. "I loved you, +Gabrielle, and until this moment foolishly believed that you were +devoted to me and to my interests. I trusted you implicitly, but you +have betrayed me into the hands of my enemies--betrayed me," he wailed, +"in such a manner that only ruin may face me. I tell you the hard and +bitter truth. I am blind, and ever since your return from school you +have acted as my secretary, and I have looked at the world only through +your eyes. Ah," he sighed, "but I ought to have known! I should never +have trusted a woman, even though she be my own daughter." + +The girl stood with her blanched face covered by her hands. To protest, +to declare that Flockart's story was a lie, was, she saw, all to no +purpose. Her father had overheard her bold defiance and had, alas! most +unfortunately taken it as an admission of her guilt. + +Flockart stood motionless but watchful; yet by the few words he uttered +he succeeded in impressing the blind man with the genuineness of his +friendship both for father and for daughter. He urged forgiveness, but +Sir Henry disregarded all his appeals. + +"No," he declared. "It is fortunate indeed, Flockart, that you made this +discovery, and thus placed me upon my guard." The poor deluded man +little dreamt that on the occasion when Flockart had taken him down the +drive to announce his departure from Glencardine on account of the +gossip, and had drawn Sir Henry's attention to his hanging watch-chain, +he had succeeded in cleverly obtaining two impressions of the safe-key +attached. In his excitement, it had never occurred to him to ask his +daughter by what means she had been able to open that steel door. + +"Dad," she faltered, advancing towards him and placing her soft, tender +hand upon his shoulder, "won't you listen to reason? I assure you I am +quite innocent of any attempt or intention to betray you. I know you +have many enemies;" and she glanced quickly in Flockart's direction. +"Have we not often discussed them? Have I not kept eyes and ears open, +and told you of all I have seen and learnt? Have----" + +"You have seen and learnt what is to my detriment," he answered. "All +argument is useless. A fortnight or so ago, by your aid, my enemies +secured a copy of a certain document which has never left yonder safe. +To-night Mr. Flockart has discovered you again tampering with my safe, +and with my own ears I heard you utter defiance. You are more devoted to +your lover than to me, and you are supplying him with copies of my +papers." + +"That is untrue, dad," protested the girl reproachfully. + +But her father shook her hand roughly from his shoulder, saying, "I have +already told you my decision, which is irrevocable. To-morrow you shall +leave Glencardine and go to your aunt Emily at Woodnewton. You won't +have much opportunity for mischief in that dull little Northampton +village. I won't allow you to remain under my roof any longer; you are +too ungrateful and deceitful, knowing as you do the misery of my +affliction." + +"But, father----" + +"Go to your room," he ordered sternly. "Tomorrow I will speak with your +mother, and we shall then decide what shall be done. Only, understand +one thing: in the future you are not my dear daughter that you have been +in the past. I--I have no daughter," he added in a voice harsh yet +broken by emotion, "for you have now proved yourself an enemy worse even +than those who for so many years have taken advantage of my +helplessness." + +"Ah, dad, dad, you are cruel!" she cried, bursting again into a torrent +of tears. "You are too cruel! I have done nothing!" + +"Do you call placing me in peril nothing?" he retorted bitterly. "Go to +your room at once. Remain with me, Flockart. I want to speak to you." + +The girl saw herself convicted by those unfortunate words she had +used--words meant in defiance of her arch-enemy Flockart, but which had +placed her in ignominy and disgrace. Ah, if she could only stand firm +and speak the ghastly truth! But, alas! she dared not. Flockart, the man +who held her in his power, the man whom she knew to be her father's +bitterest opponent, a cheat and a fraud, stood there triumphant, with a +smile upon his lips; while she, pure, honest, and devoted to that +afflicted man, was denounced and outcast. She raised her voice in one +last word of faint protest. + +But her father, angered and grieved, turned fiercely upon her and +ordered her from his presence. "Go," he said, "and do not come near me +again until your boxes are packed and you are ready to leave +Glencardine." + +"You speak as though I were a servant whom you've discharged," she said +bitterly. + +"I am speaking to my enemy, not to my daughter," was his hard response. + +She raised her eyes to Flockart, and saw upon his dark face a hard, +sphinx-like look. What hope of salvation could she ever expect from that +man--the man who long ago had sought to estrange her from her father so +that he might work his own ends? It was upon her tongue to turn upon him +and relate the whole infamous truth. Yet so friendly had the two men +become of late that she feared, even if she did so, that her father +would only see in the revelation an attempt at reprisal. Besides, what +if Flockart spoke? What if he told the awful truth? Her own dear father, +whom she loved so well, even though he had misjudged her, would be +dragged into the mire. No, she was the victim of that man, who was a +past-master of the art of subterfuge; the man who, for years, had lived +by his wits and preyed upon society. + +"Leave us, and go to your room," again commanded her father. + +She looked sadly at the white, bespectacled countenance which she loved +so well. Her soft hand once more sought his; but he cast it from him, +saying, "Enough of your caresses! You are no longer my daughter! Leave +us!" And then, seeing all protest in vain, she sighed, turned very +slowly, and with a last, lingering look upon the helpless man to whom +she had been so devoted, and who now so grossly misjudged her, she +tottered out, closing the door behind her. + +"Has she gone?" asked Sir Henry a moment later. + +Flockart responded in the affirmative, laying his hand upon the shoulder +of his agitated host, and urging him to remain calm. + +"That's all very well, my dear Flockart," he cried; "but you don't know +what she has done. She exposed a week or so ago a most confidential +arrangement with the Greek Government, a revelation which might have +involved me in the loss of over a hundred thousand." + +"Then it's fortunate, perhaps, that I discovered her to-night," replied +his guest. "All this must be very painful to you, Sir Henry." + +"Very. I shall not give her another opportunity to betray me, Flockart, +depend upon that," the elder man said. "My wife warned me against +Gabrielle long ago. I now see that I was a fool for not taking her +advice." + +"Certainly it's a curious fact that Walter Murie is in Paris," remarked +the other. "Was the revelation of your financial dealings made in Paris, +do you know?" + +"Yes, it was," snapped the blind man. "I believed Walter to be quite a +good young fellow." + +"Ah, I knew different, Sir Henry. His life up in London was not--well, +not exactly all that it should be. He's in with a rather shady crowd." + +"You never told me so." + +"Because you did not believe me to be your friend until quite recently. +I hope I have now proved what I have asserted. If I can do anything to +assist you I am only too ready. I assure you that you have only to +command me." + +Sir Henry reflected deeply for a few moments. The discovery that his +daughter was playing him false caused within him a sudden revulsion of +feeling. Unfortunately, he could not see the expression upon the +countenance of his false friend. He was wondering at that moment whether +he might entrust to him a somewhat delicate mission. + +"Gabrielle shall not return here," her father said, as though speaking +to himself. + +"That is a course which I would most strongly advise. Send the girl +away," urged the other. "Evidently she has grossly betrayed you." + +"That I certainly intend doing," was the answer. "But I wonder, +Flockart, if I might take you at your word, and ask you to do me a +favour? I am so helpless, or I would not think of troubling you." + +"Only tell me what you wish, and I will do it with pleasure." + +"Very well, then," replied the blind man. "Perhaps I shall want you to +go to Paris at once, watch the actions of young Murie, and report to me +from time to time. Would you?" + +A look of bright intelligence overspread the man's features as a new +vista opened before him. Sir Henry was about to take him into his +confidence! "Why, with pleasure," he said cheerily. "I'll start +to-morrow, and rest assured that I'll keep a very good eye upon the +young gentleman. You now know the painful truth concerning your +daughter--the truth which Lady Heyburn has told you so often, and which +you have never yet heeded." + +"Yes, Flockart," answered the afflicted man, taking his guest's hand in +warm friendship. "I once disliked you--that I admit; but you were quite +frank the other day, and now to-night you have succeeded in making a +discovery that, though it has upset me terribly, may mean my salvation." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THROUGH THE MISTS + + +Sir Henry refused to speak with his daughter when, on the following +morning, she stole in and laid her hand softly upon his arm. He ordered +her, in a tone quite unusual, to leave the library. Through the morning +hours she had lain awake trying to make a resolve. But, alas! she dared +not tell the truth; she was in deadly fear of Flockart's reprisals. + +That morning, at nine o'clock, Lady Heyburn and Flockart had held +hurried consultation in secret, at which he had explained to her what +had occurred. + +"Excellent!" she had remarked briefly. "But we must now have a care, my +dear friend. Mind the girl does not throw all prudence to the winds and +turn upon us." + +"Bah!" he laughed, "I don't fear that for a single second." And he left +the room again, to salute her in the breakfast-room a quarter of an hour +later as though they had not met before that day. + +Gabrielle, on leaving her father, went out for a long walk alone, away +over the heather-clad hills. For hours she went on--Jock, her Aberdeen +terrier, toddling at her side, in her hand a stout ash-stick--regardless +of the muddy roads or the wet weather. It was grey, damp, and dismal, +one of those days which in the Highlands are often so very cheerless and +dispiriting. Yet on, and still on, she went, her mind full of the events +of the previous night; full, also, of the dread secret which prevented +her from exposing her father's false friend. In order to save her +father, should she sacrifice herself--sacrifice her own life? That was +the one problem before her. + +She saw nothing; she heeded nothing. Hunger or fatigue troubled her not. +Indeed, she took no notice of where her footsteps led her. Beyond Crieff +she wandered, along the river-bank a short distance, ascending a hill, +where a wild and wonderful view spread before her. There she sat down +upon a big boulder to rest. + +Her hair blown by the chill wind, she sat staring straight before her, +thinking--ever thinking. She had not seen Lady Heyburn that day. She had +seen no one. + +At six o'clock that morning she had written a long letter to Walter +Murie. She had not mentioned the midnight incident, but she had, with +many expressions of regret, pointed out the futility of any further +affection between them. She had not attempted to excuse herself. She +merely told him that she considered herself unworthy of his love, and +because of that, and that alone, she had decided to break off their +engagement. + +A dozen times she had reread the letter after she had completed it. +Surely it was the letter of a heart-broken and desperate woman. Would he +take it in the spirit in which it was meant, she wondered. She loved +him--ah, loved him better than any one else in all the world! But she +now saw that it was useless to masquerade any longer. The blow had +fallen, and it had crushed her. She was powerless to resist, powerless +to deny the false charge against her, powerless to tell the truth. + +That letter, which she knew must come as a cruel blow to Walter, she had +given to the postman with her own hands, and it was now on its way +south. As she sat on the summit of that heather-clad hill she was +wondering what effect her written words would have upon him. He had +loved her so devotedly ever since they had been children together! Well +she knew how strong was his passion for her, how his life was at her +disposal. She knew that on reading those despairing lines of hers he +would be staggered. She recalled the dear face of her soul-mate, his hot +kisses, his soft terms of endearment, and alone there, with none to +witness her bitter grief, she burst into a flood of tears. + +The sad greyness of the landscape was in keeping with her own great +sorrow. She had lost all that was dear to her; and, young as she was, +with hardly any experience of the world and its ways, she was already +the victim of grim circumstance, broken by the grief of a self-renounced +love gnawing at her true heart. + +The knowledge that Lady Heyburn and Flockart would exult over her +downfall and exile to that tiny house in a sleepy little +Northamptonshire village did not trouble her. Her enemies had triumphed. +She had played the game and lost, just as she might have lost at +billiards or at bridge, for she was a thorough sportswoman. She only +grieved because she saw the grave peril of her dear father, and because +she now foresaw the utter hopelessness of her own happiness. + +It was better, she reflected, far better, that she should go into the +dull and dreary exile of an English village, with the unexciting +companionship of Aunt Emily, an ascetic spinster of the mid-Victorian +era, and make pretence of pique with Walter, than to reveal to him the +shameful truth. He would at least in those circumstances retain of her a +recollection fond and tender. He would not despise nor hate her, as he +most certainly would do if he knew the real astounding facts. + +How long she remained there, high up, with the chill winds of autumn +tossing her silky, light-brown hair, she knew not. Rainclouds were +gathering, and the rugged hill before her was now hidden behind a bank +of mist. Time had crept on without her heeding it, for what did time now +matter to her? What, indeed, did anything matter? Her young life, though +she was still in her teens, had ended; or, at least, as far as she was +concerned it had. Was she not calmly and coolly contemplating telling +the truth and putting an end to her existence after saving her father's +honour? + +Her sad, tearful eyes gazed slowly about her as she suddenly awakened to +the fact that she was far--very far--from home. She had been dazed, +unconscious of everything, because of the heavy burden of grief within +her heart. But now she looked forth upon the small, grey loch, with its +dark fringe of trees, the grey and purple hills beyond, the grey sky, +and the grey, filmy mists that hung everywhere. The world was, indeed, +sad and gloomy, and even Jock sat looking up at his young mistress as +though regarding her grief in wonder. + +Now and then distant shots came from across the hills. They were +shooting over the Drummond estate, she knew, for she had had an +invitation to join their luncheon-party that day. Lady Heyburn and +Flockart had no doubt gone. + +That, she told herself, was her last day in the Highlands, that +picturesque, breezy country she loved so well. It was her last day amid +those familiar places where she and Walter had so often wandered +together, and where he had told her of his passionate devotion. Well, +perhaps it was best, after all. Down south she would not be reminded of +him every moment and at every turn. No, she sighed within herself as she +rose to descend the hill, she must steel herself against her own sad +reflections. She must learn how to forget. + +"What will he say?" she murmured aloud as she went down, with Jock +frisking and barking before her. "What will he think of me when he gets +my letter? He will believe me fickle; he will believe that I have +another lover. That is certain. Well, I must allow him to believe it. We +have parted, and we must now, alas! remain apart for ever. Probably he +will seek from my father the truth concerning my disappearance from +Glencardine. Dad will tell him, no doubt. And then--then, what will he +believe? He--he will know that I am unworthy to be his wife. Yet--yet is +it not cruel that I dare not speak the truth and clear myself of this +foul charge of betraying my own dear father? Was ever a girl placed in +such a position as myself, I wonder. Has any girl ever loved a man +better than I love Walter?" Her white lips were set hard, and her fine +eyes became again bedimmed by tears. + +It commenced to rain, that fine drizzle so often experienced north of +the Tweed. But she heeded not. She was used to it. To get wet through +was, to her, quite a frequent occurrence when out fishing. Though there +was no path, she knew her way; and, walking through the wet heather, she +came after half-an-hour out upon a muddy byroad which led her into the +town of Crieff, whence her return was easy; though it was already dusk, +and the dressing-bell had gone, before she re-entered the house by the +servants' door and slipped unobserved up to her own room. + +Elise found her seated in her blue gown before the welcome fire-log, her +chin upon her breast. Her excuse was that she felt unwell; therefore one +of the maids brought her some dinner on a tray. + +Upon the mantelshelf were many photographs, some of them snap-shots of +her schoolfellows and souvenirs of holidays, the odds and ends of +portraits and scenes which every girl unconsciously collects. + +Among them, in a plain silver frame, was the picture of Walter Murie +taken in New York only a few weeks before. Upon the frame was engraved, +"Gabrielle, from Walter." She took it in her hand, and stood for a long +time motionless. Never again, alas! would she look upon that face so +dear to her. Her young heart was already broken, because she was held +fettered and powerless. + +At last she put down the portrait, and, sinking into her chair, sat +crying bitterly. Now that she was outcast by her father, to whom she had +been always such a close, devoted friend, her life was an absolute +blank. At one blow she had lost both lover and father. Already Elise had +told her that she had received instructions to pack her trunks. The +thin-nosed Frenchwoman was apparently much puzzled at the order which +Lady Heyburn had given her, and had asked the girl whom she intended to +visit. The maid had asked what dresses she would require; but Gabrielle +replied that she might pack what she liked for a long visit. The girl +could hear Elise moving about, shaking out skirts, in the adjoining +room, and making preparations for her departure on the morrow. + +Despondent, hopeless, grief-stricken, she sat before the fire for a long +time. She had locked the door and switched off the light, for it +irritated her. She loved the uncertain light of dancing flames, and sat +huddled there in her big chair for the last time. + +She was reflecting upon her own brief life. Scarcely out of the +schoolroom, she had lived most of her days up in that dear old place +where every inch of the big estate was so familiar to her. She +remembered all those happy days at school, first in England, and then in +France, with the kind-faced Sisters in their spotless head-dresses, and +the quiet, happy life of the convent. The calm, grave face of Sister +Marguerite looked down upon her from the mantelshelf as if sympathising +with her pretty pupil in those troubles that had so early come to her. +She raised her eyes, and saw the portrait. Its sight aroused within her +a new thought and fresh recollection. Had not Sister Marguerite always +taught her to beseech the Almighty's aid when in doubt or when in +trouble? Those grave, solemn words of the Mother Superior rang in her +ears, and she fell upon her knees beside her narrow bed in the alcove, +and with murmuring lips prayed for divine support and assistance. She +raised her sweet, troubled face to heaven and made confession to her +Maker. + +Then, after a long silence, she struggled again to her feet, more cool +and more collected. She took up Walter's portrait, and, kissing it, put +it away carefully in a drawer. Some of her little treasures she gathered +together and placed with it, preparatory to departure, for she would on +the morrow leave Glencardine perhaps for ever. + +The stable-clock had struck ten. To where she stood came the strident +sounds of the mechanical piano-player, for some of the gay party were +waltzing in the hall. Their merry shouts and laughter were discordant to +her ears. What cared any of those friends of her step-mother if she were +in disgrace and an outcast? + +Drawing aside the curtain, she saw that the night was bright and +starlit. She preferred the air out in the park to the sounds of gaiety +within that house which was no longer to be her home. Therefore she +slipped on a skirt and blouse, and, throwing her golf-cape across her +shoulders and a shawl over her head, she crept past the room wherein +Elise was packing her belongings, and down the back-stairs to the lawn. + +The sound of the laughter of the men and women of the shooting-party +aroused a poignant bitterness within her. As she passed across the drive +she saw a light in the library, where, no doubt, her father was sitting +in his loneliness, feeling and examining his collection of +seal-impressions. + +She turned, and, walking straight on, struck the gravelled path which +took her to the castle ruins. + +Not until the black, ponderous walls rose before her did she awaken to a +consciousness of her whereabouts. Then, entering the ruined courtyard, +she halted and listened. All was dark. Above, the stars twinkled +brightly, and in the ivy the night-birds stirred the leaves. Holding her +breath, she strained her ears. Yes, she was not deceived! There were +sounds distinct and undeniable. She was fascinated, listening again to +those shadow-voices that were always precursory of death--the fatal +Whispers. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +BY THE MEDITERRANEAN + + +It was February--not the foggy, muddy February of dear, damp Old +England, but winter beside the bright blue Mediterranean, the winter of +the Côte d'Azur. + +At the Villa Heyburn--that big, square, white house with the green +sun-shutters, surrounded by its great garden full of spreading palms, +sweet-smelling mimosa, orange-trees laden with golden fruit, and bright +geraniums, up on the Berigo at San Remo--Lady Heyburn had that afternoon +given a big luncheon-party. The smartest people wintering in that most +sheltered nook of the Italian Riviera had eaten and gossiped and +flirted, and gone back to their villas and hotels. Dull persons found no +place in Lady Heyburn's circle. Most of the people were those she knew +in London or in Paris, including a sprinkling of cosmopolitans, a +Russian prince notorious for his losses over at the new _cercle_ at +Cannes, a divorced Austrian Archduchess, and two or three well-known +diplomats. + +"Dear old Henry" remained, of course, at Glencardine, as he always did. +Lady Heyburn looked upon her winter visit to that beautiful villa +overlooking the calm sapphire sea as her annual emancipation. Henry was +a dear old fellow, she openly confided to her friends, but his +affliction made him terribly trying. + +But Jimmy Flockart, the good-looking, amusing, well-dressed idler, was +living down at the "Savoy," and was daily in her company, driving, +motoring, picnicking, making excursions in the mountains, or taking +trips over to "Monte" by the _train-de-luxe_. He had left the villa +early in the afternoon, returned to his hotel, changed his smart +flannels for a tweed suit, and, taking a stout stick, had set off alone +for his daily constitutional along the sea-road in the direction of that +pretty but half-deserted little watering-place, Ospedaletti. + +Straight before him, into the unruffled, tideless sea, the sun was +sinking in all its blood-red glory as he went at swinging pace along the +white, dusty road, past the _octroi_ barrier, and out into the country +where, on the left, the waves lazily lapped the grey rocks, while upon +the right the fertile slopes were covered with carnations and violets +growing for the markets of Paris and London. In the air was a delightful +perfume, the freshness of the sea in combination with the sweetness of +the flowers. + +A big red motor-car dashed suddenly round a corner, raising a cloud of +dust. An American party were on their way from Genoa to the frontier +along the Corniche, one of the most picturesque routes in all the world. + +James Flockart had no eyes for beauty. He was too occupied by certain +grave apprehensions. That morning he had walked in the garden with Lady +Heyburn, and had a long chat with her. Her attitude had been peculiar. +He could not make her out. She had begged him to promise to leave San +Remo, and when asked to tell the reason of this sudden demand she had +firmly refused. + +"You must leave here, Jimmy," she had said quite calmly. "Go down to +Rome, to Palermo, to Ragusa, or somewhere where you can put in a month +or so in comfort. The Villa Igiea at Palermo would suit you quite +well--lots of smart people, and very decent cooking." + +"Well," he laughed, "as far as hotels go, nothing could be worse than +this place. I'd never put my nose into this hole if it were not for the +fact that you come here. There isn't a hotel worth the name. When one +goes to Monte, or Cannes, or even decaying Nice, one can get decent +cooking. But here--ugh!" and he shrugged his shoulders. "Price higher +than the 'Ritz' in Paris, food fourth-rate, rooms cheaply decorated, and +a dullness unequalled." + +"My dear Jimmy," laughed her ladyship, "you're such a cosmopolitan that +you're incorrigible. I know you don't like this place. You've been here +six weeks, so go." + +"You've had a letter from the old man, eh?" + +"Yes, I have," she replied, and he saw that her countenance changed; but +she would say nothing more. She had decided that he must leave San Remo, +and would hear no argument to the contrary. + +The southern sun sank slowly into the sea, now grey but waveless. On the +horizon lay the long smoke-trail of a passing steamer eastward bound. He +had rounded the steep, rocky headland, and in the hollow before him +nestled the little village of Ospedaletti, with its closed casino, its +rows of small villas, and its palm-lined _passeggiata_. + +A hundred yards farther on he saw the figure of a rather shabby, +middle-aged man, in a faded grey overcoat and grey soft felt-hat of the +mode usual on the Riviera, but discoloured by long wear, leaning upon +the low sea-wall and smoking a cigarette. No other person was in the +vicinity, and it was quickly evident from the manner in which the +wayfarer recognised him and came forward to meet him with outstretched +hand that they had met by appointment. Short of stature as he was, with +fair hair, colourless eyes, and a fair moustache, his slouching +appearance was that of one who had seen better days, even though there +still remained about him a vestige of dandyism. The close observer +would, however, detect that his clothes, shabby though they were, were +of foreign cut, and that his greeting was of that demonstrative +character that betrayed his foreign birth. + +"Well, my dear Krail," exclaimed Flockart, after they had shaken hands +and stood together leaning upon the sea-wall, "you got my wire in +Huntingdon? I was uncertain whether you were at the 'George' or at the +'Fountain,' so I sent a message to both." + +"I was at the 'George,' and left an hour after receipt of your wire." + +"Well, tell me what has happened. How are things up at Glencardine?" + +"Goslin is with the old fellow. He has taken the girl's place as his +confidential secretary," was the shabby man's reply, speaking with a +foreign accent. "Walter Murie was at home for Christmas, but went to +Cairo." + +"And how are matters in Paris?" + +"They are working hard, but it's an uphill pull. The old man is a crafty +old bird. Those papers you got from the safe had been cunningly prepared +for anybody who sought to obtain information. The consequence is that +we've shown our hand, and heavily handicapped ourselves thereby." + +"You told me all that when you were down here a month ago," Flockart +said impatiently. + +"You didn't believe me then. You do now, I suppose?" + +"I've never denied it," Flockart declared, offering the stranger a +Russian cigarette from his gold case. "I was completely misled, and by +the girl also." + +"The girl's influence with her father is happily quite at an end," +remarked the shabby man. "I saw her last week in Woodnewton. The change +from Glencardine to an eight-roomed cottage in a village street must be +rather severe." + +"Only what she deserves," snapped Flockart. "She defied us." + +"Granted. But I cannot help thinking that we haven't played a very fair +game," said the man. "Remember, she's only a girl." + +"But dangerous to us and to our plans, my dear Krail. She knows a lot." + +"Because--well, forgive me for saying so, my dear Flockart--because +you've been a fool, and have allowed her to know." + +"It wasn't I; it was the woman." + +"Lady Heyburn! Why, I always believed her to be the soul of discretion." + +"She's been too defiant of consequences. A dozen times I've warned her; +but she will not heed." + +"Then she'll land herself in a deep hole if she isn't careful," replied +the foreigner, speaking very fair English. "Does she know I'm here?" + +"Of course not. If we're to play the game she must know nothing. She's +already inclined to throw prudence to the winds, and to confess all to +her husband." + +"Confess!" gasped the stranger, paling beneath his rather sallow skin. +"_Per Bacco!_ she's not going to be such an idiot, surely?" + +"We were run so close, and so narrowly escaped discovery after I got at +those papers at Glencardine, that she seems to have lost heart," +Flockart remarked. + +"But if she acted the fool and told Sir Henry, it would mean ruin for +us, and that would also mean----" + +"It would mean exposure for Gabrielle," interrupted Flockart. "The old +man dare not lift his voice for his daughter's sake." + +"Ah," exclaimed Krail, "that's just where you've acted injudiciously! +You've set him against her; therefore he wouldn't spare her." + +"It was imperative. I couldn't afford to be found prying into the old +man's papers, could I? I got impressions of his key while walking in the +park one day. He's never suspected it." + +"Of course not. He believes in you," laughed his friend, "as one of the +few upright men who are his friends! But," he added, "you've done wrong, +my dear fellow, to trust a woman with a secret. Depend upon it, her +ladyship will let you down." + +"Well, if she does," remarked Flockart, with a shrug of the shoulders, +"she'll have to suffer with me. You know where we should all find +ourselves." + +The man pulled a wry face and puffed at his cigarette in silence. + +"What does the girl do?" asked Flockart a few moments later. + +"Well, she seems to have a pretty dull time with the old lady. I stayed +at the 'Cardigan Arms' at Woodnewton for two days--a miserable little +place--and watched her pretty closely. She's out a good deal, rambling +alone across the country with a collie belonging to a neighbouring +farmer. She's the very picture of sadness, poor little girl!" + +"You seem to sympathise with her, Krail. Why, does she not stand between +us and fortune?" + +"She'll stand between us and a court of assize if that woman acts the +fool!" declared the shabby stranger, who moved so rapidly and whose +vigilance seemed unequalled. + +"If we go, she shall go also," Flockart declared in a threatening voice. + +"But you must prevent such a _contretemps_," Krail urged. + +"Ah, it's all very well to talk like that! But you know enough of her +ladyship to be aware that she acts on her own initiative." + +"That shows that she's no fool," remarked the foreigner quickly. "You +who hold her in the hollow of your hand must prevent her from opening up +to her husband. The whole future lies with you." + +"And what is the future without money? We want a few thousands for +immediate necessities, both of us. The woman's allowance from her +husband is nowadays a mere bagatelle." + +"Because he probably knows that some of her money has gone into your +pockets, my dear boy." + +"No; he's completely in ignorance of that. How, indeed, could he know? +She takes very good care there's no possibility of his finding out." + +"Well," remarked the stranger, "that's what I fear has happened, or may +one day happen. The fact is, _caro mio_, we are in a quandary at the +present moment. You were a bit too confident in dealing with those +documents you found at Glencardine. You should have taken her ladyship +into your confidence and got her to pump her husband concerning them. If +you had, we shouldn't have made the mess of it that we have done." + +"I must admit, Krail, that what you say is true," declared the +well-dressed man. "You are such a philosopher always! I asked you to +come here in secret to explain the exact position." + +"It is one of peril. We are checkmated. Goslin holds the whole position +in his hands, and will keep it." + +"Very fortunately for you he doesn't, though we were very near exposure +when I went out to Athens and made a fool of myself upon the report +furnished by you." + +"I believed it to be a genuine one. I had no idea that the old man was +so crafty." + +"Exactly. And if he displayed such clever ingenuity and forethought in +laying a trap for the inquisitive, is it not more than likely that there +may be other traps baited with equal craft and cunning?" + +"Then how are we to make the _coup_?" Flockart asked, looking into the +colourless eyes of his friend. + +"We shall, I fear, never make it, unless----" + +"Unless what?" he asked. + +"Unless the old man meets with an accident," replied the other, in a +low, distinct voice. "_Blind men sometimes do, you know!_" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +WHICH SHOWS A SHABBY FOREIGNER + + +Felix Krail, his cigarette held half-way to his lips, stood watching the +effect of his insinuation. He saw a faint smile playing about Flockart's +lips, and knew that it appealed to him. Old Sir Henry Heyburn had laid a +clever trap for him, a trap into which he himself believed that his +daughter had fallen. Why should not Flockart retaliate? + +The shabby stranger, whose own ingenuity and double-dealing were little +short of marvellous, and under whose watchful vigilance the Heyburn +household had been ever since her ladyship and her friend Flockart had +gone south, stood silent, but in complete satisfaction. + +The well-dressed Riviera-lounger--the man so well known at all the +various gay resorts from Ventimiglia along to Cannes, and who was a +member of the Fêtes Committee at San Remo and at Nice--merely exchanged +glances with his friend and smiled. Quickly, however, he changed the +topic of conversation. "And what's occurring in Paris?" + +"Ah, there we have the puzzle!" replied the man Krail, his accent being +an unfamiliar one--so unfamiliar, indeed, that those unacquainted with +the truth were always placed in doubt regarding his true nationality. + +"But you've made inquiry?" asked his friend quickly. + +"Of course; but the business is kept far too close. Every precaution is +taken to prevent anything leaking out," Krail responded. + +"The clerks will speak, won't they?" the other said. + +"_Mon cher ami_, they know no more of the business of the mysterious +firm of which the blind Baronet is the head than we do ourselves," said +Krail. + +"They make enormous financial deals, that's very certain." + +"Not deals--but _coups_ for themselves," he laughed, correcting +Flockart. "Recollect what I discovered in Athens, and the extraordinary +connection you found in Brussels." + +"Ah, yes. You mean that clever crowd--four men and two women who were +working the gambling concession from the Dutch Government!" exclaimed +Flockart. "Yes, that was a complete mystery. They sent wires in cipher +to Sir Henry at Glencardine. I managed to get a glance at one of them, +and it was signed 'Metaforos.'" + +"That's their Paris cable address," said his companion. + +"Surely you, with your network of sources of information, and your own +genius for discovering secrets, ought to be able to reveal the true +nature of Sir Henry's business. Is it an honest one?" asked Flockart. + +"I think not." + +"Think! Why, my dear Felix, this isn't like you only to think; you +always _know_. You're so certain of your facts that I've always banked +upon them." + +The other gave his shoulders a shrug of indecision. "It was not a +judicious move on your part to get rid of the girl from Glencardine," he +said slowly. "While she was there we had a chance of getting at some +clue. But now old Goslin has taken her place we may just as well abandon +investigation at that end." + +"You've failed, Krail, and attribute your failure to me," protested his +companion. "How could I risk being ignominiously kicked out of +Glencardine as a spy?" + +"Whatever attitude you might have taken would have had the same result. +We used the information, and found ourselves fooled--tricked by a very +crafty old man, who actually prepared those documents in case he was +betrayed." + +"Admitted," said Flockart. "But even though we made fools of ourselves +in Athens, and caused the Greek Government to look upon us as rogues and +liars, the girl is suspected; and I for one don't mean to give in before +we've secured a nice, snug little sum." + +"How are we to do it?" + +"By obtaining knowledge of the game being played in Paris, and working +in an opposite direction," Flockart replied. "We are agreed upon one +point: that for the past few years, ever since Goslin came on the scene, +Sir Henry's business--a big one, there is no doubt--has been of a +mysterious and therefore shady character. By his confidence in +Gabrielle, his care that nobody ever got a chance inside that safe, his +regular consultations with Goslin (who travelled from Paris specially to +see him), his constant telegrams in cipher, and his refusal to allow +even his wife to obtain the slightest inkling into his private affairs, +it is shown that he fears exposure. Do you agree?" + +"Most certainly I do." + +"Well, any man who is in dread of the truth becoming known must be +carrying on some negotiations the reverse of creditable. He is the +moving spirit of that shady house, without a doubt," declared Flockart, +who had so often grasped the blind man's hand in friendship. "In such +fear that his transactions should become known, and that exposure might +result, he actually had prepared documents on purpose to mislead those +who pried into his affairs. Therefore, the instant we discover the +truth, fortune will be at our hand. We all want money, you, I, and Lady +Heyburn--and money we'll have." + +"With these sentiments, my dear friend, I entirely and absolutely +agree," remarked the shabby man, lighting a fresh cigarette. "But one +fact you seem to have entirely overlooked." + +"What?" + +"The girl. She stands between you, and she might come back into the old +man's favour, you know." + +"And even though she did, that makes no difference," Flockart answered +defiantly. + +"Why?" + +"Because she dare not say a single word against me." + +Krail looked him straight in the face with considerable surprise, but +made no comment. + +"She knows better," Flockart added. + +"Never believe too much in your own power with a woman, _mon cher ami_," +remarked the other dubiously. "She's young, therefore of a romantic turn +of mind. She's in love, remember, which makes matters much worse for +us." + +"Why?" + +"Because, being in love, she may become seized with a sentimental fit. +This ends generally in a determination of self-sacrifice; and in such +case she would tell the truth in defiance of you, and would be heedless +of her own danger." + +Flockart drew a long breath. What this man said was, he knew within his +own heart, only too true of the girl towards whom they had been so cruel +and so unscrupulous. His had been a lifelong scheme, and as part of his +scheme in conjunction with the woman who was Sir Henry's wife, it had +been unfortunately compulsory to sacrifice the girl who was the blind +man's right hand. + +Yes, Gabrielle was deeply in love with Walter Murie--the man upon whom +Sir Henry now looked as his enemy, and who would have exposed him to the +Greek Government if the blind man had not been too clever. The Baronet, +after his daughter's confession, naturally attributed her curiosity to +Walter's initiative, the more especially that Walter had been in Paris, +and, it was believed, in Athens also. + +The pair were, however, now separated. Krail, in pursuit of his diligent +inquiries, had actually been in Woodnewton, and seen the lonely little +figure, sad and dejected, taking long rambles accompanied only by a +farmer's sheep-dog. Young Murie had not been there; nor did the pair now +correspond. This much Krail had himself discovered. + +The problem placed before Flockart by his shabby friend was a somewhat +disconcerting one. On the one hand, Lady Heyburn had urged him to leave +the Riviera, without giving him any reason, and on the other, he had the +ever-present danger of Gabrielle, in a sudden fit of sentimental +self-sacrifice, "giving him away." If she did, what then? The mere +suggestion caused him to bite his nether lip. + +Krail knew a good deal, but he did not know all. Perhaps it was as well +that he did not. There is a code of honour among adventurers all the +world over; but few of them can resist the practice of blackmail when +they chance to fall upon evil days. + +"Yes," Flockart said reflectively, as at Krail's suggestion they turned +and began to descend the steep hill towards Ospedaletti, "perhaps it's a +pity, after all, that the girl left Glencardine. Yet surely she's safer +with her aunt?" + +"She was driven from Glencardine!" + +"By her father." + +"You sacrificed her in order to save yourself. That was but natural. +It's a pity, however, you didn't take my advice." + +"I suggested it to Lady Heyburn. But she would have nothing to do with +it. She declared that such a course was far too dangerous." + +"Dangerous!" echoed the shabby man. "Surely it could not have placed +either of you in any greater danger than you are in already?" + +"She didn't like it." + +"Few people do," laughed the other. "But, depend upon it, it's the only +way. She wouldn't, at any rate, have had an opportunity of telling the +truth." + +Flockart pulled a wry face, and after a silence of a few moments said, +"Don't let us discuss that. We fully considered all the pros and cons, +at the time." + +"Her ladyship is growing scrupulously honest of late," sneered his +companion. "She'll try to get rid of you very soon, I expect." + +The latter sentence was more full of meaning than the speaker dreamed. +The words, falling upon Flockart's ears, caused him to wince. Was her +ladyship really trying to rid herself of his influence? He laughed +within himself at the thought of her endeavouring to release herself +from the bond. For her he had never, at any moment, entertained either +admiration or affection. Their association had always been purely one of +business--business, be it said, in which he made the profits and she the +losses. + +"It would hardly be an easy matter for her," replied the easy-going, +audacious adventurer. + +"She seems to be very popular up at Glencardine," remarked the +foreigner, "because she's extravagant and spends money in the +neighbourhood, I suppose. But the people in Auchterarder village +criticise her treatment of Gabrielle. They hear gossip from the +servants, I expect." + +"They should know of the girl's treatment of her stepmother," exclaimed +Flockart. "But there, villagers are always prone to listen to and +embroider any stories concerning the private life of the gentry. It's +just the same in Scotland as in any other country in the world." + +"Ah!" continued Flockart, "in Scotland the old families are gradually +decaying, and their estates are falling into the hands of blatant +parvenus. Counter-jumpers stalk deer nowadays, and city clerks on their +holidays shoot over peers' preserves. The humble Scot sees it all with +regret, because he has no real liking for this latter-day invasion by +the newly-rich English. Cotton-spinners from Lancashire buy +deer-forests, and soap-boilers from Limehouse purchase castles with +family portraits and ghosts complete." + +"Ah! speaking of the supernatural," exclaimed Krail suddenly, "do you +know I had a most extraordinary and weird experience when at Glencardine +about three weeks ago. I actually heard the Whispers!" + +Flockart stared hard at the man at his side, and, laughing outright, +said, "Well, that's the best joke I've heard to-day. You, of all men, to +be taken in by a mere superstition." + +"But, my dear friend, I heard them," said Krail. "I swear I actually +heard them! And I--well, I admit to you, even though you may laugh at me +for being a superstitious fool--I somehow anticipate that something +uncanny is about to happen to me." + +"You're going to die, like all the rest of them, I suppose," laughed his +friend, as they descended the dusty, winding road that led to the +palm-lined promenade of the quiet little Mediterranean watering-place. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +"WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK" + + +On their left were several white villas, before which pink and scarlet +geraniums ran riot, with spreading mimosas golden with their feathery +blossom, for Ospedaletti makes a frantic, if vain, bid for popularity as +a winter-resort. Its deadly dullness, however, is too well known to the +habitué of the Riviera; and its casino, which never obtained a licence, +imparts to it the air of painful effort at gaiety. + +"Well," remarked the shabby man as they passed along and out upon the +sea-road in the direction of Bordighera, "I always looked upon what the +people at Auchterarder said regarding the Whispers as a mere myth. But +now, having heard them with my own ears, how can I have further doubt?" + +"I've listened in the Castle ruins a good many times, my dear Krail," +replied the other, "but I've never heard anything more exciting than an +owl. Indeed, Lady Heyburn and I, when there was so much gossip about the +strange noises some two years ago, set to work to investigate. We went +there at least a dozen times, but without result; only both of us caught +bad colds." + +"Well," exclaimed Krail, "I used to ridicule the weird stories I heard +in the village about the Devil's Whisper, and all that. But by mere +chance I happened to be at the spot one bright night, and I heard +distinct whisperings, just as had been described to me. They gave me a +very creepy feeling, I can assure you." + +"Bosh! Now, do you believe in ghosts, you man-of-the-world that you are, +my dear Felix?" + +"No. Most decidedly I don't." + +"Then what you've heard is only in imagination, depend upon it. The +supernatural doesn't exist in Glencardine, that's quite certain," +declared Flockart. "The fact is that there's so much tradition and +legendary lore connected with the old place, and its early owners were +such a set of bold and defiant robbers, that for generations the +peasantry have held it in awe. Hence all sorts of weird and terrible +stories have been invented and handed down, until the present age +believes them to be based upon fact." + +"But, my dear friend, I actually heard the Whispers--heard them with my +own ears," Krail asserted. "I happened to be about the place that night, +trying to get a peep into the library, where Goslin and the old man +were, I believe, busy at work. But the blinds fitted too closely, so +that I couldn't see inside. The keeper and his men were, I knew, down in +the village; therefore I took a stroll towards the ruins, and, as it was +a beautiful night, I sat down in the courtyard to have a smoke. Then, of +a sudden, I heard low voices quite distinctly. They startled me, for not +until they fell upon my ears did I recall the stories told to me weeks +before." + +"If Stewart or any of the under-keepers had found you prowling about the +Castle grounds at that hour they might have asked you awkward +questions," remarked Flockart. + +"Oh," laughed the other, "they all know me as a visitor to the village +fond of walking exercise. I took very good care that they should all +know me, so that as few explanations as possible would be necessary. As +you well know, the secret of all my successes is that I never leave +anything to chance." + +"To go peeping about outside the house and trying to took in at lighted +windows sounds a rather injudicious proceeding," his companion declared. + +"Not if proper precautions are taken, as I took them. I was weeks in +that terribly dull Scotch village, but nobody suspected my real mission. +I made quite a large circle of friends at the 'Star,' who all believed +me to be a foreign ornithologist writing a book upon the birds of +Scotland. Trust me to tell people a good story." + +"Well," exclaimed Flockart, after a long silence, "those Whispers are +certainly a mystery, more especially if you've actually heard them. On +two or three occasions I've spoken to Sir Henry about them. He ridicules +the idea, yet he admitted to me one evening that the voices had really +been heard. I declared that the most remarkable fact was the sudden +death of each person who had listened and heard them. It is a curious +phenomenon, which certainly should be investigated." + +"The inference is that I, having listened to the ghostly voices, am +doomed to a sudden and violent end," remarked the shabby stranger quite +gloomily. + +Flockart laughed. "Really, Felix, this is too funny!" he said. "Fancy +your taking notice of such old wives' fables! Why, my dear fellow, +you've got many years of constant activity before you yet. You must +return to Paris in the morning, and watch in patience." + +"I have watched, but discovered nothing." + +"Perhaps I'll come and assist you; most probably I shall." + +"No, don't! As soon as you leave San Remo Sir Henry will know, and he +might suspect." + +"Suspect what?" + +"That you are in search of the truth, and of fortune in consequence." + +"He believes in me. Only the other day I had a letter from him written +in Goslin's hand, repeating the confidence he reposes in me." + +"Exactly. You must remain down here for the present." + +Flockart recollected the puzzling decision of Lady Heyburn, and remained +silent. + +"Our chief peril is still the one which has faced us all along," went on +the man in the grey hat--"the peril that the girl may tell about that +awkward affair at Chantilly." + +"She dare not," Flockart assured him quickly. + +Krail shook his head dubiously. "She's leading a lonely life. Her heart +is broken, and she believes herself, as every other young girl does, to +be without a future. Therefore, she's brooding over it. One never knows +in such cases when a girl may fling all prudence to the winds," he said. +"If she did, then nothing could save us." + +"That's just what her ladyship said the other day," answered Flockart, +tossing away his cigarette. "But you don't know that I hold her +irrevocably. She dare not say a single word. If she dare, why did she +not tell the truth about the safe?" + +"Probably because it was all too sudden. She now finds life in that +dismal little village intolerable. She's a girl of spirit, you know, and +has always been used to luxury and freedom. To live with an old woman in +a country cottage away from all her friends must be maddening. No, my +dear James, in this you've acted most injudiciously. You were devoid of +your usual foresight. Depend upon it, a very serious danger threatens. +She will speak." + +"I tell you she dare not. Rest your mind assured." + +"She will." + +"_She shall not!_" + +"How, pray, can you close her mouth?" asked the foreigner. + +Flockart's eyes met his. In them was a curious expression, almost a +glitter. + +Krail understood. He shrugged his shoulders, but uttered no word. His +gesture was, however, that of one unconvinced. Adventurer as he was, +ingenious and unscrupulous, he lived from hand to mouth. Sometimes he +made a big _coup_ and placed himself in funds. But following such an +event he was open-handed and generous to his friends, extravagant in his +expenditure; and very soon found himself under the necessity to exercise +his wits in order to obtain the next louis. He had known Flockart for +years as one of his own class. They had first met long ago on board a +Castle liner homeward bound from Capetown, where both found themselves +playing a crooked game. A friendship begotten of dishonesty had sprung +up between them, and in consequence they had thrown in their lot +together more than once with considerable financial advantage. + +The present affair was, however, not much to Krail's liking, and this he +had more than once told his friend. It was quite possible that if they +could discover the mysterious source of this blind man's wealth they +might, by judiciously levying blackmail through a third party, secure a +very handsome income which he was to share with Flockart and her +ladyship. + +The last-named Krail had always admitted to be one of the cleverest +women he had ever met. His only surprise had been that she, as Sir +Henry's wife, was unable to get at the facts which were so cleverly +withheld. It only showed, however, that the Baronet, though deprived of +eyesight, was even more clever than the unscrupulous woman he had so +foolishly married. + +Krail held Lady Heyburn in distinct distrust. He had once had dealings +with her which had turned out the reverse of satisfactory. Instinctively +he knew that, in order to save herself, if exposure ever came, she would +"give him away" without the least compunction. + +What had puzzled him for several years, and what, indeed, had puzzled +other people, was the reason of the close friendship between Flockart +and the Baronet's wife. It was certainly not affection. He knew Flockart +intimately, and had knowledge of his private affairs; therefore he was +well aware of the existence of an unknown and rather insignificant woman +to whom he was in secret devoted. + +No; the bond between the pair was an entirely mysterious one. He knew +that on more than one occasion, when Flockart's demands for money had +been a little too frequent, she had resisted and attempted to withdraw +from further association with him. Yet by a single word, or even a look, +he could compel her to disgorge the funds he needed, for she had even +handed him some of her trinkets to pawn until she could obtain further +funds from Sir Henry to redeem them. + +As they walked together along the white Corniche Road, their faces set +towards the gorgeous southern afterglow, while the waves lapped lazily +on the grey rocks, all these puzzling thoughts recurred to Krail. + +"Lady Heyburn seems still to remain your very devoted friend," he +remarked at last with a meaning smile. "I see from the _New York Herald_ +what pleasant parties she gives, and how she is the heart and soul of +social merriment in San Remo. By Jove, James! you're a lucky man to +possess such a popular hostess as friend." + +"Yes," laughed Flockart, "Winnie is a regular pal. Without her I should +have been broken long ago. But she's always ready to help me along." + +"People have already remarked upon your remarkable friendship," said his +friend, "and many ill-natured allegations have been made." + +"Oh, yes, I'm quite well aware of that, my dear fellow. It has pained me +more than enough. You yourself know that, as far as affection goes, I've +never in my life entertained a spark of it for Winnie. We were children +together, and have been friends always." + +"Quite so!" exclaimed Krail, smiling. "That's a pretty good story to +tell the world. But there's a point where mere friendship must break, +you know." + +"What do you mean?" asked the other, glancing at him in surprise. + +"Well, the story you tell other people may be picturesque and romantic, +but with me it's just a trifle weak. Lady Heyburn doesn't give her +pearls to be pawned, out of mere friendship, you know." + +Flockart was silent. He knew too well that the man walking at his side +was as clever an intriguer and as bold an adventurer as had ever moved +up and down Europe "working the game" in search of pigeons to pluck. His +shabbiness was assumed. He had alighted at Bordighera station from the +_rapide_ from Paris, spent the night at a third-rate hotel in order not +to be recognised at the Angst or any of the smarter houses, and had met +him by appointment to explain the present situation. His remarks, +however, were the reverse of reassuring. What did he suspect? + +"I don't quite follow you, Krail," Flockart said. + +"I meant to imply that if friendship only links you with Lady Heyburn, +the chain may quite easily snap," he remarked. + +He looked at his friend, much puzzled. He could see no point in that +observation. + +Krail read what was passing in the other's mind, and added, "I know, +_mon cher ami_, that affection from her ladyship is entirely out of the +question. The gossips are liars. And----" + +"Sir Henry himself is quite aware of that. I have already spoken quite +plainly and openly to him, and suggested my departure from Glencardine +on account of ill-natured remarks by her ladyship's enemies. But he +would not hear of my leaving, and pressed me to remain." + +Krail looked at him in blank surprise. "Well," he said, "if you've been +bold enough to do this in face of the gossip, then you're a much +cleverer man than ever I took you to be." + +For answer, Flockart took some letters from his breast-pocket, selected +one written in a foreign hand, and gave it to Krail to read. It was from +the hermit of Glencardine, written at his dictation by Monsieur Goslin, +and was couched in the warmest and most confidential terms. + +"Look here, James," exclaimed the shabby man, handing back the letter, +"I'm going to be perfectly frank with you. Tell me if I speak the truth +or if I lie. It is neither affection nor friendship which links your +life with that woman's. Am I right?" + +Flockart did not answer for some moments. His eyes were cast upon the +ground. "Yes, Krail," he admitted at last when the question had been put +to him a second time--"yes, Krail. You speak the truth. It is neither +affection nor friendship." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +SHOWS GABRIELLE IN EXILE + + +Midway between historic Fotheringhay and ancient Apethorpe, the +ancestral seat of the Earls of Westmorland, lay the long, straggling, +and rather poverty-stricken village of Woodnewton. Like many other +Northamptonshire villages, it consisted of one long street of cottages, +many of them with dormer windows peeping from beneath the brown thatch, +the better houses of stone, with old mullioned windows, but all of them +more or less in stages of decay. With the depreciation in agriculture, +Woodnewton, once quite a prosperous little place, was now terribly +shabby and depressing. + +As he entered the village, the first object that met the eye of the +stranger was a barn with the roof half fallen away, and next it a ruined +house with its moss-grown thatch full of holes. The paving was ill-kept, +and even the several inns bore an appearance of struggles with poverty. + +Half-way up the long, straight, dispiriting street stood a cottage +larger and neater-looking than the rest. Its ugly exterior was +half-hidden by ivy, which had been cut away from the diamond-paned +windows; while, unlike its neighbours, its roof was tiled and its brown +door newly painted and highly varnished. + +Old Miss Heyburn lived there, and had lived there for the past +half-century. The prim, grey-haired, and somewhat eccentric old lady was +a well-known figure to all on that country-side. Twice each Sunday, with +her large-type Prayer-book in her hand, and her steel-rimmed spectacles +on her thin nose, she walked to church, while she was one of the +principal supporters of the village clothing-club and such-like +institutions inaugurated by the worthy rector. + +Essentially an ascetic person, she was looked upon with fear by all the +villagers. Her manner was brusque, her speech sharp, and her criticism +of neglectful mothers caustic and much to the point. Prim, always in +black bonnet and jet-trimmed cape of years gone by, both in summer and +winter, she took no heed of the vagaries of fashion, even when they +reached Woodnewton so tardily. + +The common report was that when a girl she had been "crossed in love," +for her single maidservant she always trained to a sober and loveless +life like her own, and as soon as a girl cast an eye upon a likely swain +she was ignominiously dismissed. + +That the sharp-tongued spinster possessed means was undoubted. It was +known that she was sister of Sir Henry Heyburn of Caistor, in +Lincolnshire; and, on account of her social standing, she on rare +occasions was bidden to the omnium gatherings at some of the mansions in +the neighbourhood. She seldom accepted; but when she did it was only to +satisfy her curiosity and to criticise. + +The household of two, the old lady and her exemplary maid, was assuredly +a dull one. Meals were taken with punctual regularity amid a cleanliness +that was almost painful. The tiny drawing-room, with its row of +window-plants, including a pot of strong-smelling musk, was hardly ever +entered. Not a speck of dust was allowed anywhere, for Miss Emily's eye +was sharp, and woe betide the maid if a mere suspicion of dirt were +discovered! Everything was kept locked up. One maid who resigned +hurriedly, refusing to be criticised, afterwards declared that her +mistress kept the paraffin under lock and key. + +And into this uncomfortably prim and proper household little Gabrielle +had suddenly been introduced. Her heart overburdened by grief, and full +of regret at being compelled to part from the father she so fondly +loved, she had accepted the inevitable, fully realising the dull +greyness of the life that lay before her. Surely her exile there was a +cruel and crushing one! The house seemed so tiny and so suffocating +after the splendid halls and huge rooms at Glencardine, while her aunt's +constant sarcasm about her father--whom she had not seen for eight +years--was particularly galling. + +The woman treated the girl as a wayward child sent there for punishment +and correction. She showed her neither kindness nor consideration; for, +truth to tell, it annoyed her to think that her brother should have +imposed the girl upon her. She hated to be bothered with the girl; but, +existing upon Sir Henry's charity, as she really did, though none knew +it, she could do no otherwise than accept his daughter as her guest. + +Days, weeks, months had passed, each day dragging on as its predecessor, +a wretched, hopeless, despairing existence to a girl so full of life and +vitality as Gabrielle. Though she had written several times to her +father, he had sent her no reply. To her mother at San Remo she had also +written, and from her had received one letter, cold and unresponsive. +From Walter Murie nothing--not a single word. + +The well-thumbed books in the village library she had read, as well as +those in the possession of her aunt. She had tried needlework, problems +of patience, and the translation of a few chapters of an Italian novel +into English in order to occupy her time. But those hours when she was +alone in her little upstairs room with the sloping roof passed, alas! so +very slowly. + +Upon her, ever oppressive, were thoughts of that bitter past. At one +staggering blow she had lost all that had made her young life worth +living--her father's esteem and her lover's love. She was innocent, +entirely innocent, of the terrible allegations against her, and yet she +was so utterly defenceless! + +Often she sat at her little window for hours watching the lethargy of +village life in the street below, that rural life in which the rector +and the schoolmaster were the principal figures. The dullness of it all +was maddening. Her aunt's mid-Victorian primness, her snappishness +towards the trembling maid, and the thousand and one rules of her daily +life irritated her and jarred upon her nerves. + +So, in order to kill time, and at the same time to study the antiquities +of the neighbourhood--her father having taught her so much deep +antiquarian knowledge--it had been her habit for three months past to +take long walks for many miles across the country, accompanied by the +black collie Rover belonging to a young farmer who lived at the end of +the village. The animal had one day attached itself to her while she was +taking a walk on the Apethorpe road; and now, by her feeding him daily +and making a pet of him, the girl and the dog had become inseparable. By +long walks and short train-journeys she had, in three months, been able +to inspect most of the antiquities of Northamptonshire. Much of the +history of the county was intensely interesting: the connection of old +Fotheringhay with the ill-fated Mary Queen of Scots, the beauties of +Peterborough Cathedral, the splendid old Tudor house of Deene (the home +of the Earls of Cardigan), the legends of King John concerning King's +Cliffe, the gaunt splendour of ruined Kirby, and the old-world charm of +Apethorpe. All these, and many others, had great attraction for her. She +read them up in books she ordered from London, and then visited the old +places with all the enthusiasm of a spectacled antiquary. + +Every day, no matter what the weather, she might be seen, in her thick +boots, burberry, and tam o'shanter, trudging along the roads or across +the fields accompanied by the faithful collie. The winter had been a +comparatively mild one, with excessive rain. But no downpour troubled +her. She liked the rain to beat into her face, for the dismal, +monotonous cheerlessness of the brown fields, bare trees, and muddy +roads was in keeping with the tragedy of her own young life. + +She knew that her aunt Emily disliked her. The covert sneers, the +caustic criticisms, and the go-to-meeting attitude of the old lady +irritated the girl beyond measure. She was not wanted in that painfully +prim cottage, and had been made to understand it from the first day. + +Hence it was that she spent all the time she possibly could out of +doors. Alone she had traversed the whole county, seeking permission to +glance at the interior of any old house or building that promised +archaeological interest, and by that means making some curious +friendships. + +Many people regarded the pretty young girl who made a study of old +churches and old houses as somewhat eccentric. Local antiquaries, +however, stared at her in wonder when they found that she was possessed +of knowledge far more profound than theirs, and that she could decipher +old documents and read Latin inscriptions with ease. + +She made few friends, preferring solitude and reflection to visiting and +gossiping. Hers was, indeed, a pathetic little figure, and the +countryfolk used to stare at her in surprise and sigh as she passed +through the various little hamlets and villages so regularly, the black +collie bounding before her. + +Quickly she had become known as "Miss Heyburn's niece," and the report +having spread that she was "a bit eccentric, poor thing," people soon +ceased to wonder, and began to regard that pale, sad face with sympathy. +The whole country-side was wondering why such a pretty young lady had +gone to live in the deadly dullness of Woodnewton, and what was the +cause of that great sorrow written upon her countenance. + +Her daily burden of bitter reflection was, indeed, hard to bear. Her one +thought, as she walked those miles of lonely rural byways, so bare and +cheerless, was of Walter--her Walter--the man who, she knew, would have +willingly given his very life for hers. She had met her just punishment, +and was now endeavouring to bear it bravely. She had renounced his love +for ever. + +One afternoon, dark and rainy, in the gloom of early March, she was +sitting at the old-fashioned and rather tuneless piano in the damp, +unused "best room," which was devoid of fire for economic reasons. Her +aunt was seated in the window busily crocheting, while she, with her +white fingers running across the keys, raised her sweet contralto voice +in that old-world Florentine song that for centuries has been sung by +the populace in the streets of the city by the Arno: + + In questa notte in sogno l'ho veduto + Era vestito tutto di braccato, + Le piume sul berretto di velluto + Ed una spada d'oro aveva allato. + + E poi m'ha detto con un bel sorriso; + Io no, non posso star da te diviso, + Da te diviso non ci posso stare + E torno per mai pin non ti lasciare. + +Miss Heyburn sighed, and looked up from her work. "Can't you sing +something in English, Gabrielle? It would be much better," she remarked +in a snappy tone. + +The girl's mouth hardened slightly at the corners, and she closed the +piano without replying. + +"I don't mean you to stop," exclaimed the ascetic old lady. "I only +think that girls, instead of learning foreign songs, should be able to +sing English ones properly. Won't you sing another?" + +"No," replied the girl, rising. "The rain has ceased, so I shall go for +my walk;" and she left the room to put on her hat and mackintosh, +passing along before the window a few minutes later in the direction of +King's Cliffe. + +It was always the same. If she indulged herself in singing one or other +of those ancient love-songs of the hot-blooded Tuscan peasants her aunt +always scolded. Nothing she did was right, for the simple reason that +she was an unwelcome visitor. + +She was alone. Rover was conducting sheep to Stamford market, as was his +duty every week; therefore in the fading daylight she went along, +immersed in her own sad thoughts. Her walk at that hour was entirely +aimless. She had only gone forth because of the irritation she felt at +her aunt's constant complaints. So entirely engrossed was she by her own +despair that she had not noticed the figure of a man who, catching sight +of her at the end of Woodnewton village, had held back until she had +gone a considerable distance, and had then sauntered leisurely in the +direction she had taken. + +The man kept her in view, but did not approach her. The high, red +mail-cart passed, and the driver touched his hat respectfully to her. +The man who collected the evening mail from all the villages between +Deene and Peterborough met her almost every evening, and had long ago +inquired and learnt who she was. + +For nearly two miles she walked onward, until, close by the junction of +the road which comes down the hill from Nassington, the man who had been +following hastened up and overtook her. + +She heard herself addressed by name, and, turning quickly, found herself +face to face with James Flockart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE VELVET PAW + + +The new-comer stood before Gabrielle, hat in hand, smiling pleasantly +and uttering a greeting of surprise. + +Her response was cold, for was not all her present unhappiness due to +him? + +"I've come here to speak to you, Gabrielle--to speak to you in +confidence." + +"Whatever you have to say may surely be said in the hearing of a third +person?" was her dignified answer. His sudden appearance had startled +her, but only for a moment. She was cool again next instant, and on her +guard against her enemy. + +"I hardly think," he said, with a meaning smile, "that you would really +like me to speak before a third party." + +"I really care nothing," was her answer. "And I cannot see why you seek +me here. When one is hopeless, as I am, one becomes callous of what the +future may bring." + +"Hopeless! Yes," he said in a changed voice, "I know that; living in +this dismal hole, Gabrielle, you must be hopeless. I know that your +exile here, away from all your friends and those you love, must be +soul-killing. Don't think that I have not reflected upon it a hundred +times." + +"Ah, then you have at last experienced remorse!" she cried bitterly, +looking straight into the man's face. "You have estranged me from my +father, and tried to ruin him! You lied to him--lied in order to save +yourself!" + +The man laughed. "My dear child," he exclaimed, "you really misjudge me +entirely. I am here for two reasons: to ask your forgiveness for making +that allegation which was imperative; and, secondly, to assure you that, +if you will allow me, I will yet be your friend." + +"Friend!" she echoed in a hollow voice. "You--my friend!" + +"Yes. I know that you mistrust me," he replied; "but I want to prove +that my intentions towards you are those of real friendship." + +"And you, who ever since my girlhood days have been my worst enemy, ask +me now to trust you!" she exclaimed with indignation. "No; go back to +Lady Heyburn and tell her that I refuse to accept the olive-branch which +you and she hold out to me." + +"My dear girl, you don't follow me," he exclaimed impatiently. "This has +nothing whatever to do with Lady Heyburn. I have come to you from purely +personal motives. My sole desire is to effect your return to +Glencardine." + +"For your own ends, Mr. Flockart, without a doubt!" she said bitterly. + +"Ah! there you are quite mistaken. Though you assert that I am your +father's enemy, I am, I tell you, his friend. He is ever thinking of you +with regret. You were his right hand. Would it not be far better if he +invited you to return?" + +She sighed at the thought of the blind man whom she regarded with such +entire devotion, but answered, "No, I shall never return to +Glencardine." + +"Why?" he asked. "Was it anything more than natural that, believing you +had been prying into his affairs, your father, in a moment of anger, +condemned you to this life of appalling monotony?" + +"No, not more natural than that you, the culprit, should have made me +the scapegoat for the second time," was her defiant reply. + +"Have I not already told you that the reason I'm here is to crave your +forgiveness? I admit that my actions have been the reverse of +honourable; but--well, there were circumstances which compelled me to +act as I did." + +"You got an impression of my father's safe-key, had a duplicate made in +Glasgow, as I have found out, and one night opened the safe and copied +certain private documents having regard to a proposed loan to the Greek +Government. The night I discovered you was the second occasion when you +went to the library and opened the safe. Do you deny that?" + +"What you allege, Gabrielle, is perfectly correct," he replied. "I know +that I was a blackguard to shield myself behind you--to tell the lie I +did that night. But how could I avoid it?" + +"Suppose I had, in retaliation, spoken the truth?" she asked, looking +the man straight in the face. + +"Ah! I knew that you would not do that." + +"You believe that I dare not--dare not for my own sake, eh?" + +He nodded in the affirmative. + +"Then you are much mistaken, Mr. Flockart," she said in a hard voice. +"You don't understand that a woman may become desperate." + +"I can understand how desperate you have become, living in this 'Sleepy +Hollow.' A week of it would, I admit, drive me to distraction." + +"Then if you understand my present position you will know that I am +fearless of you, or of anybody else. My life has ended. I have neither +happiness, comfort, peace of mind, nor love. All is of the past. To +you--you, James Flockart--I am indebted for all this! You have held me +powerless. I was a happy girl once, but you and your dastardly friends +crossed my path like an evil shadow, and I have existed in an inferno of +remorse ever since. I----" + +"Remorse! How absurdly you talk!" + +"It will not be absurd when I speak the truth and tell the world what I +know. It will be rather a serious matter for you, Mr. Flockart." + +"You threaten me, then?" he asked, his eyes flashing for a second. + +"I think it is as well for us to understand one another at once," she +said frankly. + +They had halted upon a small bridge close to the entrance to Apethorpe +village. + +"Then I'm to understand that you refuse my proffered assistance?" he +asked. + +"I require no assistance from my enemies," was her defiant and dignified +reply. "I suppose Lady Heyburn is at the villa at San Remo as usual, and +that it was she who sent you to me, because she recognises that you've +both gone a little too far. You have. When the opportunity arises, then +I shall speak, regardless of the consequences. Therefore, Mr. Flockart, +I wish you good-evening;" and she turned away. + +"No, Gabrielle," he cried, resolutely barring her path. "You must hear +me. You don't grasp the point of my argument." + +"With me none of your arguments are of any avail," was her response in a +bitter tone. "I, alas! have reason to know you too well. For you--by +your clever intrigue--I committed a crime; but God knows I am innocent +of what was intended. Now that you have estranged me from my father and +my lover, I shall confess--confess all--before I make an end of my +life." + +He saw from her pale, drawn face that she was desperate. He grew afraid. + +"But, my dear girl, think--of what you are saying! You don't mean it; +you can't mean it. Your father has relented, and will welcome you back, +if only you will consent to return." + +"I have no wish to be regarded as the prodigal daughter," was her proud +response. + +"Not for Walter Murie's sake?" asked the crafty man. "I have seen him. I +was at the club with him last night, and we had a chat about you. He +loves you very dearly. Ah! you do not know how he is suffering." + +She was silent, and he recognised in an instant that his words had +touched the sympathetic chord in her heart. + +"He is not suffering any greater grief than I am," she said in a low, +mechanical voice, her brow heavily clouded. + +"Of course I can quite understand that," he remarked sympathetically. +"Walter is a good fellow, and--well, it is indeed sad that matters +should be as they are. He is entirely devoted to you, Gabrielle." + +"Not more so than I am to him," declared the girl quite frankly. + +"Then why did you write breaking off your engagement?" + +"He told you that?" she exclaimed in surprise. + +The truth was that Murie had told Flockart nothing. He had not even seen +him. It was only a wild guess on Flockart's part. + +"Tell me," she urged anxiously, "what did he say concerning myself?" + +Flockart hesitated. His mind was instantly active in the concoction of a +story. + +"Oh, well--he expressed the most profound regret for all that had +occurred at Glencardine, and is, of course, utterly puzzled. It appears +that just before Christmas he went home to Connachan and visited your +father several times. From him, I suppose, he heard how you had been +discovered." + +"You told him nothing?" + +"I told him nothing," declared Flockart--which was a fact. + +"Did he express a wish to see me?" she inquired. + +"Of course he did. Is he not over head and ears in love with you? He +believes you have treated him cruelly." + +"I--I know I have, Mr. Flockart," she admitted. "But I acted as any girl +of honour would have done. I was compelled to take upon myself a great +disgrace, and on doing so I released him from his promise to me." + +"Most honourable!" the man declared with a pretence of admiration, yet +underlying it all was a craftiness that surely was unsurpassed. That +visit of his to Northamptonshire was made with some ulterior motive, yet +what it was the girl was unable to discover. She would surely have been +cleverer than most people had she been able to discern the hidden, +sinister motives of James Flockart. The truth was that he had not seen +Murie, and the story of his anxiety he had only concocted on the spur of +the moment. + +"Walter asked me to give you a message," he went on. "He asked me to +urge you to return to Glencardine, and to withdraw that letter you wrote +him before your departure." + +"To return to Glencardine!" she repeated, staring into his face. "Walter +wishes me to do that! Why?" + +"Because he loves you. Because he will intercede with your father on +your behalf." + +"My father will hear nothing in my favour until--" and she paused. + +"Until what?" + +"Until I tell him the whole truth." + +"That you will never do," remarked Flockart quickly. + +"Ah! there you're mistaken," she responded. "In all probability I +shall." + +"Then, before you do so, pray weigh carefully the dire results," he +urged in a changed tone. + +"Oh, I've already done that long ago," she said. "I know that I am in +your hands, utterly and irretrievably, Mr. Flockart, and the only way I +can regain my freedom is by boldly telling the truth." + +"You must never do that! By Heaven, you shall not!" he cried, looking +fiercely into her clear eyes. + +"I know! I'm quite well aware of your attitude towards me. The claws +cannot be entirely concealed in the cat's paw, you know;" and she +laughed bitterly into his face. + +The corners of the man's mouth hardened. He was about to speak and show +himself in his true colours; but by dint of great self-control he +managed to smile and exclaim, "Then you will take no heed of these +wishes of the man who loves you so dearly, of the man who is still your +best and most devoted friend? You prefer to remain here, and wear out +your young life with vain regrets and shattered affections. Come, +Gabrielle, do be sensible." + +The girl did not speak for several moments. "Does Walter really wish me +to return?" she asked, looking straight at him, as though trying to +discern whether he was really speaking the truth. + +"Yes. He expressed to me a strong wish that you should either return to +Glencardine or go and live at Park Street." + +"He wishes to see me?" + +"Of course. It would perhaps be better if you met him first, either down +here or in London. Why should you two not be happy?" he went on. "I know +it is my fault you are consigned to this dismal life, and that you and +Walter are parted; but, believe me, Gabrielle, I am at this moment +endeavouring to bring you together again, and to reinstate you in Sir +Henry's good graces. He is longing for you to return. When I saw him +last at Glencardine he told me that Monsieur Goslin was not so clever at +typing or in grasping his meaning as you are, and he is only awaiting +your return." + +"That may be so," answered the girl in a slow, distinct voice; "but +perhaps you'll tell me, Mr. Flockart, the reason you evinced such an +unwonted curiosity in my father's affairs?" + +"My dear girl," laughed the man, "surely that isn't a fair question. I +had certain reasons of my own." + +"Yes; assisted by Lady Heyburn, you thought that you could make money by +obtaining knowledge of my father's secrets. Oh yes, I know--I know more +than you have ever imagined," declared the girl boldly. "You hope to get +rid of Monsieur Goslin from Glencardine and reinstate me--for your own +ends. I see it all." + +The man bit his lip. With chagrin he recognised that he had blundered, +and that she, shrewd and clever, had taken advantage of his error. He +was, however, too clever to exhibit his annoyance. + +"You are quite wrong in your surmise, Gabrielle," he said quickly. +"Walter Murie loves you, and loves you well. Therefore, with regret at +my compulsory denunciation of yourself, I am now endeavouring to assist +you." + +"Thank you," she responded coldly, again turning away abruptly. "I +require no assistance from a man such as yourself--a man who entrapped +me, and who denounced me in order to save himself." + +"You will regret these words," he declared, as she walked away in the +direction of Woodnewton. + +She turned upon him in fierce anger, retorting, "And perhaps you, on +your part, will regret your endeavour to entrap me a second time. I have +promised to speak the truth, and I shall keep my promise. I am not +afraid to sacrifice my own life to save my father's honour!" + +The man stood staring after her. These words of hers held him +motionless. What if she flung her good name to the winds and actually +carried out her threat? What if she really spoke the truth? Ay, what +then? + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +BETRAYS THE BOND + + +The girl hurried on, her heart filled with wonder, her eyes brimming +with tears of indignation. The one thought occupying her whole mind was +whether Walter really wished to see her again. Had Flockart spoken the +truth? The serious face of the man she loved so well rose before her +blurred vision. She had been his--his very own--until she had sent off +that fateful letter. + +In five minutes Flockart had again overtaken her. His attitude was +appealing. He urged her to at least see her lover again even if she +refused to write or return to her father. + +"Why do you come here to taunt me like this?" she cried, turning upon +him angrily. "Once, because you were my mother's friend, I believed in +you. But you deceived me, and in consequence you hold me in your power. +Were it not for that I could have spoken to my father--have told him the +truth and cleared myself. He now believes that I have betrayed his +business secrets, while at the same time he considers you to be his +friend!" + +"I am his friend, Gabrielle," the man declared. + +"Why tell me such a lie?" she asked reproachfully. "Do you think I too +am blind?" + +"Certainly not. I give you credit for being quite as clever and as +intelligent as you are dainty and charming. I----" + +"Thank you!" she cried in indignation. "I require no compliments from +you." + +"Lady Heyburn has expressed a wish to see you," he said. "She is still +in San Remo, and asked me to invite you to go down there for a few +weeks. Your aunt has written her, I think, complaining that you are not +very comfortable at Woodnewton." + +"I have not complained. Why should Aunt Emily complain of me? You seem +to be the bearer of messages from the whole of my family, Mr. Flockart." + +"I am here entirely in your own interests, my dear child," he declared +with that patronising air which so irritated her. + +"Not entirely, I think," she said, smiling bitterly. + +"I tell you, I much regret all that has happened, and----" + +"You regret!" she cried fiercely. "Do you regret the end of that +woman--you know whom I mean?" + +Beneath her straight glance he quivered. She had referred to a subject +which he fain would have buried for ever. This dainty neat-waisted girl +knew a terrible secret. Was it not only too true, as Lady Heyburn had +vaguely suggested a dozen times, that her mouth ought to be effectually +sealed? + +He had sealed it once, as he thought. Her fear to explain to her father +the incident of the opening of the safe had given him confidence that no +word of the truth regarding the past would ever pass her lips. Yet he +saw that his own machinations were now likely to prove his undoing. The +web which, with her ladyship's assistance, he had woven about her was +now stretched to breaking-point. If it did yield, then the result must +be ruin--and worse. Therefore, he was straining every effort to again +reinstate her in her father's good graces and restore in her mind +something akin to confidence. But all his arguments, as he walked on at +her side in the gathering gloom, proved useless. She was in no mood to +listen to the man who had been her evil genius ever since her +school-days. As he was speaking she was wondering if she dared go to +Walter Murie and tell him everything. What would her lover think of her? +What indeed? He would only cast her aside as worthless. No. Far better +that he should remain in ignorance and retain only sad memories of their +brief happiness. + +"I am going to Glencardine to-night," Flockart went on. "I shall join +the mail at Peterborough. What shall I tell your father?" + +"Tell him the truth," was her reply. "That, I know, you will not do. So +why need we waste further words?" + +"Do you actually refuse, then, to leave this dismal hole?" he demanded +impatiently. + +"Yes, until I speak, and tell my father the plain and ghastly story." + +"Rubbish!" he ejaculated. "You'll never do that--unless you wish to +stand beside me in a criminal dock." + +"Well, rather that than be your cat's-paw longer, Mr. Flockart!" she +cried, her face flushing with indignation. + +"Oh, oh!" he laughed, still quite imperturbed. "Come, come! This is +scarcely a wise reply, my dear little girl!" + +"I wish you to leave me. You have insulted my intelligence enough this +evening, surely--you, who only a moment ago declared yourself my +friend!" + +Slowly he selected a cigarette from his gold case, and, halting, lit it. +"Well, if you meet my well-meant efforts on your behalf with open +antagonism like this I can't make any further suggestion." + +"No, please don't. Go up to Glencardine and do your worst for me. I am +now fully able to take care of myself," she exclaimed in defiance. "You +can also write to Lady Heyburn, and tell her that I am still, and that I +always will remain, my blind father's friend." + +"But why don't you listen to reason, Gabrielle?" he implored her. "I +don't now seek to lessen or deny the wrongs I have done you in the past, +nor do I attempt to conceal from you my own position. My only object is +to bring you and Walter together again. Her ladyship knows the whole +circumstances, and deeply regrets them." + +"Her regret will be the more poignant some day, I assure you." + +"Then you really intend to act vindictively?" + +"I shall act just as I think proper," she exclaimed, halting a moment +and facing him. "Please understand that though I have been forced in the +past to act as you have indicated, because I feared you--because I had +my reputation and my father's honour at stake--I hold you in terror no +longer, Mr. Flockart." + +"Well, I'm glad you've told me that," he said, laughing as though he +treated her declaration with humour. "It's just as well, perhaps, that +we should now thoroughly understand each other. Yet if I were you I +wouldn't do anything rash. By telling the truth you'd be the only +sufferer, you know." + +"The only sufferer! Why?" + +"Well, you don't imagine I should be such a fool as to admit that what +you said was true, do you?" + +She looked at him in surprise. It had never occurred to her that he, +with his innate unscrupulousness and cunning, might deny her +allegations, and might even be able to prove them false. + +"The truth could not be denied," she said simply. "Recollect the cutting +from the Edinburgh paper." + +"Truth is denied every day in courts of law," he retorted. "No. Before +you act foolishly, remember that, put to the test, your word would stand +alone against mine and those of other people. + +"Why, the very story you would tell would be so utterly amazing and +startling that the world would declare you had invented it. Reflect upon +it for a moment, and you'll find, my dear girl, that silence is golden +in this, as in any other circumstance in life." + +She raised her eyes to his, and met his gaze firmly. "So you defy me to +speak?" she cried. "You think that I will still remain in this accursed +bondage of yours?" + +"I utter no threats, my dear child," replied Flockart. "I have never in +my life threatened you. I merely venture to point out certain +difficulties which you might have in substantiating any allegation which +you might make against me. For that reason, if for none other, is it not +better for us to be friends?" + +"I am not the friend of my father's enemy!" she declared. + +"You are quite heroic," he declared with a covert sneer. "If you really +are bent upon providing the halfpenny newspapers with a fresh sensation, +pray let me know in plenty of time, won't you?" + +"I've had sufficient of your taunts," cried the girl, bursting into a +flood of hot tears. "Leave me. I--I'll say no further word to you." + +"Except to forgive me," He added. + +"Why should I?" she asked through her tears. + +"Because, for your own sake--for the sake of your future--it will surely +be best," he pointed out. "You, no doubt, in ignorance of legal +procedure, believed that what you alleged would be accepted in a court +of justice. But reflect fully before you again threaten me. Dry your +eyes, or your aunt may suspect something wrong." + +She did not reply. What he said impressed her, and he did not fail to +recognise that fact. He smiled within himself when he saw that he had +triumphed. Yet he had not gained his point. + +She had dashed away her tears with the little wisp of lace, annoyed with +herself at betraying her indignation in that womanly way. She knew him, +alas! too well. She mistrusted him, for she was well aware of how +cleverly he had once conspired with Lady Heyburn, and with what +ingenuity she herself had been drawn into the disgraceful and amazing +affair. + +True it was that her story, if told in a criminal court, would prove so +extraordinary that it would not be believed; true also that he would, of +course, deny it, and that his denial would be borne out by the woman +who, though her father's wife, was his worst enemy. + +The man placed his hand on her shoulder, saying, "May we not be friends, +Gabrielle?" + +She shook him off roughly, responding in the negative. + +"But we are not enemies--I mean we will not be enemies as we have been, +shall we?" he urged. + +To this she made no reply. She only quickened her pace, for the twilight +was fast deepening, and she wished to be back again at her aunt's house. + +Why had that man followed her? Why, indeed, had he troubled to come +there? She could not discern his motive. + +They walked together in silence. He was watching her face, reading it +like a book. + +Then, when they neared the first thatched cottage at the entrance to the +village, he halted, asking, "May we not now become friends, Gabrielle? +Will you not listen, and take my advice? Or will you still remain buried +here?" + +"I have nothing further to say, Mr. Flockart, than what I have already +said," was her defiant response. "I shall act as I think best." + +"And you will dare to speak, and place yourself in a ridiculous +position, you mean?" + +"I shall use my own judgment in defending my father from his enemies," +was her cold response as, with a slight shrug of her shoulders, she +turned and left him, hurrying forward in the darkening twilight along +the village street to her aunt's home. + +He, on his part, turned upon his heel with a muttered remark and set out +again to walk towards Nassington Station, whence, after nearly an hour's +wait in the village inn, he took train to Peterborough. + +The girl had once again defied him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE WHISPERS AGAIN + + +Was it really true what Flockart had told her? Did Walter actually wish +to see her again? At one moment she believed in her lover's strong, +passionate devotion to her, for had she not seen it displayed in a +hundred different ways? But the next she recollected how that man +Flockart had taken advantage of her youth and inexperience in the past, +how he had often lied so circumstantially that she had believed his +words to be the truth. Once, indeed, he had openly declared to her that +one of his maxims was never to tell the truth unless obliged. After +dinner, a simple meal served in the poky little dining-room, she made an +excuse to go to her room, and there sat for a long time, deeply +reflecting. Should she write to Walter? Would it be judicious to explain +Flockart's visit, and how he had urged their reconciliation? If she +wrote, would it lower her dignity in her lover's eyes? That was the +great problem which now troubled her. She sat staring before her +undecided. She recalled all that Flockart had told her. He was the +emissary of Lady Heyburn without a doubt. The girl had told him openly +of her decision to speak the truth and expose him, but he had only +laughed at her. Alas! she knew his true character, unscrupulous and +pitiless. But she placed him aside. + +Recollection of Walter--the man who had held her so often in his arms +and pressed his hot lips to hers, the man who was her father's firm +friend and whose uprightness and honesty of purpose she had ever +admired--crowded upon her. Should she write to him? Rigid and staring, +she sat in her chair, her little white hands clenched, as she tried to +summon courage. It had been she who had written declaring that their +secret engagement must be broken, she who had condemned herself. +Therefore, had she not a right to satisfy that longing she had had +through months, the longing to write to him once again. The thought +decided her; and, going to the table whereon the lamp was burning, she +sat down, and after some reflection, penned a letter as follows:-- + +"MY SWEETHEART, MY DARLING, MY OWN, MY SOUL--MINE--ONLY MINE,--I am +wondering how and where you are! True, I wrote you a cruel letter; but +it was imperative, and under the force of circumstance. I am full of +regrets, and I only wish with all my heart that I might kiss you once +again, and press you in my arms as I used to do. + +"But how are you? I have had you before my eyes to-night, and I feel +quite sure that at this very moment you are thinking of me. You must +know that I love you dearly. You gave me your heart, and it shall not +belong to any other. I have tried to be brave and courageous; but, alas! +I have failed. I love you, my darling, and I must see you soon--very +soon. + +"Mr. Flockart came to see me to-day and says that you expressed to him a +desire to meet me again. Gratify that desire when you will, and you will +find your Gabrielle just the same--longing ever to see you, living with +only the memories of your dear face. + +"Can you doubt of my great, great love for you? You never wrote in reply +to my letter, though I have waited for months. I know my letter was a +cruel one, and to you quite unwarranted; but I had a reason for writing +it, and the reason was because I felt that I ought not to deceive you +any longer. + +"You see, darling, I am frank and open. Yes, I have deceived you. I am +terribly ashamed and downhearted. I have tried to conceal my grief, even +from you; but it is impossible. I love you as much as I ever loved you, +and I swear to you that I have never once wavered. + +"Grim circumstance forced me to write to you as I did. Forgive me, I beg +of you. If it is true what Mr. Flockart says, then send me a telegram, +and come here to see me. If it be false, then I shall know by your +silence. + +"I love you, my own, my well-beloved! _Au revoir_, my dearest heart. I +look at your photograph which to-night smiles at me. Yes, you love me! + +"With many fond and sweet kisses like those I gave you in the +well-remembered days of our happiness. + +"My love--My king!" + +She read the letter carefully through, placed it in an envelope, and, +marking it private, addressed it to Walter's chambers in the Temple, +whence she knew it must be forwarded if he were away. Then, putting on +her tam o' shanter, she went out to the village grocer's, where she +posted it, so that it left by the early morning mail. When would his +welcome telegram arrive? She calculated that he would get the letter by +mid-day, and by one o'clock she could receive his reply--his reassurance +of love. + +So she went to her bed, with its white dimity hangings, more calm and +composed than for months before. For a long time she lay awake, thinking +of him, listening hour by hour to the chiming bells of the old Norman +church. They marked the passing of the night. Then she dropped off to +sleep, to be awakened by the sun streaming into the room. + +That same morning, away up in the Highlands at Glencardine, Sir Henry +had groped his way across the library to his accustomed chair, and Hill +had placed before him one of the shallow drawers of the cabinet of +seal-impressions. + +There were fully half a dozen which had been sent to him by the curator +of the museum at Norwich, sulphur-casts of seals recently acquired by +that institution. + +The blind man had put aside that morning to examine them, and settled +himself to his task with the keen and pleasurable anticipation of the +expert. + +They were very fine specimens. The blind man, sitting alone, selected +one, and, fingering it very carefully for a long time, at last made out +its design and the inscription upon it. + +"The seal of Abbot Simon de Luton, of the early thirteenth century," he +said slowly to himself. "The wolf guards the head of St. Edmund as it +does in the seal of the Benedictine Abbey of Bury St. Edmunds, while the +Virgin with the Child is over the canopy. And the verse is indeed +curious for its quaintness:" + ++ VIRGO . DEUM . FERT . DUX . CAPUD . AUFERT . QUOD . LUPUS . HIC . FERT + + +Then he again retraced the letters with his sensitive fingers to +reassure himself that he had made no mistake. + +The next he drew towards him proved to be the seal of the Vice-Warden of +the Grey Friars of Cambridge, a pointed one used about the year 1244, +which to himself he declared, in heraldic language, to bear the device +of "a cross raguly debruised by a spear, and a crown of thorns in bend +dexter, and a sponge on a staff in bend sinister, between two threefold +_flagella_ in base"--surely a formidable array of the instruments used +in the Passion. + +Deeply interested, and speaking to himself aloud, as was his habit when +alone, he examined them one after the other. Among the collection were +the seals of Berengar de Brolis, Plebanus of Pacina (in Syracuse), and +those of the Commune of Beauvais (1228); Mathilde (or Mahaut), daughter +of Henri Duke of Brabant (1265); the town of Oudenbourg in West +Flanders, and of the Vicar-Provincial of the Carmelite Order at Palermo +(1350); Jacobus de Gnapet, Bishop of Rennes (1480); and of Bondi Marquis +of Sasolini of Bologna (1323). + +He had almost concluded when Goslin, the grey-bearded Frenchman, having +breakfasted alone in the dining-room, entered. "Ah, _mon cher_ Sir +Henry!" he exclaimed, "at work so early! The study of seals must be very +fascinating to you, though I confess that, for myself, I could never see +in them very much to interest one." + +"No. To the ordinary person, my dear Goslin, it appears no doubt, a most +dryasdust study, but to a man afflicted like myself it is the only study +that he can pursue, for with his finger tips he can learn the devices +and decipher the inscriptions," the blind Baronet declared. "Take, for +instance, only this little collection of a dozen or so impressions which +they have so kindly sent to me from Norwich. Each one of them tells me +something. Its device, its general character, its heraldry, its +inscription, are all highly instructive. For the collector there are +opportunities for the study of the historical allusions, the +emblematology and imagery, the hagiology, the biographical and +topographical episodes, and the other peculiarities and idiosyncrasies +in all the seals he possesses." + +Goslin, like most other people, had been many times bored by the old +man's technical discourses upon his hobby. But he never showed it. He, +just the same as other people, made pretence of being interested. "Yes," +he remarked, "they must be most instructive to the student. I recollect +seeing a great quantity in the Bargello at Florence." + +"Ah, a very fine collection--part of the Medici collection, and contains +some of the finest Italian and Spanish specimens," remarked the blind +connoisseur. "Birch of the British Museum is quite right in declaring +that the seal, portable and abounding in detail, not difficult of +acquisition nor hard to read if we set about deciphering the story it +has to tell, takes us back as we look upon it to the very time of its +making, and sets us, as it were, face to face with the actual owners of +the relic." + +The Frenchman sighed. He saw he was in for a long dissertation; and, +moving uneasily towards the window, changed the topic of conversation by +saying, "I had a long letter from Paris this morning. Krail is back +again, it appears." + +"Ah, that man!" cried the other impatiently. "When will his +extraordinary energies be suppressed? They are watching him carefully, I +suppose." + +"Of course," replied the Frenchman. "He left Paris about a month ago, +but unfortunately the men watching him did not follow. He took train for +Berlin, and has been absent until now." + +"We ought to know where he's been, Goslin," declared the elder man. +"What fool was it who, keeping him under surveillance, allowed him to +slip from Paris?" + +"The Russian Tchernine." + +"I thought him a clever fellow, but it seems that he's a bungler after +all." + +"But while we keep Krail at arm's length, as we are doing, what have we +to fear?" asked Goslin. + +"Yes, but how long can we keep him at arm's length?" queried Sir Henry. +"You know the kind of man--one of the most extraordinarily inventive in +Europe. No secret is safe from him. Do you know, Goslin," he added, in a +changed voice, "I live nowadays somehow in constant apprehension." + +"You've never possessed the same self-confidence since you found +Mademoiselle Gabrielle with the safe open," he remarked. + +"No. Murie, or some other man she knows, must have induced her to do +that, and take copies of those documents. Fortunately, I suspected an +attempt, and baited the trap accordingly." + +"What caused you to suspect?" + +"Because more than once both Murie and the girl seemed to be seized by +an unusual desire to pry into my business." + +"You don't think that our friend Flockart had anything to do with the +affair?" the Frenchman suggested. + +"No, no. Not in the least. I know Flockart too well," declared the old +man. "Once I looked upon him as my enemy, but I have now come to the +conclusion that he is a friend--a very good friend." + +The Frenchman pulled a rather wry face, and remained silent. + +"I know," Sir Henry went on, "I know quite well that his constant +association with my wife has caused a good deal of gossip; but I have +dismissed it all with the contempt that such attempted scandal deserves. +It has been put about by a pack of women who are jealous of my wife's +good looks and her _chic_ in dress." + +"Are not Flockart and mademoiselle also good friends?" inquired Goslin. + +"No. I happen to know that they are not, and that very fact in itself +shows me that Gabrielle, in trying to get at the secret of my business, +was not aided by Flockart, for it was he who exposed her." + +"Yes," remarked the Frenchman, "so you've told me before. Have you heard +from mademoiselle lately?" + +"Only twice since she has left here," was the old man's bitter reply, +"and that was twice too frequently. I've done with her, Goslin--done +with her entirely. Never in all my life did I receive such a crushing +blow as when I found that she, in whom I reposed the utmost confidence, +had played her own father false, and might have ruined him!" + +"Yes," remarked the other sympathetically, "it was a great blow to you, +I know. But will you not forgive mademoiselle?" + +"Forgive her!" he cried fiercely, "forgive her! Never!" + +The grey-bearded Frenchman, who had always been a great favourite with +Gabrielle, sighed slightly, and gave his shoulders a shrug of regret. + +"Why do you ask that?" inquired Sir Henry, "when she herself admitted +that she had been at the safe?" + +"Because----" and the other hesitated. "Well, for several reasons. The +story of your quarrel with mademoiselle has leaked out." + +"The Whispers--eh, Goslin?" laughed the old man in defiance. "Let the +people believe what they will. My daughter shall never return to +Glencardine--never!" + +As he had been speaking the door had opened, and James Flockart stood +upon the threshold. He had overheard the blind man's words, and as he +came forward he smiled, more in satisfaction than in greeting. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +CONTAINS A FURTHER MYSTERY + + +"My dear Edgar, when I met you in the Devonshire Club last night I could +scarcely believe my own eyes. Fancy you turning up again!" + +"Yes, strange, isn't it, how two men may drift apart for years, and then +suddenly meet in a club, as we have done, Murie?" + +"Being with those fellows who were anxious to go along and see the show +at the Empire last night, I had no opportunity of having a chat with +you, my dear old chap. That's why I asked you to look in." + +The two men were seated in Walter's dingy chambers on the second floor +in Fig-Tree Court, Temple. The room was an old and rather frowsy one, +with shabby leather furniture from which the stuffing protruded, +panelled walls, a carpet almost threadbare, and a formidable array of +calf-bound volumes in the cases lining one wall. The place was heavy +with tobacco-smoke as the pair, reclining in easy-chairs, were in the +full enjoyment of very excellent cigars. + +Walter's visitor was a tall, dark man, some six or seven years his +senior, a rather spare, lantern-jawed young fellow, whose dark-grey +clothes were of unmistakable foreign cut; and whose moustache was +carefully trained to an upward trend. No second glance was required to +decide that Edgar Hamilton was a person who, having lived a long time on +the Continent, had acquired the cosmopolitan manner both in gesture and +in dress. + +"Well," exclaimed Murie at last, blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips, +"since we parted at Oxford I've been called to the Bar, as you see. As +for practice--well, I haven't any. The gov'nor wants me to go in for +politics, so I'm trying to please him by getting my hand in. I make an +odd speech or two sometimes in out-of-the-world villages, and I hope, +one day, to find myself the adopted candidate for some borough or other. +Last year I was sent round the world by my fond parents in order to +obtain a broader view of life. Is it not Tacitus who says, '_Sua cuique +vita obscura est_'?" + +"Yes, my dear fellow," replied Hamilton, stretching himself lazily in +his chair. "And surely we can say with Martial, '_Non est vivere, sed +valere vita_'--I am well, therefore I am alive! Mine has been a rather +curious career up to the present. I only once heard of you after +Oxford--through Arthur Price, who was, you'll remember, at Balliol. He +wrote that he'd spoken one night to you when at supper at the Savoy. You +had a bevy of beauties with you, he said." + +Both men laughed. In the old days, Edgar Hamilton had been essentially a +ladies' man; but, since they had parted one evening on the +station-platform at Oxford, Hamilton had gone up to town and completely +out of the life of Walter Murie. They had not met until the previous +evening, when Walter, having dined at the Devonshire--that comfortable +old-world club in St. James's Street which was the famous Crockford's +gaming-house in the days of the dandies--he had met his old friend in +the strangers' smoking-room, the guest of a City stockbroker who was +entertaining a party. A hurried greeting of surprise, and an invitation +to call in at the Temple resulted in that meeting on that grey +afternoon. + +Six years had gone since they had parted; and, judging from Edgar's +exterior, he had been pretty prosperous. + +Walter was laughing and commenting upon it when his friend, removing his +cigar from his lips, said, "My dear fellow, my success has been entirely +due to one incident which is quite romantic. In fact, if anybody wrote +it in a book people would declare it to be fiction." + +"That's interesting! Tell me all about it. My own life has been humdrum +enough in all conscience. As a budding politician, I have to browse upon +blue-books and chew statistics." + +"And mine has been one of travel, adventure, and considerable +excitement," declared Hamilton. "Six months after I left Oxford I found +myself out in Transcaucasia as a newspaper correspondent. As you know, I +often wrote articles for some of the more precious papers when at +college. Well, one of them sent me out to travel through the disturbed +Kurdish districts. I had a tough time from the start. I was out with a +Cossack party in Thai Aras valley, east of Erivan, for six months, and +wrote lots of articles which created a good deal of sensation here in +England. You may have seen them, but they were anonymous. The life of +excitement, sometimes fighting and at others in ambush in the mountains, +suited me admirably, for I'm a born adventurer, I believe. One day, +however, a strange thing happened. I was riding along alone through one +of the mountain passes towards the Caspian when I discovered three wild, +fierce-looking Kurds maltreating a girl, believing her to be a Russian. +I called upon them to release her, for she was little more than a child; +and, as they did not, I shot two of the men. The third shot and plugged +me rather badly in the leg; but I had the satisfaction that my shots +attracted my Cossack companions, who, coming quickly on the spot, killed +all three of the girl's assailants, and released her." + +"By Jove!" laughed Murie. "Was she pretty?" + +"Not extraordinarily--a fair-haired girl of about fifteen, dressed in +European clothes. I fainted from loss of blood, and don't remember +anything else until I found myself in a tent, with two Cossacks patching +up my wound. When I came to, she rushed forward, and thanked me +profusely for saving her. To my surprise, she spoke in French, and on +inquiry I found that she was the daughter of a certain Baron Conrad de +Hetzendorf, an Austrian, who possessed a house in Budapest and a château +at Semlin, in South Hungary. She told us a curious story. Her father had +some business in Transcaucasia, and she had induced him to take her with +him on his journey. Only certain districts of the country were +disturbed; and apparently, with their guide and escort, they had +unwittingly entered the Aras region--one of the most lawless of them +all--in ignorance of what was in progress. She and her father, +accompanied by a guide and four Cossacks, had been riding along when +they met a party of Kurds, who had attacked them. Both father and +daughter had been seized, whereupon she had lost consciousness from +fright, and when she came to again found that the four Cossacks had been +killed, her father had been taken off, and she was alone in the brutal +hands of those three wild-looking tribesmen. As soon as she had told us +this, the officer of the Cossacks to which I had attached myself called +the men together, and in a quarter of an hour the whole body went forth +to chase the Kurds and rescue the Baron. One big Cossack, in his long +coat and astrakhan cap, was left to look after me, while Nicosia--that +was the girl's name--was also left to assist him. After three days they +returned, bringing with them the Baron, whose delight at finding his +daughter safe and unharmed was unbounded. They had fought the Kurds and +defeated them, killing nearly twenty. Ah, my dear Murie, you haven't any +notion of the lawless state of that country just then! And I fear it is +pretty much the same now." + +"Well, go on," urged his friend. "What about the girl? I suppose you +fell in love with her, and all that, eh?" + +"No, you're mistaken there, old chap," was his reply. "When she +explained to her father what had happened, the Baron thanked me very +warmly, and invited me to visit him in Budapest when my leg grew strong +again. He was a man of about fifty, who, I found, spoke English very +well. Nicosia also spoke English, for she had explained to me that her +mother, now dead, had been a Londoner. The Baron's business in +Transcaucasia was, he told me vaguely, in connection with the survey of +a new railway which the Russian Government was projecting eastward from +Erivan. For two days he remained with us; but during those days my wound +was extremely painful owing to lack of surgical appliances, so we spoke +of very little else besides the horrible atrocities committed by the +Kurds. He pressed me to visit him; and then, with an escort of our +Cossacks, he and his daughter left for Tiflis; whence he took train back +to Hungary. + +"For six months I remained, still leading that roving, adventurous life. +My leg was well again, but my journalistic commission was at an end, and +one day I found myself in Odessa, very short of funds. I recollected the +Baron's invitation to Budapest, therefore I took train there, and found +his residence to be one of those great white houses on the Franz Josef +Quay. He received me with marked enthusiasm, and compelled me to be his +guest. During the first week I was there I told him, in confidence, my +position, whereupon he offered me a very lucrative post as his +secretary, a post which I have retained until this moment." + +"And the girl?" Walter asked, much interested. + +"Oh, she finished her education in Dresden and in Paris, and now lives +mostly with her aunt in Vienna," was Hamilton's response. "Quite +recently she's become engaged to young Count de Solwegen, the son of one +of the wealthiest men in Austria." + +"I thought you'd probably become the happy lover." + +"Lover!" cried his friend. "How could a poor devil like myself ever +aspire to the hand of the daughter of the Baron de Hetzendorf? The name +doesn't convey much to you, I suppose?" + +"No, I don't take much interest in unknown foreigners, I confess," +replied Walter, with a smile. + +"Ah, you're not a cosmopolitan nor a financier, or you would know the +thousand-and-one strings which are pulled by Conrad de Hetzendorf, or +the curious stories afloat concerning him." + +"Curious stories!" echoed Murie. "Tell me some. I'm always interested in +anything mysterious." + +Hamilton was silent for a few moments. + +"Well, old chap, to tell you the truth, even though I've got such a +comfortable and lucrative post, I'm, even after these years, +considerably mystified." + +"How?" + +"By the real nature of the Baron's business." + +"Oh, he's a mysterious person, is he?" + +"Very. Though I'm his confidential secretary, and deal with his affairs +in his absence, yet in some matters he is remarkably close, as though he +fears me." + +"You live always in Budapest, I suppose?" + +"No. In summer we are at the country house, a big place overlooking the +Danube outside Semlin, and commanding a wide view of the great Hungarian +plain." + +"The Baron transacts his business there, eh?" + +"From there or from Budapest. His business is solely with an office in +the Boulevard des Capucines in Paris, and a registered telegraphic +address also in Paris." + +"Well, there's nothing very mysterious in that, surely. Some business +matters must, of necessity, be conducted with secrecy." + +"I know all that, my dear fellow, but--" and he hesitated, as though +fearing to take his friend into his confidence. + +"But what?" + +"Well--but there, no! You'd laugh at me if I told you the real reason of +my uneasiness." + +"I certainly won't, my dear Hamilton," Murie assured him. "We are +friends to-day, dear old chap, just as we were at college. Surely it is +not the place of a man to poke fun at his friend?" + +The argument was apparently convincing. The Baron's secretary smoked on +in thoughtful silence, his eyes fixed upon the wall in front of him. + +"Well," he said at last, "if you promise to view the matter in all +seriousness, I'll tell you. Briefly, it's this. Of course, you've never +been to Semlin--or Zimony, as they call it in the Magyar tongue. To +understand aright, I must describe the place. In the extreme south of +Hungary, where the river Save joins the Danube, the town of Semlin +guards the frontier. Upon a steep hill, five kilometres from the town, +stands the Baron's residence, a long, rather inartistic white building, +which, however, is very luxuriously furnished. Comparatively modern, it +stands near the ruins of a great old castle of Hetzendorf, which +commands a wide sweep of the Danube. Now, amid those ruins strange +noises are sometimes heard, and it is said that upon all who hear them +falls some terrible calamity. I'm not superstitious, but I've heard +them--on three occasions! And somehow--well, somehow--I cannot get rid +of an uncanny feeling that some catastrophe is to befall me! I can't go +back to Semlin. I'm unnerved, and dare not return there." + +"Noises!" cried Walter Murie. "What are they like?" he asked quickly, +starting from his chair, and staring at his friend. + +"They seem to emanate from nowhere, and are like deep but distant +whispers. So plain they were that I could have sworn that some one was +speaking, and in English, too!" + +"Does the baron know?" + +"Yes, I told him, and he appeared greatly alarmed. Indeed, he gave me +leave of absence to come home to England." + +"Well," exclaimed Murie, "what you tell me, old chap, is most +extraordinary! Why, there is almost an exactly similar legend connected +with Glencardine!" + +"Glencardine!" cried his friend. "Glencardine Castle, in Scotland! I've +heard of that. Do you know the place?" + +"The estate marches with my father's, therefore I know it well. How +extraordinary that there should be almost exactly the same legend +concerning a Hungarian castle!" + +"Who is the owner of Glencardine?" + +"Sir Henry Heyburn, a friend of mine." + +"Heyburn!" echoed Hamilton. "Heyburn the blind man?" he gasped, grasping +the arm of his chair and staring back at his companion. "And he is your +friend? You know his daughter, then?" + +"Yes, I know Gabrielle," was Walter's reply, as there flashed across him +the recollection of that passionate letter to which he had not replied. +"Why?" + +"Is she also your friend?" + +"She certainly is." + +Hamilton was silent. He saw that he was treading dangerous ground. The +legend of Glencardine was the same as that of the old Magyar stronghold +of Hetzendorf. Gabrielle Heyburn was Murie's friend. Therefore he +resolved to say no more. + +Gabrielle Heyburn! + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +REVEALS SOMETHING TO HAMILTON + + +Edgar Hamilton sat with his eyes fixed upon the dingy, inartistic, +smoke-begrimed windows of the chambers opposite. The man before him was +acquainted with Gabrielle Heyburn! For over a year he had not been in +London. He recollected the last occasion--recollected it, alas! only too +well. His thin countenance wore a puzzled, anxious expression, the +expression of a man face to face with a great difficulty. + +"Tell me, Walter," he said at last, "what kind of place is Glencardine +Castle? What kind of man is Sir Henry Heyburn?" + +"Glencardine is one of the most beautiful estates in Scotland. It lies +between Perth and Stirling. The ruins of the ancient castle, where the +great Marquis of Glencardine, who was such a figure in Scottish history, +was born, stands perched up above a deep, delightful glen; and some +little distance off stands the modern house, built in great part from +the ruins of the stronghold." + +"And there are noises heard there the same as at Hetzendorf, you say?" + +"Well, the countryfolk believe that, on certain nights, there can be +heard in the castle courtyard distinct whispering--the counsel of the +devil himself to certain conspirators who took the life of the notorious +Cardinal Setoun." + +"Has any one actually heard them?" + +"They say so--or, at any rate, several persons after declaring that they +had heard them have died quite suddenly." + +Hamilton pursed his lips. "Well," he exclaimed, "that's really most +remarkable! Practically, the same legend is current in South Hungary +regarding Hetzendorf. Strange--very strange!" + +"Very," remarked the heir to the great estate of Connachan. "But, after +all, cannot one very often trace the same legend through the folklore of +various countries? I remember I once attended a lecture upon that very +interesting subject." + +"Oh, of course. Many ancient legends have sprung from the same germ, so +that often we have practically the same fairy-story all over Europe. But +this, it seems to me, is no fairy story." + +"Well," laughed Murie, "the history of Glencardine Castle and the +historic family is so full of stirring episodes that I really don't +wonder that the ruins are believed to be the abode of something +supernatural. My father possesses some of the family papers, while Sir +Henry, when he bought Glencardine, also acquired a quantity. Only a year +ago he told me that he had had an application from a well-known +historical writer for access to them, as he was about to write a book +upon the family." + +"Then you know Sir Henry well?" + +"Very well indeed. I'm often his guest, and frequently shoot over the +place." + +"I've heard that Lady Heyburn is a very pretty woman," remarked the +other, glancing at his friend with a peculiar look. + +"Some declare her to be beautiful; but to myself, I confess, she's not +very attractive." + +"There are stories about her, eh?" Hamilton said. + +"As there are about every good-looking woman. Beauty cannot escape +unjust criticism or the scars of lying tongues." + +"People pity Sir Henry, I've heard." + +"They, of course, sympathise with him, poor old gentleman, because he's +blind. His is, indeed, a terrible affliction. Only fancy the change from +a brilliant Parliamentary career to idleness, darkness, and knitting." + +"I suppose he's very wealthy?" + +"He must be. The price he paid for Glencardine was a very heavy one; +and, besides that, he has two other places, as well as a house in Park +Street and a villa at San Remo." + +"Cotton, or steel, or soap, or some other domestic necessity, I +suppose?" + +Murie shrugged his shoulders. "Nobody knows," he answered. "The source +of Sir Henry's vast wealth is a profound mystery." + +His friend smiled, but said nothing. Walter Murie had risen to obtain +matches, therefore he did not notice the curious expression upon his +friend's face, a look which betrayed that he knew more than he intended +to tell. + +"Those noises heard in the castle puzzle me," he remarked after a few +moments. + +"At Glencardine they are known as the Whispers," Murie remarked. + +"By Jove! I'd like to hear them." + +"I don't think there'd be much chance of that, old chap," laughed the +other. "They're only heard by those doomed to an early death." + +"I may be. Who knows?" he asked gloomily. + +"Well, if I were you I wouldn't anticipate catastrophe." + +"No," said his friend in a more serious tone, "I've already heard those +at Hetzendorf, and--well, I confess they've aroused in my mind some very +uncanny apprehensions." + +"But did you really hear them? Are you sure they were not imagination? +In the night sounds always become both magnified and distorted." + +"Yes, I'm certain of what I heard. I was careful to convince myself that +it was not imagination, but actual reality." + +Walter Murie smiled dubiously. "Sir Henry scouts the idea of the +Whispers being heard at Glencardine," he said. + +"And, strangely enough, so does the Baron. He's a most matter-of-fact +man." + +"How curious that the cases are almost parallel, and yet so far apart! +The Baron has a daughter, and so has Sir Henry." + +"Gabrielle is at Glencardine, I suppose?" asked Hamilton. + +"No, she's living with a maiden aunt at an out-of-the-world village in +Northamptonshire called Woodnewton." + +"Oh, I thought she always lived at Glencardine, and acted as her +father's right hand." + +"She did until a few months ago, when----" and he paused. "Well," he +went on, "I don't know exactly what occurred, except that she left +suddenly, and has not since returned." + +"Her mother, perhaps. No girl of spirit gets on well with her +stepmother." + +"Possibly that," Walter said. He knew the truth, but had no desire to +tell even his old friend of the allegation against the girl whom he +loved. + +Hamilton noted the name of the village, and sat wondering at what the +young barrister had just told him. It had aroused suspicions within +him--strange suspicions. + +They sat together for another half-hour, and before they parted arranged +to lunch together at the Savoy in two days' time. + +Turning out of the Temple, Edgar Hamilton walked along the Strand to the +Metropole, in Northumberland Avenue, where he was staying. His mind was +full of what his friend had said--full of that curious legend of +Glencardine which coincided so strangely with that of far-off +Hetzendorf. The jostling crowd in the busy London thoroughfare he did +not see. He was away again on the hill outside the old-fashioned +Hungarian town, with the broad Danube shining in the white moonbeams. He +saw the grim walls that had for centuries withstood the brunt of battle +with the Turks, and from them came the whispering voice--the voice said +to be that of the Evil One. The Tziganes--that brown-faced race of gipsy +wanderers, the women with their bright-coloured skirts and head-dresses, +and the men with the wonderful old silver filigree buttons upon their +coats---had related to him many weird stories regarding Hetzendorf and +the meaning of those whispers. Yet none of their stories was so curious +as that which Murie had just told him. Similar sounds were actually +heard in the old castle up in the Highlands! His thoughts were wholly +absorbed in that one extraordinary fact. + +He went to the smoking-room of the hotel, and, obtaining a +railway-guide, searched it in vain. Then, ordering from a waiter a map +of England, he eagerly searched Northamptonshire and discovered the +whereabouts of Woodnewton. Therefore, that night he left London for +Oundle, and put up at the old-fashioned "Talbot." + +At ten o'clock on the following morning, after making a detour, he +alighted from a dogcart before the little inn called the Westmorland +Arms at Apethorpe, just outside the lodge-gates of Apethorpe Hall, and +making excuse to the groom that he was going for a walk, he set off at a +brisk pace over the little bridge and up the hill to Woodnewton. + +The morning was dark and gloomy, with threatening rain, and the distance +was somewhat greater than he had calculated from the map. At last, +however, he came to the entrance to the long village street, with its +church and its rows of low thatched cottages. + +A tiny inn, called the "White Lion," stood before him, therefore he +entered, and calling for some ale, commenced to chat with the old lady +who kept the place. + +After the usual conventionalities about the weather, he said, "I suppose +you don't have very many strangers in Woodnewton, eh?" + +"Not many, sir," was her reply. "We see a few people from Oundle and +Northampton in the summer--holiday folk. But that's all." + +Then, by dint of skilful questioning, he elucidated the fact that old +Miss Heyburn lived in the tiled house further up the village, and that +her niece, who lived with her, had passed along with her dog about a +quarter of an hour before, and taken the footpath towards Southwick. + +Ascertaining this, he was all anxiety to follow her; but, knowing how +sharp are village eyes upon a stranger, he was compelled to conceal his +eagerness, light another cigarette, and continue his chat. + +At last, however, he wished the woman good-day, and, strolling half-way +up the village, turned into a narrow lane which led across a farmyard to +a footpath which ran across the fields, following a brook. Eager to +overtake the girl, he sped along as quickly as possible. + +"Gabrielle Heyburn!" he ejaculated, speaking to himself. Her name was +all that escaped his lips. A dozen times that morning he had repeated +it, uttering it in a tone almost of wonder--almost of awe. + +Across several ploughed fields he went, leaving the brook, and, skirting +a high hedge to the side of a small wood, he followed the well-trodden +path for nearly half-an-hour, when, of a sudden, he emerged from a +narrow lane between two hedgerows into a large pasture. + +Before him, he saw standing together, on the brink of the river Nene, +two figures--a man and a woman. + +The girl was dressed in blue serge, and wore a white woollen +tam-o'-shanter, while the man had on a dark grey overcoat with a brown +felt hat, and nearby, with his eye upon some sheep grazing some distance +away, stood a big collie. + +Hamilton started, and drew back. + +The pair were standing together in earnest conversation, the man facing +him, the girl with her back turned. + +"What does this mean?" gasped Hamilton aloud. "What can this secret +meeting mean? Why--yes, I'm certainly not mistaken--it's Krail--Felix +Krail, by all that's amazing!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +DESCRIBES A CURIOUS CIRCUMSTANCE + + +To Hamilton it was evident that the man Krail, now smartly dressed in +country tweeds, was telling the girl something which surprised her. He +was speaking quickly, making involuntary gestures which betrayed his +foreign birth, while she stood pale, surprised, and yet defiant. The +Baron's secretary was not near enough to overhear their words. Indeed, +he remained there in concealment in order to watch. + +Why had Gabrielle met Felix Krail--of all men? She was beautiful. Yes, +there could be no two opinions upon that point, Edgar decided. And yet +how strange it all was, how very remarkable, how romantic! + +The man was evidently endeavouring to impress upon the girl some plain +truths to which, at first, she refused to listen. She shrugged her +shoulders impatiently and swung her walking-stick before her in an +attempt to remain unconcerned. But from where Hamilton was standing he +could plainly detect her agitation. Whatever Krail had told her had +caused her much nervous anxiety. What could it be? + +Across the meadows, beyond the river, could be seen the lantern-tower of +old Fotheringhay church, with the mound behind where once stood the +castle where ill-fated Mary met her doom. + +And as the Baron's secretary watched, he saw that the foreigner's +attitude was gradually changing from persuasive to threatening. He was +speaking quickly, probably in French, making wild gestures with his +hands, while she had drawn back with an expression of alarm. She was +now, it seemed, frightened at the man, and to Edgar Hamilton this +increased the interest tenfold. + +Through his mind there flashed the recollection of a previous occasion +when he had seen the man now before him. He was in different garb, and +acting a very different part. But his face was still the same--a +countenance which it was impossible to forget. He was watching the +changing expression upon the girl's face. Would that he could read the +secret hidden behind those wonderful eyes! He had, quite unexpectedly, +discovered a mysterious circumstance. Why should Krail meet her by +accident at that lonely spot? + +The pair moved very slowly together along the path which, having left +the way to Southwick, ran along the very edge of the broad, winding +river towards Fotheringhay. Until they had crossed the wide pasture-land +and followed the bend of the stream Hamilton dare not emerge from his +place of concealment. They might glance back and discover him. If so, +then to watch Krail's movements further would be futile. + +He saw that, by the exercise of caution, he might perhaps learn +something of deeper interest than he imagined. So he watched until they +disappeared, and then sped along the path they had taken until he came +to a clump of bushes which afforded further cover. From where he stood, +however, he could see nothing. He could hear voices--a man's voice +raised in distinct threats, and a woman's quick, defiant response. + +He walked round the bushes quickly, trying to get sight of the pair, but +the river bent sharply at that point in such a manner that he could not +get a glimpse of them. + +Again he heard Krail speaking rapidly in French, and still again the +girl's response. Then, next instant, there was a shrill scream and a +loud splash. + +Next moment, he had darted from his hiding-place to find the girl +struggling in the water, while at the same time he caught sight of Krail +disappearing quickly around the path. Had he glanced back he could not +have seen the girl in the stream. + +At that point the bank was steep, and the stillness of the river and +absence of rushes told that it was deep. + +The girl was throwing up her hand, shrieking for help; therefore, +without a second's hesitation, Hamilton, who was a good swimmer, threw +off his coat, and, diving in, was soon at her side. + +By this time Krail had hurried on, and could obtain no glimpse of what +was in progress owing to the sharp bend of the river. + +After considerable splashing--Hamilton urging her to remain calm--he +succeeded in bringing her to land, where they both struggled up the bank +dripping wet and more or less exhausted. Some moments elapsed before +either spoke; until, indeed, Hamilton, looking straight into the girl's +face and bursting out laughing, exclaimed, "Well, I think I have the +pleasure of being acquainted with you, but I must say that we both look +like drowned rats!" + +"I look horrid!" she declared, staring at him half-dazed, putting her +hands to her dripping hair. "I know I must. But I have to thank you for +pulling me out. Only fancy, Mr. Hamilton--you!" + +"Oh, no thanks are required! What we must do is to get to some place and +get our clothes dried," he said. "Do you know this neighbourhood?" + +"Oh, yes. Straight over there, about a quarter of a mile away, is +Wyatt's farm. Mrs. Wyatt will look after us, I'm sure." And as she rose +to her feet, regarding her companion shyly, her skirts clung around her +and the water squelched from her shoes. + +"Very well," he answered cheerily. "Let's go and see what can be done +towards getting some dry kit. I'm glad you're not too frightened. A good +many girls would have fainted, and all that kind of thing." + +"I certainly should have gone under if you hadn't so fortunately come +along!" she exclaimed. "I really don't know how to thank you +sufficiently. You've actually saved my life, you know! If it were not +for you I'd have been dead by this time, for I can't swim a stroke." + +"By Jove!" he laughed, treating the whole affair as a huge joke, "how +romantic it sounds! Fancy meeting you again after all this time, and +saving your life! I suppose the papers will be full of it if they get to +know--gallant rescue, and all that kind of twaddle." + +"Well, personally, I hope the papers won't get hold of this piece of +intelligence," she said seriously, as they walked together, rather +pitiable objects, across the wide grass-fields. + +He glanced at her pale face, her hair hanging dank and wet about it, and +saw that, even under these disadvantageous conditions, she had grown +more beautiful than before. Of late he had heard of her--heard a good +deal of her--but had never dreamed that they would meet again in that +manner. + +"How did it happen?" he asked in pretence of ignorance of her +companion's presence. + +She raised her fine eyes to his for a moment, and wavered beneath his +inquiring gaze. + +"I--I--well, I really don't know," was her rather lame answer. "The bank +was very slippery, and--well, I suppose I walked too near." + +Her reply struck him as curious. Why did she attempt to shield the man +who, by his sudden flight, was self-convicted of an attempt upon her +life? + +Felix Krail was not a complete stranger to her. Why had their meeting +been a clandestine one? This, and a thousand similar queries ran through +his mind as they walked across the field in the direction of a long, +low, thatched farmhouse which stood in the distance. + +"I'm a complete stranger in these parts," Hamilton informed her. "I live +nowadays mostly abroad, away above the Danube, and am only home for a +holiday." + +"And I'm afraid you've completely spoilt your clothes," she laughed, +looking at his wet, muddy trousers and boots. + +"Well, if I have, yours also are no further good." + +"Oh, my blouse will wash, and I shall send my skirt to the cleaners, and +it will come back like new," she answered. "Women's outdoor clothing +never suffers by a wetting. We'll get Mrs. Wyatt to dry them, and then +I'll get home again to my aunt in Woodnewton. Do you know the place?" + +"I fancy I passed through it this morning. One of those long, lean +villages, with a church at the end." + +"That's it--the dullest little place in all England, I believe." + +He was struck by her charm of manner. Though bedraggled and dishevelled, +she was nevertheless delightful, and treated her sudden immersion with +careless unconcern. + +Why had Krail attempted to get rid of her in that manner? What motive +had he? + +They reached the farmhouse, where Mrs. Wyatt, a stout, ruddy-faced +woman, detecting their approach, met them upon the threshold. "Lawks, +Miss Heyburn! why, what's happened?" she asked in alarm. + +"I fell into the river, and this gentleman fished me out. That's all," +laughed the girl. "We want to dry our things, if we may." + +In a few minutes, in bedrooms upstairs, they had exchanged their wet +clothes for dry ones. Then Edgar in the farmer's Sunday suit of black, +and Gabrielle in one of Mrs. Wyatt's stuff dresses, in the big folds of +which her slim little figure was lost, met again in the spacious +farmhouse-kitchen below. + +They laughed heartily at the ridiculous figure which each presented, and +drank the glasses of hot milk which the farmer's wife pressed upon them. + +Old Miss Heyburn had been Mrs. Wyatt's mistress years ago, when she was +in service, therefore she was most solicitous after the girl's welfare, +and truth to tell looked askance at the good-looking stranger who had +accompanied her. + +Gabrielle, too, was puzzled to know why Mr. Hamilton should be there. +That he now lived abroad "beside the Danube" was all the information he +had vouchsafed regarding himself, yet from certain remarks he had +dropped she was suspicious. She recollected only too vividly the +occasion when they had met last, and what had occurred. + +They sat together on the bench outside the house, enjoying the full +sunshine, while the farmer's wife chattered on. A big fire had been made +in the kitchen, and their clothes were rapidly drying. + +Hamilton, by careful questions, endeavoured to obtain from the girl some +information concerning her dealings with the man Krail. But she was too +wary. It was evident that she had some distinct object in concealing the +fact that he had deliberately flung her into the water after that heated +altercation. + +Felix Krail! The very name caused him to clench his hands. Fortunately, +he knew the truth, therefore that dastardly attempt upon the girl's life +should not go unpunished. As he sat there chatting with her, admiring +her refinement and innate daintiness, he made a vow within himself to +seek out that cowardly fugitive and meet him face to face. + +Felix Krail! What could be his object in ridding the world of the +daughter of Sir Henry Heyburn! What would the man gain thereby? He knew +Krail too well to imagine that he ever did anything without a motive of +gain. So well did he play his cards always that the police could never +lay hands upon him. Yet his "friends," as he termed them, were among the +most dangerous men in all Europe--men who were unscrupulous, and would +hesitate at nothing in order to accomplish the _coup_ which they had +devised. + +What was the _coup_ in this particular instance? Ay, that was the +question. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +OUTSIDE THE WINDOW + + +Late on the following afternoon Gabrielle was seated at the +old-fashioned piano in her aunt's tiny drawing-room, her fingers running +idly over the keys, her thoughts wandering back to the exciting +adventure of the previous morning. Her aunt was out visiting some old +people in connection with the village clothing club, therefore she sat +gloomily amusing herself at the piano, and thinking--ever thinking. + +She had been playing almost mechanically Berger's "Amoureuse" valse and +some dreamy music from _The Merry Widow_, when she suddenly stopped and +sat back with her eyes fixed out of the window upon the cottages +opposite. + +Why was Mr. Hamilton in that neighbourhood? He had given her no further +information concerning himself. He seemed to be disinclined to talk +about his recent movements. He had sprung from nowhere just at the +critical moment when she was in such deadly peril. Then, after their +clothes had been dried, they had walked together as far as the little +bridge at the entrance to Fotheringhay. + +There he had stopped, bent gallantly over her hand, congratulated her +upon her escape, and as their ways lay in opposite directions--she back +to Woodnewton and he on to Oundle--they had parted. "I hope, Miss +Heyburn, that we may meet again one day," he had laughed cheerily as he +raised his hat, "Good-bye." Then he had turned away, and had been lost +to view round the bend of the road. + +She was safe. That man whom she had known long ago under such strange +circumstances, whom she would probably never see again, had been her +rescuer. Of this curious and romantic fact she was now thinking. + +But where was Walter? Why had he not replied to her letter? Ah! that was +the one thought which oppressed her always, sleeping and waking, day and +night. Why had he not written? Would he never write again? + +She had at first consoled herself with the thought that he was probably +on the Continent, and that her letter had not been forwarded. But as the +days went on, and no reply came, the truth became more and more apparent +that her lover--the man whom she adored and worshipped--had put her +aside, had accepted her at her own estimate as worthless. + +A thousand times she had regretted the step she had taken in writing +that cruel letter before she left Glencardine. But it was all too late. +She had tried to retract; but, alas! it was now impossible. + +Tears welled in her splendid eyes at thought of the man whom she had +loved so well. The world had, indeed, been cruel to her. Her enemies had +profited by her inexperience, and she had fallen an unhappy victim of an +unscrupulous blackguard. Yes, it was only too true. She did not try to +conceal the ugly truth from herself. Yet she had been compelled to keep +Walter in ignorance of the truth, for he loved her. + +A hardness showed at the corners of her sweet lips, and the tears rolled +slowly down her cheeks. Then, bestirring herself with an effort, her +white fingers ran over the keys again, and in her sweet, musical voice +she sang "L'Heure d'Aimer," that pretty _valse chantée_ so popular in +Paris:-- + + Voici l'heure d'aimer, l'heure des tendresses; + Dis-moi les mots très doux qui vont me griser, + Ah! prends-moi dans tes bras, fais-moi des caresses; + Je veux mourir pour revivre sous ton baiser. + Emporte-moi dans un rêve amoureux, + Bien loin sur la terre inconnue, + Pour que longtemps, même en rouvrant les yeux, + Ce rêve continue. + + Croyons, aimons, vivons un jour; + C'est si bon, mais si court! + Bonheur de vivre ici-bas diminue + Dans un moment d'amour. + +The Hour of Love! How full of burning love and sentiment! She stopped, +reflecting on the meaning of those words. + +She was not like the average miss who, parrot-like, knows only a few +French or Italian songs. Italian she loved even better than French, and +could read Dante and Petrarch in the original, while she possessed an +intimate knowledge of the poetry of Italy from the mediaeval writers +down to Carducci and D'Annunzio. + +With a sigh, she glanced around the small room, with its old-fashioned +furniture, its antimacassars of the early Victorian era, its wax flowers +under their glass dome, and its gipsy-table covered with a +hand-embroidered cloth. It was all so very dispiriting. The primness of +the whatnot decorated with pieces of treasured china, the big +gilt-framed overmantel, and the old punch-bowl filled with pot-pourri, +all spoke mutely of the thin-nosed old spinster to whom the veriest +speck of dust was an abomination. + +Sighing still again, the girl turned once more to the old-fashioned +instrument, with its faded crimson silk behind the walnut fretwork, and, +playing the plaintive melody, sang an ancient serenade: + + Di questo cor tu m'hai ferito il core + A cento colpi, piu non val mentire. + Pensa che non sopporto piu il dolore, + E se segu cosi, vado a morire. + Ti tengo nella mente a tutte l'ore, + Se lavoro, se velio, o sto a dormre ... + E mentre dormo ancora un sonno grato, + Mi trovo tutto lacrime bagnato! + +While she sang, there was a rap at the front-door, and, just as she +concluded, the prim maid entered with a letter upon a salver. + +In an instant her heart gave a bound. She recognised the handwriting. It +was Walter's. + +The moment the girl had left the room she tore open the envelope, and, +holding her breath, read what was written within. + +The words were: + +"DEAREST HEART,--Your letter came to me after several wanderings. It has +caused me to think and to wonder if, after all, I may be mistaken--if, +after all, I have misjudged you, darling. I gave you my heart, it is +true. But you spurned it--under compulsion, you say! Why under +compulsion? Who is it who compels you to act against your will and +against your better nature? I know that you love me as well and as truly +as I love you yourself. I long to see you with just as great a longing. +You are mine--mine, my own--and being mine, you must tell me the truth. + +"I forgive you, forgive you everything. But I cannot understand what +Flockart means by saying that I have spoken of you. I have not seen the +man, nor do I wish to see him. Gabrielle, do not trust him. He is your +enemy, as he is mine. He has lied to you. As grim circumstance has +forced you to treat me cruelly, let us hope that smiling fortune will be +ours at last. The world is very small. I have just met my old friend +Edgar Hamilton, who was at college with me, and who, I find, is +secretary to some wealthy foreigner, a certain Baron de Hetzendorf. I +have not seen him for years, and yet he turns up here, merry and +prosperous, after struggling for a long time with adverse circumstances. + +"But, Gabrielle, your letter has puzzled and alarmed me. The more I +think of it, the more mystifying it all becomes. I must see you, and you +must tell me the truth--the whole truth. We love each other, dear heart, +and no one shall force you to lie again to me as you did in that letter +you wrote from Glencardine. You wish to see me, darling. You shall--and +you shall tell me the truth. My dear love, _au revoir_--until we meet, +which I hope may be almost as soon as you receive this letter.--My love, +my sweetheart, I am your own WALTER." + +She sat staring at the letter. He demanded an explanation. He intended +to come there and demand it! And the explanation was one which she dared +not give. Rather that she took her own life than tell him the ghastly +circumstances. + +He had met an old chum named Hamilton. Was this the Mr. Hamilton who had +snatched her from that deadly peril? The name of Hetzendorf sounded to +be Austrian or German. How strange if Mr. Hamilton her rescuer were the +same man who had been years ago her lover's college friend! + +She passed her white hand across her brow, trying to collect her senses. + +She had longed--ah, with such an intense longing!--for a response to +that letter of hers, and here at last it had come. But what a response! +He intended her to make confession. He demanded to know the actual +truth. What could she do? How should she act? + +Holding the letter in her hand, she glanced around the little room in +utter despair. + +He loved her. His words of reassurance brought her great comfort. But he +wished to know the truth. He suspected something. By her own action in +writing those letters she had aroused suspicion against herself. She +regretted, yet what was the use of regret? Her own passionate words had +revealed to him something which he had not suspected. And he was coming +down there, to Woodnewton, to demand the truth! He might even then be on +his way! + +If he asked her point-blank, what could she reply? She dare not tell him +the truth. There were now but two roads open--either death by her own +hand or to lie to him. + +Could she tell him an untruth? No. She loved him, therefore she could +not resort to false declarations and deceit. Better--far better--would +it be that she took her own life. Better, she thought, if Mr. Hamilton +had not plunged into the river after her. If her life had ended, Walter +Murie would at least have been spared the bitter knowledge of a +disgraceful truth. Her face grew pale and her mouth hardened at the +thought. + +She loved him with all the fierce passion of her young heart. He was her +hero, her idol. Before her tear-dimmed eyes his dear, serious face rose, +a sweet memory of what had been. Tender remembrances of his fond kisses +still lingered with her. She recollected how around her waist his strong +arm would steal, and how slowly and yet irresistibly he would draw her +in his arms in silent ecstasy. + +Alas! that was all past and over. They loved each other, but she was now +face to face with what she had so long dreaded--face to face with the +inevitable. She must either confess the truth, and by so doing turn his +love to hatred, or else remain silent and face the end. + +She reread the letter still seated at the piano, her elbows resting +inertly upon the keys. Then she lifted her pale face again to the +window, gazing out blankly upon the village street, so dull, so silent, +so uninteresting. The thought of Mr. Hamilton--the man who held a secret +of hers, and who only a few hours before had rescued her from the peril +in which Felix Krail had placed her--again recurred to her. Was it not +remarkable that he, Walter's old friend, should come down into that +neighbourhood? There was some motive in his visit! What could it be? He +had spoken of Hungary, a country which had always possessed for her a +strange fascination. Was it not quite likely that, being Walter's +friend, Hamilton on his return to London would relate the exciting +incident of the river? Had he seen Krail? And, if so, did he know him? + +Those two points caused her the greatest apprehension. Suppose he had +recognised Krail! Suppose he had overheard that man's demands, and her +defiant refusal, he would surely tell Walter! + +She bit her lip, and her white fingers clenched themselves in +desperation. + +Why should all this misfortune fall upon her, to wreck her young life? +Other girls were gay, careless, and happy. They visited and motored and +flirted and danced, and went to theatres in town and to suppers +afterwards at the Carlton or Savoy, and had what they termed "a ripping +good time." But to her poor little self all pleasure was debarred. Only +the grim shadows of life were hers. + +Her mind had become filled with despair. Why had this great calamity +befallen her? Why had she, by her own action in writing to her lover, +placed herself in that terrible position from which there was no +escape--save by death? + +The recollection of the Whispers--those fatal Whispers of +Glencardine--flashed through her distressed mind. Was it actually true, +as the countryfolk declared, that death overtook all those who overheard +the counsels of the Evil One? It really seemed as though there actually +was more in the weird belief than she had acknowledged. Her father had +scouted the idea, yet old Stewart, who had personally known instances, +had declared that evil and disaster fell inevitably upon any one who +chanced to hear those voices of the night. + +The recollection of that moonlight hour among the ruins, and the +distinct voices whispering, caused a shudder to run through her. She had +heard them with her own ears, and ever since that moment nothing but +catastrophe upon catastrophe had fallen upon her. + +Yes, she had heard the Whispers, and she could not escape their evil +influence any more than those other unfortunate persons to whom death +had come so unexpectedly and swiftly. + +A shadow passed the window, causing her to start. The figure was that of +a man. She rose from the piano with a cry, and stood erect, motionless, +statuesque. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +IS ABOUT THE MAISON LÉNARD + + +The big, rather severely but well-furnished room overlooked the busy +Boulevard des Capucines in Paris. In front lay the great white façade of +the Grand Hotel; below was all the bustle, life, and movement of Paris +on a bright sunny afternoon. Within the room, at a large mahogany table, +sat four grave-faced men, while a fifth stood at one of the long +windows, his back turned to his companions. + +The short, broad-shouldered man looking forth into the street, in +expectancy, was Monsieur Goslin. He had been speaking, and his words had +evidently caused some surprise, even alarm, among his companions, for +they now exchanged glances in silence. + +Three of the men were well-dressed and prosperous-looking; while the +fourth, a shrivelled old fellow, in faded clothes which seemed several +sizes too large for him, looked needy and ill-fed as he nervously chafed +his thin bony hands. + +Next moment they all began chatting in French, though from their +countenances it was plain that they were of various nationalities--one +being German, the other Italian, and the third, a sallow-faced man, had +the appearance of a Levantine. + +Goslin alone remained silent and watchful. From where he stood he could +see the people entering and leaving the Grand Hotel. He glanced +impatiently at his watch, and then paced the room, his hand thoughtfully +stroking his grey beard. Only half an hour before he had alighted at the +Gare du Nord, coming direct from far-off Glencardine, and had driven +there in an auto-cab to keep an appointment made by telegram. As he +paced the big room, with its dark-green walls, its Turkey carpet, and +sombre furniture, his companions regarded him in wonder. They +instinctively knew that he had some news of importance to impart. There +was one absentee. Until his arrival Goslin refused to say anything. + +The youngest of the four assembled at the table was the Italian, a +rather thin, keen-faced, dark-moustached man of refined appearance. +"_Madonna mia!_" he cried, raising his face to the Frenchman, "why, what +has happened? This is unusual. Besides, why should we wait? I've only +just arrived from Turin, and haven't had time to go to the hotel. Let us +get on. _Avanti!_" + +"Not until he is present," answered Goslin, speaking earnestly in +French. "I have a statement to make from Sir Henry. But I am not +permitted to make it until all are here." Then, glancing at his watch, +he added, "His train was due at Est Station at 4.58. He ought to be here +at any moment." + +The shabby old man, by birth a Pole, still sat chafing his chilly +fingers. None who saw Antoine Volkonski, as he shuffled along the +street, ever dreamed that he was head of the great financial house of +Volkonski Frères of Petersburg, whose huge loans to the Russian +Government during the war with Japan created a sensation throughout +Europe, and surely no casual observer looking at that little assembly +would ever entertain suspicion that, between them, they could +practically dictate to the money-market of Europe. + +The Italian seated next to him was the Commendatore Rudolphe Cusani, +head of the wealthy banking firm of Montemartini of Rome, which ranked +next to the Bank of Italy. Of the remaining two, one was a Greek from +Smyrna, and the other, a rather well-dressed man with longish grey hair, +Josef Frohnmeyer of Hamburg, a name also to conjure with in the +financial world. + +The impatient Italian was urging Goslin to explain why the meeting had +been so hastily summoned when, without warning, the door opened and a +tall, distinguished man, with carefully trained grey moustache, and +wearing a heavy travelling ulster, entered. + +"Ah, my dear Baron!" cried the Italian, jumping from his chair and +taking the new-comer's hand, "we were waiting for you." And he drew a +chair next to his. + +The man addressed tossed his soft felt travelling hat aside, saying, +"The 'wire' reached me at a country house outside Vienna, where I was +visiting. But I came instantly." And he seated himself, while the chair +at the head of the table was taken by the stout Frenchman. + +"Messieurs," Goslin commenced, and--speaking in French--began +apologising at being compelled to call them together so soon after their +last meeting. "The matter, however, is of such urgency," he went on, +"that this conference is absolutely necessary. I am here in Sir Henry's +place, with a statement from him--an alarming statement. Our enemies +have unfortunately triumphed." + +"What do you mean?" cried the Italian, starting to his feet. + +"Simply this. Poor Sir Henry has been the victim of treachery.--Those +papers which you, my dear Volkonski, brought to me in secret at +Glencardine a month ago have been stolen!" + +"Stolen!" gasped the shabby old man, his grey eyes starting from his +head; "stolen! _Dieu!_ Think what that means to us--to me--to my house! +They will be sold to the Ministry of Finance in Petersburg, and I shall +be ruined--ruined!" + +"Not only you will be ruined!" remarked the man from Hamburg, "but our +control of the market will be at an end." + +"And together we lose over three million roubles," said Goslin in as +quiet a voice as he could assume. + +The six men--those men who dealt in millions, men whose names, every one +of them, were as household words on the various Bourses of Europe and in +banking circles, men who lent money to reigning Sovereigns and to +States, whose interests were world-wide and whose influences were +greater than those of Kings and Ministers--looked at each other in blank +despair. + +"We have to face this fact, as Sir Henry points out to you, that at +Petersburg the Department of Finance has no love for us. We put on the +screw a little too heavily when we sold them secretly those three +Argentine cruisers. We made a mistake in not being content with smaller +profit." + +"Yes, if it had been a genuinely honest deal on their side," remarked +the Italian. "But it was not. In Russia the crowd made quite as great a +profit as we did." + +"And all three ships were sent to the bottom of the sea four months +afterwards," added Frohnmeyer with a grim laugh. + +"That isn't the question," Goslin said. "What we have now to face is the +peril of exposure. No one can, of course, allege that we have ever +resorted to any sharper practices than those of other financial groups; +but the fact of our alliance and our impregnable strength will, when it +is known, arouse the fiercest antagonism in certain circles." + +"No one suspects the secret of our alliance," the Italian ejaculated. +"It must be kept--kept at all hazards." + +Each man seated there knew that exposure of the tactics by which they +were ruling the Bourse would mean the sudden end of their great +prosperity. + +"But this is not the first occasion that documents have been stolen from +Sir Henry at Glencardine," remarked the Baron Conrad de Hetzendorf. "I +remember the last time I went there to see him he explained how he had +discovered his daughter with the safe open, and some of the papers +actually in her hands." + +"Unfortunately that is so," Goslin answered. "There is every evidence +that we owe our present peril to her initiative. She and her father are +on bad terms, and it seems more than probable that though she is no +longer at Glencardine she has somehow contrived to get hold of the +documents in question--at the instigation of her lover, we believe." + +"How do you know that the documents are stolen?" the Baron asked. + +"Because three days ago Sir Henry received an anonymous letter bearing +the postmark of 'London, E.C.,' enclosing correct copies of the papers +which our friend Volkonski brought from Petersburg, and asking what sum +he was prepared to pay to obtain repossession of the originals. On +receipt of the letter," continued Goslin, "I rushed to the safe, to find +the papers gone. The door had been unlocked and relocked by an unknown +hand." + +"And how does suspicion attach to the girl's lover?" asked the man from +Hamburg. + +"Well, he was alone in the library for half an hour about five days +before. He called to see Sir Henry while he and I were out walking +together in the park. It is believed that the girl has a key to the +safe, which she handed to her lover in order that he might secure the +papers and sell them in Russia." + +"But young Murie is the son of a wealthy man, I've heard," observed the +Baron. + +"Certainly. But at present his allowance is small," was Goslin's reply. + +"Well, what's to be done?" inquired the Italian. + +"Done?" echoed Goslin. "Nothing can be done." + +"Why?" they all asked almost in one breath. + +"Because Sir Henry has replied, refusing to treat for the return of the +papers." + +"Was that not injudicious? Why did he not allow us to discuss the affair +first?" argued the Levantine. + +"Because an immediate answer by telegraph to a post-office in Hampshire +was demanded," Goslin replied. "Remember that to Sir Henry's remarkable +foresight all our prosperity has been due. Surely we may trust in his +judicious treatment of the thief!" + +"That's all very well," protested Volkonski; "but my fortune is at +stake. If the Ministry obtains those letters they will crush and ruin +me." + +"Sir Henry is no novice," remarked the Baron. "He fights an enemy with +his own weapons. Remember that Greek deal of which the girl gained +knowledge. He actually prepared bogus contracts and correspondence for +the thief to steal. They were stolen, and, passing through a dozen +hands, were at last offered in Athens. The Ministry there laughed at the +thieves for their pains. Let us hope the same result will be now +obtained." + +"I fear not," Goslin said quietly. "The documents stolen on the former +occasion were worthless. The ones now in the hands of our enemies are +genuine." + +"But," said the Baron, "you, Goslin, went to live at Glencardine on +purpose to protect our poor blind friend from his enemies!" + +"I know," said the man addressed. "I did my best--and failed. The +footman Hill, knowing young Murie as a frequent guest at Glencardine, +the other day showed him into the library and left him there alone. It +was then, no doubt, that he opened the safe with a false key and secured +the documents." + +"Then why not apply for a warrant for his arrest?" suggested the +Commendatore Cusani. "Surely your English laws do not allow thieves to +go unpunished? In Italy we should quickly lay hands on them." + +"But we have no evidence." + +"You have no suspicion that any other man may have committed the +theft--that fellow Flockart, for instance? I don't like him," added the +Baron. "He is altogether too friendly with everybody at Glencardine." + +"I have already made full inquiries. Flockart was in Rome. He only +returned to London the day before yesterday. No. Everything points to +the girl taking revenge upon her father, who, I am compelled to admit, +has treated her with rather undue harshness. Personally, I consider +mademoiselle very charming and intelligent." + +They all admitted that her correspondence and replies to reports were +marvels of clear, concise instruction. Every man among them knew well +her neat round handwriting, yet only Goslin had ever seen her. + +The Frenchman was asked to describe both the girl and her lover. This he +did, declaring that Gabrielle and Walter were a very handsome pair. + +"Whatever may be said," remarked old Volkonski, "the girl was a most +excellent assistant to Sir Henry. But it is, of course, the old story--a +young girl's head turned by a handsome lover. Yet surely the youth is +not so poor that he became a thief of necessity. To me it seems rather +as though he stole the documents at her instigation." + +"That is exactly Sir Henry's belief," Goslin remarked with a sigh. "The +poor old fellow is beside himself with grief and fear." + +"No wonder!" remarked the Italian. "None of us would care to be betrayed +by our own daughters." + +"But cannot a trap be laid to secure the thief before he approaches the +people in Russia?" suggested the crafty Levantine. + +"Yes, yes!" cried Volkonski, his hands still clenched. "The Ministry +would give a hundred thousand roubles for them, because by their aid +they could crush me--crush you all. Remember, there are names +there--names of some of the most prominent officials in the Empire. +Think of the power of the Ministry if they held that list in their +hands!" + +"No," said the Baron in a clear, distinct voice, his grey eyes fixed +thoughtfully upon the wall opposite. "Rather think of our positions, of +the exultation of our enemies if this great combine of ours were exposed +and broken! Myself, I consider it folly that we have met here openly +to-day. This is the first time we have all met, save in secret, and how +do we know but some spy may be on the _boulevard_ outside noting who has +entered here?" + +"_Mille diavoli!_" gasped Cusani, striking the table with his fist and +sinking back into his chair. "I recollect I passed outside here a man I +know--a man who knows me. He was standing on the kerb. He saw me. His +name is Krail--Felix Krail!" + +"Is he still there?" cried the men, as with one accord they left their +chairs and dashed eagerly across to the window. + +"Krail!" cried the Russian in alarm. "Where is he?" + +"See!" the Italian pointed out, "see the man in black yonder, standing +there near the _kiosque_, smoking a cigarette. He is still watching. He +has seen us meet here!" + +"Ah!" said the Baron in a hoarse voice, "I said so. To meet openly like +this was far too great a risk. Nobody knew anything of Lénard et +Morellet of the Boulevard des Capucines except that they were +unimportant financiers. To-morrow the world will know who they really +are. Messieurs, we are the victims of a very clever ruse. We have been +so tricked that we have been actually summoned here and our identity +disclosed!" + +The five monarchs of finance stood staring at each other in absolute +silence. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +SURPRISES MR. FLOCKART + + +"Well, you and your friend Felix have placed me in a very pleasant +position, haven't you?" asked Lady Heyburn of Flockart, who had just +entered the green-and-white morning-room at Park Street. "I hope now +that you're satisfied with your blunder!" + +The man addressed, in a well-cut suit of grey, a fancy vest, and +patent-leather boots, still carrying his hat and stick in his hand, +turned to her in surprise. + +"What do you mean?" he asked. "I arrived from Paris at five this +morning, and I've brought you good news." + +"Nonsense!" cried the woman, starting from her chair in anger. "You +can't deceive me any longer." + +"Krail has discovered the whole game. The syndicate held a meeting at +the office in Paris. He and I watched the arrivals. We now know who they +are, and exactly what they are doing. By Jove! we never dreamed that +your husband, blind though he is, is head of such a smart and +influential group. Why, they're the first in Europe." + +"What does that matter? Krail wants money, so do we; but even with all +your wonderful schemes we get none!" + +"Wait, my dear Winnie, remain patient, and we shall obtain plenty." + +It was indeed strange for a woman within that smart town-house, and with +her electric brougham at the door, to complain of poverty. The house had +been a centre of political activity in the days before Sir Henry met +with that terrible affliction. The room in which the pair stood had been +the scene of many a private and momentous conference, and in the big +drawing-room upstairs many a Cabinet Minister had bent over the hand of +the fair Lady Heyburn. + +Into the newly decorated room, with its original Adams ceiling, its +dead-white panelling and antique overmantel, shone the morning sun, weak +and yellow as it always is in London in the spring-time. + +Lady Heyburn, dressed in a smart walking-gown of grey, pushed her fluffy +fair hair from her brow, while upon her face was an expression which +told of combined fear and anger. + +Her visitor was surprised. After that watchful afternoon in the +Boulevard des Capucines, he had sat in a corner of the Café Terminus +listening to Krail, who rubbed his hands with delight and declared that +he now held the most powerful group in Europe in the hollow of his hand. + +For the past six years or so gigantic _coups_ had been secured by that +unassuming and apparently third-rate financial house of Lénard et +Morellet. From a struggling firm they had within a year grown into one +whose wealth seemed inexhaustible, and whose balances at the Credit +Lyonnais, the Société Générale, and the Comptoir d'Escompte were +possibly the largest of any of the customers of those great +corporations. The financial world of Europe had wondered. It was a +mystery who was behind Lénard et Morellet, the pair of steady-going, +highly respectable business men who lived in unostentatious comfort, the +former at Enghien, just outside Paris, and the latter out in the country +at Melum. The mystery was so well and so carefully preserved that not +even the bankers themselves could obtain knowledge of the truth. + +Krail had, however, after nearly two years of clever watching and +ingenious subterfuge, succeeded, by placing the group in a "hole" in +calling them together. That they met, and often, was undoubted. But +where they met, and how, was still a complete mystery. + +As Flockart had sat that previous afternoon listening to Krail's +unscrupulous and self-confident proposals, he had remained in silent +wonder at the man's audacious attitude. Nothing deterred him, nothing +daunted him. + +Flockart had returned that night from Paris, gone to his chambers in +Half-Moon Street, breakfasted, dressed, and had now called upon her +ladyship in order to impart to her the good news. Yet, instead of +welcoming him, she only treated him with resentment and scorn. He knew +the quick flash of those eyes, he had seen it before on other occasions. +This was not the first time they had quarrelled, yet he, keen-witted and +cunning, had always held her powerless to elude him, had always +compelled her to give him the sums he so constantly demanded. That +morning, however, she was distinctly resentful, distinctly defiant. + +For an instant he turned from her, biting his lip in annoyance. When +facing her again, he smiled, asking, "Tell me, Winnie, what does all +this mean?" + +"Mean!" echoed the Baronet's wife. "Mean! How can you ask me that +question? Look at me--a ruined woman! And you----" + +"Speak out!" he cried. "What has happened?" + +"You surely know what has happened. You have treated me like the cur you +are--and that is speaking plainly. You've sacrificed me in order to save +yourself." + +"From what?" + +"From exposure. To me, ruin is not a matter of days, but of hours." + +"You're speaking in enigmas. I don't understand you," he cried +impatiently. "Krail and I have at last been successful. We know now the +true source of your husband's huge income, and in order to prevent +exposure he must pay--and pay us well too." + +"Yes," she laughed hysterically. "You tell me all this after you've +blundered." + +"Blundered! How?" he asked, surprised at her demeanour. + +"What's the use of beating about the bush?" asked her ladyship. "The +girl is back at Glencardine. She knows everything, thanks to your +foolish self-confidence." + +"Back at Glencardine!" gasped Flockart. "But she dare not speak. By +heaven! if she does--then--then--" + +"And what, pray, can you do?" inquired the woman harshly. "It is I who +have to suffer, I who am crushed, humiliated, ruined, while you and your +precious friend shield yourselves behind your cloaks of honesty. You are +Sir Henry's friend. He believes you as such--you!" And she laughed the +hollow laugh of a woman who was staring death in the face. She was +haggard and drawn, and her hands trembled with nervousness which she +strove in vain to repress. Lady Heyburn was desperate. + +"He still believes in me, eh?" asked the man, thinking deeply, for his +clever brain was already active to devise some means of escape from what +appeared to be a distinctly awkward dilemma. He had never calculated the +chances of Gabrielle's return to her father's side. He had believed that +impossible. + +"I understand that my husband will hear no word against you," replied +the tall, fair-haired woman. "But when I speak he will listen, depend +upon it." + +"You dare!" he cried, turning upon her in threatening attitude. "You +dare utter a single word against me, and, by Heaven! I'll tell what I +know. The country shall ring with a scandal--the shame of your attitude +towards the girl, and a crime for which you will be arraigned, with me, +before an assize-court. Remember!" + +The woman shrank from him. Her face had blanched. She saw that he was +equally as determined as she was desperate. James Flockart always kept +his threats. He was by no means a man to trifle with. + +For a moment she was thoughtful, then she laughed defiantly in his face. +"Speak! Say what you will. But if you do, you suffer with me." + +"You say that exposure is imminent," he remarked. "How did the girl +manage to return to Glencardine?" + +"With Walter's aid. He went down to Woodnewton. What passed between them +I have no idea. I only returned the day before yesterday from the South. +All I know is that the girl is back with her father, and that he knows +much more than he ought to know." + +"Murie could not have assisted her," Flockart declared decisively. "The +old man suspects him of taking those Russian papers from the safe." + +"How do you know he hasn't cleared himself of the suspicion? He may have +done. The old man dotes upon the girl." + +"I know all that." + +"And she may have turned upon you, and told the truth about the safe +incident. That's more than likely." + +"She dare not utter a word." + +"You're far too self-confident. It is your failing." + +"And when, pray, has it failed? Tell me." + +"Never, until the present moment. Your bluff is perfect, yet there are +moments when it cannot aid you, depend upon it. She told me one night +long ago, in my own room, when she had disobeyed, defied, and annoyed +me, that she would never rest until Sir Henry knew the truth, and that +she would place before him proofs of the other affair. She has long +intended to do this; and now, thanks to your attitude of passive +inertness, she has accomplished her intentions." + +"What!" he gasped in distinct alarm, "has she told her father the +truth?" + +"A telegram I received from Sir Henry late last night makes it only too +plain that he knows something," responded the unhappy woman, staring +straight before her. "It is your fault--your fault!" she went on, +turning suddenly upon her companion again. "I warned you of the danger +long ago." + +Flockart stood motionless. The announcement which the woman had made +staggered him. + +Felix Krail had come to him in Paris, and after some hesitation, and +with some reluctance, had described how he had followed the girl along +the Nene bank and thrown her into the deepest part of the river, knowing +that she would be hampered by her skirts and that she could not swim. +"She will not trouble us further. Never fear!" he had said. "It will be +thought a case of suicide through love. Her mental depression is the +common talk of the neighbourhood." + +And yet the girl was safe and now home again at Glencardine! He +reflected upon the ugly facts of "the other affair" to which her +ladyship sometimes referred, and his face went ashen pale. + +Just at the moment when success had come to them after all their +ingenuity and all their endeavours--just at a moment when they could +demand and obtain what terms they liked from Sir Henry to preserve the +secret of the financial combine--came this catastrophe. + +"Felix was a fool to have left his work only half-done," he remarked +aloud, as though speaking to himself. + +"What work?" asked the hollow-eyed woman eagerly. But he did not satisfy +her. To explain would only increase her alarm and render her even more +desperate than she was. + +"Did I not tell you often that, from her, we had all to fear?" cried the +woman frantically. "But you would not listen. And now I am--I'm face to +face with the inevitable. Disaster is before me. No power can avert it. +The girl will have a bitter and terrible revenge." + +"No," he cried quickly, with fierce determination. "No, I'll save you, +Winnie. The girl shall not speak. I'll go up to Glencardine to-night and +face it out. You will come with me." + +"I!" gasped the shrinking woman. "Ah, no. I--I couldn't. I dare not face +him. You know too well I dare not!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +DISCLOSES A SECRET + + +The grey mists were still hanging upon the hills of Glencardine, +although it was already midday, for it had rained all night, and +everywhere was damp and chilly. + +Gabrielle, in her short tweed skirt, golf-cape, and motor-cap, had +strolled, with Walter Murie at her side, from the house along the +winding path to the old castle. From the contented expression upon her +pale, refined countenance, it was plain that happiness, to a great +extent, had been restored to her. + +When he had gone to Woodnewton it was to fetch her back to Glencardine. +He had asked for an explanation, it was true; but when she had refused +one he had not pressed it. That he was puzzled, sorely puzzled, was +apparent. + +At first, Sir Henry had point-blank refused to receive his daughter. But +on hearing her appealing voice he had to some extent relented; and, +though strained relations still existed between them, yet happiness had +come to her in the knowledge that Walter's affection was still as strong +as ever. + +Young Murie had, of course, heard from his mother the story told by Lady +Heyburn concerning the offence of her stepdaughter. But he would not +believe a single word against her. + +They had been strolling slowly, and she had been speaking expressing her +heartfelt thanks for his action in taking her from that life of awful +monotony at Woodnewton. Then he, on his part, had pressed her soft hand +and repeated his promise of lifelong love. + +They had entered the old grass-grown courtyard of the castle, when +suddenly she exclaimed, "How I wish, Walter, that we might elucidate the +secret of the Whispers!" + +"It certainly would be intensely interesting if we could," he said, "The +most curious thing is that my old friend Edgar Hamilton, who is +secretary to the well-known Baron Conrad de Hetzendorf, tells me that a +similar legend is current in connection with the old château in Hungary. +He had heard the Whispers himself." + +"Most remarkable!" she exclaimed, gazing blankly around at the ponderous +walls about her. + +"My idea always has been that beneath where we are standing there must +be a chamber, for most mediaeval castles had a subterranean dungeon +beneath the courtyard." + +"Ah, if we could only find entrance to it!" cried the girl +enthusiastically. "Shall we try?" + +"Have you not often tried, and failed?" he asked laughingly. + +"Yes, but let's search again," she urged. "My strong belief is that +entrance is not to be obtained from this side, but from the glen down +below." + +"Yes, no doubt in the ages long ago the hill was much steeper than it +now is, and there were no trees or undergrowth. On that side it was +impregnable. The river, however, in receding, silted up much earth and +boulders at the bend, and has made the ascent possible." + +Together they went to a breach in the ponderous walls and peered down +into the ancient river-bed, now but a rippling burn. + +"Very well," replied Murie, "let us descend and explore." + +So they retraced their steps until, when about half-way to the house, +they left the path and went down to the bottom of the beautiful glen +until they were immediately beneath the old castle. + +The spot was remote and seldom visited. Few ever came there, for it was +approached by no path on that side of the burn, so that the keepers +always passed along the opposite bank. They had no necessity to +penetrate there. Besides, it was too near the house. + +Through the bracken and undergrowth, passing by big trees that in the +ages had sprung up from seedlings dropped by the birds or sown by the +winds, they slowly ascended to the frowning walls far above--the walls +that had withstood so many sieges and the ravages of so many centuries. + +Half a dozen times the girl's skirt became entangled in the briars, and +once she tore her cape upon some thorns. But, enjoying the adventure, +she went on, Walter going first and clearing a way for her as best he +could. + +"Nobody has ever been up here before, I'm quite certain," Gabrielle +cried, halting, breathless, for a moment. "Old Stewart, who says he +knows every inch of the estate, has never climbed here, I'm sure." + +"I don't expect he has," declared her lover. + +At last they found themselves beneath the foundations of one of the +flanking-towers of the castle walls, whereupon he suggested that if they +followed the wall right along and examined it closely they might +discover some entrance. + +"I somehow fear there will not be any door on the exposed side," he +added. + +The base of the walls was all along hidden by thick undergrowth, +therefore the examination proved extremely difficult. Nevertheless, +keenly interested in their exploration, the pair kept on struggling and +climbing until the perspiration rolled off both their faces. + +Suddenly, Walter uttered a cry of surprise. "Why, look here! This seems +like a track. People _have_ been up here after all!" + +And his companion saw that from the burn below, up through the bushes, +ran a narrow winding path, which showed little sign of frequent use. + +Walter went on before her, quickly following the path until it turned at +right-angles and ended before a low door of rough wood which filled a +small breach in the wall--a breach made, in all probability, at the last +siege in the early seventeenth century. + +"This must lead somewhere!" cried Walter excitedly; and, lifting the +roughly constructed wooden latch, he pushed the door open, disclosing a +cavernous darkness. + +A dank, earthy smell greeted their nostrils. It was certainly an uncanny +place. + +"By Jove!" cried Walter, "I wonder where this leads to?" And, taking out +his vestas, he struck one, and, holding it before him, went forward, +passing through the breach in the broken wall into a stone passage which +led to the left for a few yards and gave entrance to exactly what +Gabrielle had expected--a small, windowless stone chamber probably used +in olden days as a dungeon. + +Here they found, to their surprise, several old chairs, a rough table +formed of two deal planks upon trestles, and a couple of half-burned +candles in candlesticks which Gabrielle recognised as belonging to the +house. These were lit, and by their aid the place was thoroughly +examined. + +Upon the floor was a heap of black tinder where some papers had been +burnt weeks or perhaps months ago. There were cigar-ends lying about, +showing that whoever had been there had taken his ease. + +In a niche was a small tin box containing matches and fresh candles, +while in a corner lay an old newspaper, limp and damp, bearing a date +six months before. On the floor, too, were a number of pieces of +paper--a letter torn to fragments. + +They tried to piece it together, laying it upon the table carefully, but +were unsuccessful in discovering its import, save that it was in +Russian, from somebody in Odessa, and addressed to Sir Henry. + +Carrying the candles in their hands, they went into the narrow passage +to explore the subterranean regions of the old place. But neither way +could they proceed far, for the passage had fallen in at both ends and +was blocked by rubbish. The only exit or entrance was by that narrow +breach in the walls so cunningly concealed by the undergrowth and closed +by the rudely made door of planks nailed together. Above, in the stone +roof of the chamber, there was a wide crack running obliquely, and +through which any sound could be heard in the courtyard above. + +They remained in the narrow, low-roofed little cell for a full +half-hour, making careful examination of everything, and discussing the +probability of the Whispers heard in the courtyard above emanating from +that hidden chamber. + +For what purpose was the place used, and by whom? In all probability it +was the very chamber in which Cardinal Setoun had been treacherously +done to death. + +Though they made a most minute investigation they discovered nothing +further. Up to a certain point their explorations had been crowned by +success, yet the discovery rather tended to increase the mystery than +diminish it. + +That the Whispers were supernatural Gabrielle had all along refused to +believe. The question was, to what use that secret chamber was put? + +At last, more puzzled than ever, the pair, having extinguished the +candles, emerged again into the light of day, closing and latching the +little door after them. + +Then, following the narrow secret path, they found that it wound through +the bushes, and emerged by a circuitous way some distance along the +glen, its entrance being carefully concealed by a big lichen-covered +boulder which hid it from any one straying there by accident. So near +was it to the house, and so well concealed, that no keeper had ever +discovered it. + +"Well," declared Gabrielle, "we've certainly made a most interesting +discovery this morning. But I wonder if it really does solve the mystery +of the Whispers?" + +"Scarcely," Walter admitted. "We have yet to discover to whom the secret +of the existence of that chamber is known. No doubt the Whispers are +heard above through the crack in the roof. Therefore, at present, we had +better keep our knowledge strictly to ourselves." + +And to this the girl, of course, agreed. + +They found Sir Henry seated alone in the sunshine in one of the big +bay-windows of the drawing-room, a pathetic figure, with his blank, +bespectacled countenance turned towards the light, and his fingers +busily knitting to employ the time which, alas! hung so heavily upon his +hands. + +Truth to tell, with Flockart's influence upon him, he was not quite +convinced of the sincerity of either Gabrielle or Walter Murie. +Therefore, when they entered, and his daughter spoke to him; his +greeting was not altogether cordial. + +"Why, dear dad, how is it you're sitting here all alone? I would have +gone for a walk with you had I known." + +"I'm expecting Goslin," was the old man's snappy reply. "He left Paris +yesterday, and should certainly have been here by this time. I can't +make out why he hasn't sent me a 'wire' explaining the delay." + +"He may have lost his connection in London," Murie suggested. + +"Perhaps so," remarked the Baronet with a sigh, his fingers moving +mechanically. + +Murie could see that he was unnerved and unlike himself. He, of course, +was unaware of the great interests depending upon the theft of those +papers from his safe. But the old man was anxious to hear from Goslin +what had occurred at the urgent meeting of the secret syndicate in +Paris. + +Gabrielle was chatting gaily with her father in an endeavour to cheer +him up, when suddenly the door opened, and Flockart, still in his +travelling ulster, entered, exclaiming, "Good-morning, Sir Henry." + +"Why, my dear Flockart, this is really quite unexpected. I--I thought +you were abroad," cried the Baronet, his face brightening as he +stretched out his hand for his visitor to grasp. + +"So I have been. I only got back to town yesterday morning, and left +Euston last night." + +"Well," said Sir Henry, "I'm very glad you are here again. I've missed +you very much--very much indeed. I hope you'll make another long stay +with us at Glencardine." + +The man addressed raised his eyes to Gabrielle's. + +She looked him straight in the face, defiant and unflinching. The day of +her self-sacrifice to protect her helpless father's honour and welfare +had come. She had suffered much in silence--suffered as no other girl +would suffer; but she had tried to conceal the bitter truth. Her spirit +had been broken. She was obsessed by one fear, one idea. + +For a moment the girl held her breath. Walter saw the sudden change in +her countenance, and wondered. + +Then, with a calmness that was surprising, she turned to her father, and +in a clear, distinct voice said, "Dad, now that Mr. Flockart has +returned, I wish to tell you the truth concerning him--to warn you that +he is not your friend, but your very worst enemy!" + +"What is that you say?" cried the man accused, glaring at her. "Repeat +those words, and I will tell the whole truth about yourself--here, +before your lover!" + +The blind man frowned. He hated scenes. "Come, come," he urged, "please +do not quarrel. Gabrielle, I think, dear, your words are scarcely fair +to our friend." + +"Father," she said firmly, her face pale as death, "I repeat them. That +man standing there is as much your enemy as he is mine!" + +Flockart laughed satirically. "Then I will tell my story, and let your +father judge whether you are a worthy daughter," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +IN WHICH GABRIELLE TELLS A STRANGE STORY + + +Gabrielle fell back in fear. Her handsome countenance was blanched to +the lips. This man intended to speak--to tell the terrible truth--and +before her lover too! She clenched her hands and summoned all her +courage. + +Flockart laughed at her--laughed in triumph. "I think, Gabrielle," he +said, "that you should put an end to this deceit towards your poor blind +father." + +"What do you mean?" cried Walter in a fury, advancing towards Flockart. +"What has this question--whatever it is--to do with you? Is it your +place to stand between father and daughter?" + +"Yes," answered the other in cool defiance, "it is. I am Sir Henry's +friend." + +"His friend! His enemy!" + +"You are not my father's friend, Mr. Flockart," declared the girl, +noticing the look of pain upon the afflicted old gentleman's face. "You +have all along conspired against him for years, and you are actually +conspiring with Lady Heyburn at this moment." + +"You lie!" he cried. "You say this in order to shield yourself. You know +that your mother and I are aware of your crime, and have always shielded +you." + +"Crime!" gasped Walter Murie, utterly amazed. "What is this man saying, +dearest?" + +But the girl stood, blanched and rigid, her jaw set, unable to utter a +word. + +"Let me tell you briefly," Flockart went on. "Lady Heyburn and myself +have been this girl's best friends; but now I must speak openly, in +defence of the allegation she is making against me." + +"Yes, speak!" urged Sir Henry. "Speak and tell me the truth." + +"It is a painful truth, Sir Henry; would that I were not compelled to +make such a charge. Your daughter deliberately killed a young girl named +Edna Bryant. She poisoned her on account of jealousy." + +"Impossible!" cried Sir Henry, starting up. "I--I can't believe it, +Flockart. What are you saying? My daughter a murderess!" + +"Yes, I repeat my words. And not only that, but Lady Heyburn and myself +have kept her secret until--until now it is imperative that the truth +should be told to you." + +"Let me speak, dad--let me tell you----" + +"No," cried the old man, "I will hear Flockart." And, turning to his +wife's friend, he said hoarsely, "Go on. Tell me the truth." + +"The tragedy took place at a picnic, just before Gabrielle left her +school at Amiens. She placed poison in the girl's wine. Ah, it was a +terrible revenge!" + +"I am innocent!" cried the girl in despair. + +"Remember the letter which you wrote to your mother concerning her. You +told Lady Heyburn that you hated her. Do you deny writing that letter? +Because, if you do, it is still in existence." + +"I deny nothing which I have done," she answered. "You have told my +father this in order to shield yourself. You have endeavoured, as the +coward you are, to prejudice me in his eyes, just as you compelled me to +lie to him when you opened his safe and copied certain of his papers!" + +"You opened the safe!" he protested. "Why, I found you there myself!" + +"Enough!" she exclaimed quite coolly. "I know the dread charge against +me. I know too well the impossibility of clearing myself, especially in +the face of that letter I wrote to Lady Heyburn; but it was you and she +who entrapped me, and who held me in fear because of my inexperience." + +"Tell us the truth, the whole truth, darling," urged Murie, standing at +her side and taking her hand confidently in his. + +"The truth!" she said, in a strange voice as though speaking to herself. +"Yes, let me tell you! I know that it will sound extraordinary, yet I +swear to you, by the love you bear for me, Walter, that the words I am +about to utter are the actual truth." + +"I believe you," declared her lover reassuringly. + +"Which is more than anyone else will," interposed Flockart with a sneer, +but perfectly confident. It was the hour of his triumph. She had defied +him, and he therefore intended to ruin her once and for all. + +The girl was standing pale and erect, one hand grasping the back of a +chair, the other held in her lover's clasp, while her father had risen, +his expressionless face turned towards them, his hand groping until it +touched a small table upon which stood an old punch-bowl full of +sweet-smelling pot-pourri. + +"Listen, dad," she said, heedless of Flockart's remark. "Hear me before +you condemn me. I know that the charge made against me by this man is a +terrible one. God alone knows what I have suffered these last two years, +how I have prayed for deliverance from the hands of this man and his +friends. It happened a few months before I left Amiens. Lady Heyburn, +you'll recollect, rented a pretty flat in the Rue Léonce-Reynaud in +Paris. She obtained permission for me to leave school and visit her for +a few weeks." + +"I recollect perfectly," remarked her father in a low voice. + +"Well, there came many times to visit us an American girl named Bryant, +who was studying art, and who lived somewhere off the Boulevard Michel, +as well as a Frenchman named Felix Krail and an Englishman called +Hamilton." + +"Hamilton!" echoed Murie. "Was his name Edgar Hamilton--my friend?" + +"Yes, the same," was her quiet reply. Then she turned to Murie, and +said, "We all went about a great deal together, for it was summer-time, +and we made many pleasant excursions in the district. Edna Bryant was a +merry, cheerful girl, and I soon grew to be very friendly with her, +until one day Lady Heyburn, when alone with me, repeated in strict +confidence that the girl was secretly devoted to you, Walter." + +"To me!" he cried. "True, I knew a Miss Bryant long ago, but for the +past three years or so have entirely lost sight of her." + +"Lady Heyburn told me that you were very fond of the girl, and this, I +confess, aroused my intense jealousy. I believed that the girl I had +trusted so implicitly was unprincipled and fickle, and that she was +trying to secure the man whom I had loved ever since a child. I had to +return to school, and from there I wrote to Lady Heyburn, who had gone +to Dieppe, a letter saying hard things of the girl, and declaring that I +would take secret revenge--that I would kill her rather than allow +Walter to be taken from me. A month afterwards I again returned to +Paris. That man standing there"--she indicated Flockart--"was living at +the Hôtel Continental, and was a frequent visitor. He told me that it +was well known in London that Walter admired Miss Bryant, a declaration +that I admit drove me half-mad with jealousy." + +"It was a lie!" declared Walter. "I never made love to the girl. I +admired her, that's all." + +"Well," laughed Flockart, "go on. Tell us your version of the affair." + +"I am telling you the truth," she cried, boldly facing him. One day Lady +Heyburn, having arranged a cycling picnic, invited Mr. Hamilton, Mr. +Kratil, Mr. Flockart, Miss Bryant, and myself, and we had a beautiful +run to Chantilly, a distance of about forty kilometres, where we first +made a tour of the old château, and afterwards entered the cool shady +Fôret de Pontarmé. While the others went away to explore the paths in +the splendid wood I was left to spread the luncheon upon the ground, +setting before each place a half-bottle of red wine which I found in the +baskets. Then, when all was ready, I called to them, but there was no +response. They were all out of hearing. I left the spot, and searched +for a full twenty minutes or so before I discovered them. First I found +Mr. Krail and Mr. Flockart strolling together smoking, while the others +were on ahead. They had lost their way among the trees. I led them back +to the spot where luncheon was prepared; and, all of us being hungry, we +quickly sat down, chatting and laughing merrily. Of a sudden Miss Bryant +stared straight before her, dropped her glass, and threw up her arms. +'Heavens! Why--ah, my throat!' she shrieked. 'I--I'm poisoned!' + +"In an instant all was confusion. The poor girl could not breathe. She +tore at her throat, while her face became convulsed. We obtained water +for her, but it was useless, for within five minutes she was stretched +rigid upon the grass, unconscious, and a few moments later she was +still--quite dead! Ah, shall I ever forget the scene! The effect +produced upon us was appalling. All was so sudden, so tragic, so +horrible! + +"Lady Heyburn was the first to speak. 'Gabrielle,' she said, 'what have +you done? You have carried out the secret revenge which in your letter +you threatened!' I saw myself trapped. Those people had some motive in +killing the girl and placing this crime upon myself! I could not speak, +for I was too utterly dumfounded." + +"The fiends!" ejaculated Walter fiercely. + +"Then followed a hurried consultation, in which Krail showed himself +most solicitous on my behalf," the pale-faced girl went on. "Aided by +Flockart, I think, he scraped away a hole in a pit full of dead leaves, +and there the body must have been concealed just as it was. To me they +all took a solemn vow to keep what they declared to be my secret. The +bottle containing the wine from which the poor American girl had drunk +was broken and hidden, the plates and food swiftly packed up, and we at +once fled from the scene of the tragedy. With Krail wheeling the girl's +empty cycle, we reached the high road, where we all mounted and rode +back in silence to Paris. Ah, shall I ever rid myself of the memory of +that fatal afternoon?" she cried as she paused for breath. + +"Fearing that he might be noticed taking along the empty cycle, Krail +threw it into the river near Valmondois," she went on. "Arrived back at +the Rue Léonce-Reynaud, I protested that nothing had been introduced +into the wine. But they declared that, owing to my youth and the +terrible scandal it would cause if I were arrested, they would never +allow the matter to pass their lips, Mr. Hamilton, indeed, making the +extraordinary declaration that such a crime had extenuating +circumstances when love was at stake. I then saw that I had fallen the +victim of some clever conspiracy; but so utterly overcome was I by the +awful scene that I could make but faint protest. + +"Ah! think of my horrible position--accused of a crime of which I was +entirely innocent! The days slipped on, and I was sent back to Amiens, +and in due course came home here to dear old Glencardine. From that day +I have lived in constant fear, until on the night of the ball at +Connachan--you remember the evening, dad?--on that night Mr. Flockart +returned in secret, beckoned me out upon the lawn, and showed me +something which held me petrified in fear. It was a cutting from an +Edinburgh paper that evening reporting that two of the forest-guards at +Pontarmé had discovered the body of the missing Miss Bryant, and that +the French police were making active inquiries." + +"He threatened you?" asked Walter. + +"He told me to remain quiet, and that he and Lady Heyburn would do their +best to shield me. For that reason, dad," she went on, turning to the +blind man, "for that reason I feared to denounce him when I discovered +him with your safe open, for that reason I was compelled to take all the +blame and all your anger upon myself." + +The old man's brow knit. "Where is my wife?" he asked. "I must speak to +her before we go further. This is a very serious matter." + +"Lady Heyburn is still at Park Street," Flockart replied. + +"I will hear no more," declared the blind Baronet, holding up his hand, +"not another word until my wife is present." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +INCREASES THE INTEREST + + +"But, dad," cried Gabrielle, "I am telling you the truth! Cannot you +believe me, your daughter, before this man who is your enemy?" + +"Because of my affliction I am, it seems, deceived by every one," was +his hard response. + +To where they stood had come the sound of wheels upon the gravelled +drive outside, and a moment later Hill entered, announcing, "A gentleman +to see you very urgently, Sir Henry. He is from Baron de Hetzendorf." + +"From the Baron!" gasped the blind man. "I'll see him later." + +"Why, it may be Hamilton!" cried Murie; who, looking through the door, +saw his old friend in the corridor, and quickly called him in. + +As he faced Flockart he drew himself up. The attitude of them all made +it apparent to him that something unusual was in progress. + +"You've arrived at a very opportune moment, Hamilton," Murie said. "You +have met Miss Heyburn before, and also Flockart, I believe, at Lady +Heyburn's, in Paris." + +"Yes, but----" + +"Sir Henry," Walter said in a quiet tone, "this gentleman sent by the +Baron is his secretary, the same Mr. Edgar Hamilton of whom Gabrielle +has just been speaking." + +"Ah, then, perhaps he can furnish us with further facts regarding this +most extraordinary statement of my daughter's," the blind man exclaimed. + +"Gabrielle has just told her father the truth regarding a certain tragic +occurrence in the Forest of Pontarmé. Explain to us all you know, +Edgar." + +"What I know," said Hamilton, "is very quickly told. Has Miss Heyburn +mentioned the man Krail?" + +"Yes, I have told them about him," the girl answered. + +"You have, however, perhaps omitted to mention one or two small facts in +connection with the affair," he said. "Do you not remember how, on that +eventful afternoon in the forest, when searching for us, you first +encountered Krail walking with this man Flockart at some distance from +the others?" + +"Yes, I recollect." + +"And do you remember that when we returned to sit down to luncheon +Flockart insisted that I should take the seat which was afterwards +occupied by the unfortunate Miss Bryant? Do you recollect how I spread a +rug for her at that spot and preferred myself to stand? The reason of +their invitation to me to sit there I did not discover until afterwards. +That wine had been prepared for _me_, not for her." + +"For you!" the girl gasped, amazed. + +"Yes. The plot was undoubtedly this--" + +"There was no plot," protested Flockart, interrupting. "This girl killed +Edna Bryant through intense jealousy." + +"I repeat that there was a foul and ingenious plot to kill me, and to +entrap Miss Heyburn," Hamilton said. "It was, of course, clear that Miss +Heyburn was jealous of the girl, for she had written to her mother +making threats against Miss Bryant's life. Therefore, the plot was that +I should drink the fatal wine, and that Miss Gabrielle should be +declared to be the murderess, she having intended the wine to be +partaken of by the girl she hated with such deadly hatred. The marked +cordiality of Krail and Flockart that I should take that seat aroused +within me some misgivings, although I had never dreamed of this +dastardly and cowardly plot against me--not until I saw the result of +their foul handiwork." + +"It's a lie! You are trying to implicate Krail and myself! The girl is +the only guilty person. She placed the wine there!" + +"She did not!" declared Hamilton boldly. "She was not there when the +bottle was changed by Krail, but I was!" + +"If what you say is true, then you deliberately stood by and allowed the +girl to drink." + +"I watched Krail go to the spot where luncheon was laid out, but could +not see what he did. If I had done so I should have saved the girl's +life. You were a few yards off, awaiting him; therefore you knew his +intentions, and you are as guilty of that girl's tragic death as he." + +"What!" cried Flockart, his eyes glaring angrily, "do you declare, then, +that I am a murderer?" + +"You yourself are the best judge of your own guilt," answered Hamilton +meaningly. + +"I deny that Krail or myself had any hand in the affair." + +"You will have an opportunity of making that denial in a criminal court +ere long," remarked the Baron's secretary with a grim smile. + +"What," gasped Lady Heyburn's friend, his cheeks paling in an instant, +"have you been so indiscreet as to inform the police?" + +"I have--a week ago. I made a statement to M. Hamard of the Sûreté in +Paris, and they have already made a discovery which you will find of +interest and somewhat difficult to disprove." + +"And pray what is that?" + +Hamilton smiled again, saying, "No, my dear sir, the police will tell +you themselves all in due course. Remember, you and your precious friend +plotted to kill me." + +"But why, Mr. Hamilton?" inquired the blind man. "What was their +motive?" + +"A very strong one," was the reply. "I had recognised in Krail a man who +had defrauded the Baron de Hetzendorf of fifty thousand kroners, and for +whom the police were in active search, both for that and for several +other serious charges of a similar character. Krail knew this, and he +and his friend--this gentleman here--had very ingeniously resolved to +get rid of me by making it appear that Miss Gabrielle had poisoned me by +accident." + +"A lie!" declared Flockart fiercely, though his efforts to remain +imperturbed were now palpable. + +"You will be given due opportunity of disproving my allegations," +Hamilton said. "You, coward that you are, placed the guilt upon an +innocent, inexperienced girl. Why? Because, with Lady Heyburn's +connivance, you with your cunning accomplice Krail were endeavouring to +discover Sir Henry's business secrets in order, first, to operate upon +the valuable financial knowledge you would thus gain, and so make a big +_coup_; and, secondly, when you had done this, it was your intention to +expose the methods of Sir Henry and his friends. Ah! don't imagine that +you and Krail have not been very well watched of late," laughed +Hamilton. + +"Do you allege, then, that Lady Heyburn is privy to all this?" asked the +blind man in distress. + +"It is not for me to judge, sir," was Hamilton's reply. + +"I know! I know how I have been befooled!" cried the poor helpless man, +"befooled because I am blind!" + +"Not by me, Sir Henry," protested Flockart. + +"By you and by every one else," he cried angrily. "But I know the truth +at last--the truth how my poor little daughter has been used as an +instrument by you in your nefarious operations." + +"But----" + +"Hear me, I say!" went on the old man. "I ask my daughter to forgive me +for misjudging her. I now know the truth. You obtained by some means a +false key to my safe, and you copied certain documents which I had +placed there in order to entrap any who might seek to learn my secrets. +You fell into that trap, and though I confess I thought that Gabrielle +was the culprit, on Murie's behalf, I only lately found out that you and +your accomplice Krail were in Greece endeavouring to profit by knowledge +obtained from here, my private house." + +"Krail has been living in Auchterarder of late, it appears," Hamilton +remarked, "and it is evidently he who, gaining access to the house one +night recently, used his friend's false key, and obtained those +confidential Russian documents from your safe." + +"No doubt," declared Sir Henry. Then, again addressing Flockart, he +asked, "Where are those documents which you and your scoundrelly +accomplice have stolen, and for the return of which you are trying to +make me pay?" + +"I don't know anything about them," answered Flockart sullenly, his face +livid. + +"He'll know more about them when he is taken off by the two detectives +from Edinburgh who hold the extradition warrant," Hamilton remarked with +a grim smile. + +The fellow started at those words. His demeanour was that of a guilty +man. "What do you mean?" he gasped, white as death. "You--you intend to +give me into custody? If you do, I warn you that Lady Heyburn will +suffer also." + +"She, like Miss Gabrielle, has only been your tool," Hamilton declared. +"It was she who, under compulsion, has furnished you with means for +years, and whose association with you has caused something little short +of a scandal. Times without number she has tried to get rid of you and +your evil influence in this household, but you have always defied her. +Now," he said firmly, looking the other straight in the face, "you have +upon you those stolen documents which you have, by using an assumed name +and a false address, offered to sell back to their owner, Sir Henry. You +have threatened that if they are not purchased at the exorbitant price +you demand you will sell them to the Russian Ministry of Finance. That +is the way you treat your friend and benefactor, the man who is blind +and helpless! Come, give them back to Sir Henry, and at once." + +"You must ask Krail," stammered the man, now so cornered that all +further excuse or denial had become impossible. + +"That's unnecessary. I happen to know that those papers are in your +pocket at this moment, a fact which shows how watchful an eye we've been +keeping upon you of late. You have brought them here so that your friend +Krail may come to terms with Sir Henry for their repossession. He +arrived from London with you, and is at the 'Strathavon Arms' in the +village, where he stayed before, and is well known." + +"Flockart," demanded the blind man very seriously, "you have papers in +your possession which are mine. Return them to me." + +A dead silence fell. All eyes save those of Sir Henry were turned upon +the man who until that moment had stood so defiant and so full of +sarcasm. But in an instant, at mention of Krail's presence in +Auchterarder, his demeanour had suddenly changed. He was full of alarm. + +"Give them to me and leave my house," Sir Henry said, holding up his +thin white hand. + +"I--I will--on one condition: if I may be allowed to go." + +"We shall not prevent you leaving," was the Baronet's calm reply. + +The man fumbled nervously in the inner pocket of his coat, and at last +brought out a sealed and rather bulgy foolscap envelope. + +"Open it, Gabrielle, and see what is within," her father said. + +She obeyed, and in a few moments explained the various documents it +contained. + +"Then let the man go," her father said. + +"But, Sir Henry," cried Hamilton, "I object to this! Krail is down in +the village forming a plot to make you pay for the return of those +papers. He arrived from London by the same train as this man. If we +allow him to leave he will inform his accomplice, and both will escape." + +Murie had his back to the door, the long window on the opposite side of +the room being closed. + +"It was a promise of Sir Henry's," declared the unhappy adventurer. + +"Which will be observed when Krail has been brought face to face with +Sir Henry," answered Murie, at the same time calling Hill and one of the +gardeners who chanced to be working on the lawn outside. + +Then, with a firmness which showed that they were determined, Hamilton +and Murie conducted Flockart to a small upstairs room, where Hill and +the gardener, with the assistance of Stewart, who happened to have come +into the kitchen, mounted guard over him. + +His position, once the honoured guest at Glencardine, was the most +ignominious conceivable. But Sir Henry sat in gratification that at +least he had got back those documents and saved the reputation of his +friend Volkonski, as well as that of his co-partners. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +"THAT MAN'S VOICE!" + + +Stokes the chauffeur had driven Murie and Hamilton in the car down to +the village, where the last-named, after a conversation with the police +inspector, went to the "Strathavon Arms," together with two constables +who happened to be off duty, in plain clothes. + +They found Krail sitting in the bar, calmly smoking, awaiting a message +from his accomplice. + +Upon Hamilton's recognition he was, after a brief argument, arrested on +the charge of theft from Glencardine, placed in the car between the two +stalwart Scotch policemen, and conveyed in triumph to the castle, much, +of course, against his will. He demanded to be taken straight to the +police station; but as Sir Henry had ordered him to be brought to +Glencardine, and as Sir Henry was a magistrate, the inspector was bound +to obey his orders. + +The man's cruel, colourless eyes seemed to contract closer as he sat in +the car with his enemy Hamilton facing him. He had never dreamed that +they would ever meet again; but, now they had, he saw that the game was +up. There was no hope of escape. He was being taken to meet Sir Henry +Heyburn, the very last man in all the world he wished to face. His +sallow countenance was drawn, his lips were thin and bloodless, and upon +his cheeks were two red spots which showed that he was now in a deadly +terror. + +Gabrielle, who had been weeping at the knees of her father, heard the +whirr of the car coming up the drive; and, springing to the window, +witnessed the arrival of the party. + +A moment later, Krail, between the two constables, and with the local +inspector standing respectfully at the rear, stood in the big, long +library into which the blind man was led by his daughter. + +When all had assembled, Sir Henry, in a clear, distinct voice, said, "I +have had you arrested and brought here in order to charge you with +stealing certain documents from my safe yonder, which you opened by +means of a duplicate key. Your accomplice Flockart has given evidence +against you; therefore, to deny it is quite needless." + +"Whatever he has said to you is lies," the foreigner replied, his accent +being the more pronounced in his excitement. "I know nothing about it." + +"If you deny that," exclaimed Hamilton quickly, "you will perhaps also +deny that it was you who secretly poisoned Miss Bryant in the Pontarmé +Forest, even though I myself saw you at the spot; and, further, that a +witness has been found who actually saw you substitute the wine-bottles. +You intended to kill me!" + +"What ridiculous nonsense you are talking!" cried the accused, who was +dressed with his habitual shabby gentility. "The girl yonder, +mademoiselle, killed Miss Bryant." + +"Then why did you make that deliberate attempt upon my life at +Fotheringhay?" demanded the girl boldly. "Had it not been for Mr. +Hamilton, who must have seen us together and guessed that you intended +foul play, I should certainly have been drowned." + +"He believed that you knew his secret, and he intended, both on his own +behalf and on Flockart's also, to close your lips," Murie said. "With +you out of the way, their attitude towards your father would have been +easier; but with you still a living witness there was always danger to +them. He thought your death would be believed to be suicide, for he knew +your despondent state of mind." + +Sir Henry stood near the window, his face sphinx-like, as though turned +to stone. + +"She fell in," was his lame excuse. + +"No, you threw me in!" declared the girl. "But I have feared you until +now, and I therefore dared not to give information against you. Ah, God +alone knows how I have suffered!" + +"You dare now, eh?" he snarled, turning quickly upon her. + +"It really does not matter what you deny or what you admit," Hamilton +remarked. "The French authorities have applied for your extradition to +France, and this evening you will be on your way to the extradition +court at Bow Street, charged with a graver offence than the burglary at +this house. The Sûreté of Paris make several interesting allegations +against you--or against Felix Gerlach, which is your real name." + +"Gerlach!" cried the blind man in a loud voice, groping forward. "Ah," +he shrieked, "then I was not mistaken when--when I thought I recognised +the voice! That man's voice! _Yes, it is his--his!_" + +In an instant Krail had sprung forward towards the blind and defenceless +man, but his captors were fortunately too quick and prevented him. Then, +at the inspector's orders, a pair of steel bracelets were quickly placed +upon his wrists. + +"Gerlach! Felix Gerlach!" repeated the blind Baronet as though to +himself, as he heard the snap of the lock upon the prisoner's wrists. + +The fellow burst out into a peal of harsh, discordant laughter. He was +endeavouring to retain a defiant attitude even then. + +"You apparently know this man, dad?" Gabrielle exclaimed in surprise. + +"Know him!" echoed her father hoarsely. "Know Felix Gerlach! Yes, I have +bitter cause to remember the man who stands there before you accused of +the crime of murder." + +Then he paused, and drew a long breath. + +"I unmasked him once, as a thief and a swindler, and he swore to be +avenged," said the Baronet in a bitter voice. "It was long ago. He came +to me in London and offered me a concession which he said he had +obtained from the Ottoman Government for the construction of a railroad +from Smyrna to the Bosphorus. The documents appeared to be all right and +in order, and after some negotiations he sold the concession to me and +received ten thousand pounds in cash of the purchase-money in advance. A +week afterwards I discovered that, though the concession had been +granted by the Minister of Public Works at the Sublime Porte, it had +been sold to the Eckmann Group in Vienna, and that the papers I held +were merely copies with forged signatures and stamps. I applied to the +police, this man was arrested in Hamburg, and brought back to London, +where he was tried, and, a previous conviction having been proved +against him, sent to penal servitude for seven years. In the dock at the +Old Bailey he swore to be avenged upon me and upon my family." + +"And he seems to have kept his word," Walter remarked. + +"When he came out of prison he found me in the zenith of my political +career," Sir Henry went on. "On that well-remembered night of my speech +at the Albert Hall I can only surmise that he went there, heard me, and +probably became fiercely resentful that he had found a man cleverer than +himself. The fact remains that he must have gone in a cab in front of my +carriage to Park Street, alighted before me, and secreted himself within +the portico. It was midnight, and the street was deserted. My carriage +stopped, I got out, and it then drove on to the mews. I was in the act +of opening the door with my latch-key when, by an unknown hand, there +was flung full into my eyes some corrosive fluid which burned terribly, +and caused me excruciating pain. I heard a man's exultant voice cry, +'There! I promised you that, and you have it!' The voice I recognised as +that of the blackguard standing before you. Since that moment," he added +in a blank, hoarse voice, "I have been totally blind!" + +"You got me seven years!" cried the foreigner with a harsh laugh, "so +think yourself very lucky that I didn't kill you." + +"You placed upon me an affliction, a perpetual darkness, that to a man +like myself is almost akin to death," replied his accuser very gravely. +"Secure from recognition, you wormed yourself into the confidence of my +wife, for you were bent upon ruining her also; and you took as partner +in your schemes that needy adventurer Flockart. I now see it all quite +plainly. Hamilton had recognised you as Gerlach, and you therefore +formed a plot to get rid of him and throw the crime upon my poor +unfortunate daughter, even though she was scarcely more than a child. In +all probability, Lady Heyburn, in telling the girl the story regarding +Murie and Miss Bryant, believed it, and if so she would also suspect my +daughter to be the actual criminal." + +"This is all utterly astounding, dad!" cried Gabrielle. "If you knew who +it was who deliberately blinded you, why didn't you prosecute him?" + +"Because there was no witness of his dastardly act, my child. And I +myself never saw him. Therefore I was compelled to remain in silence, +and allow the world to believe my affliction due to natural causes," was +his blank response. + +The sallow-faced foreigner laughed again, laughed in the face of the man +whose eyesight he had so deliberately taken. He could not speak. What +had he to say? + +"Well," remarked Hamilton, "we have at least the satisfaction of knowing +that both this man and his accomplice will stand their trial for their +heartless crime in France, and that they will meet their just punishment +according to the laws of God and of man." + +"And I," added Walter, in a voice broken by emotion, as he again took +Gabrielle's hand tenderly, "have the supreme satisfaction of knowing +that my darling is cleared of a foul, dastardly, and terrible charge." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +CONTAINS THE CONCLUSION + + +After long consultation--Krail having been removed in custody back to +the village--it was agreed that the only charges that could be +substantiated against Flockart were those of complicity in the ingenious +attempt upon Hamilton's life by which poor Miss Bryant had been +sacrificed, and also in the theft of Sir Henry's papers. + +But was it worth while? + +At the Baronet's suggestion, he was allowed freedom to leave the +upstairs room where he had been detained by the three stalwart servants; +and, without waiting to speak to any one, he had made his way down the +drive. He had, as was afterwards found, left Auchterarder Station for +London an hour later. + +The painful impression produced upon everybody by Sir Henry's statement +of what had actually occurred on the night of the great meeting at the +Albert Hall having somewhat subsided, Murie mentioned to the blind man +the legend of the Whispers, and also the curious discovery which +Gabrielle and he had made earlier in the morning. + +"Ah," laughed the old gentleman a trifle uneasily, "and so you've +discovered the truth at last, eh?" + +"The truth--no!" Murie said. "That is just what we are so very anxious +to hear from you, Sir Henry." + +"Well," he said, "you may rest your minds perfectly content that there's +nothing supernatural about them. It was to my own advantage to cause +weird reports and uncanny legends to be spread in order to preserve my +secret, the secret of the Whispers." + +"But what is the secret, Sir Henry?" asked Hamilton eagerly. "We, +curiously enough, have similar Whispers at Hetzendorf. I've heard them +myself at the old château." + +"And of course you have believed in the story which my good friend the +Baron has caused to be spread, like myself: the legend that those who +hear them die quickly and suddenly," said the old man, with a smile upon +his grey face. "Like myself, he wished to keep away all inquisitive +persons from the spot." + +"But why?" asked Murie. + +"Well, truth to tell, the reason is very simple," he answered. "As we +are speaking here in the strictest privacy, I will tell you something +which I beg that neither of you will repeat. If you do it might result +in my ruin." + +Murie, Hamilton, and Gabrielle all gave their promise. + +"Then it is this," he said. "I am head of a group of the leading +financial houses in Europe, who, remaining secret, are carrying on +business in the guise of an unimportant house in Paris. The members of +the syndicate are all of them men of enormous financial strength, +including Baron de Hetzendorf, to whom our friend Hamilton here acts as +confidential secretary. The strictest secrecy is necessary for the +success of our great undertakings, which I may add are perfectly honest +and legitimate. Yet never, unless absolutely imperative, do we entrust +documents or letters to the post. Like the house of Rothschild, we have +our confidential messengers, and hold frequent meetings, no 'deal' being +undertaken without we are all of us in full accord. Monsieur Goslin acts +as confidential messenger, and brings me the views of my partners in +Paris, Petersburg, and Vienna. To this careful concealment of our plans, +or of the fact that we are ever in touch with one another, is due the +huge successes we have made from time to time--successes which have +staggered the Bourses of the Continent and caused amazement in Wall +Street. But being unfortunately afflicted as I am, I naturally cannot +travel to meet the others, and, besides, we are compelled always to take +fresh and most elaborate precautions in order to conceal the fact that +we are in connection with each other. If that one fact ever leaked out +it would at once stultify our endeavours and weaken our position. Hence, +at intervals, two or even three of my partners travel here, and I meet +them at night in the little chamber which you, Walter, discovered +to-day, and which until the present has never been found, owing to the +weird fables I have invented regarding the Whispers. To Hetzendorf, too, +once or twice a year, perhaps, the members pay a secret visit in order +to consult the Baron, who, as you perhaps may know, unfortunately enjoys +very precarious health." + +"Then meetings of Frohnmeyer, Volkonski, and the rest were held here in +secret sometimes?" echoed Hamilton in surprise. + +"On certain occasions, when it is absolutely necessary that I should +meet them," answered Sir Henry. "They stay at the Station Hotel in +Perth, coming over to Auchterarder by the last train at night and +leaving by the first train in the morning from Crieff Junction. They +never approach the house, for fear that servants or one or other of the +guests may recognise them, but go separately along the glen and up the +path to the ruins. When we thus meet, our voices can be heard through +the crack in the roof of the chamber in the courtyard above. On such +occasions I take good care that Stewart and his men are sent on a false +alarm of poachers to another part of the estate, while I can find my way +there myself with my stick," he laughed. "The Baron, I believe, acts on +the same principle at his château in Hungary." + +"Well," declared Hamilton, "so well has the Baron kept the secret that I +have never had any suspicion until this moment. By Jove! the invention +of the Whispers was certainly a clever mode of preserving the secret, +for nobody cares deliberately to court disaster and death, especially +among a superstitious populace like the villagers here and the Hungarian +peasantry." + +Both Gabrielle and her lover expressed their astonishment, the latter +remarking how cleverly the weird legend of the Whispers invented by Sir +Henry had been made to fit historical fact. + + * * * * * + +When the eight o'clock train from Stirling stopped at Auchterarder +Station that evening, a tall, well-dressed man alighted, and inquired +his way to the police-station. The porter knew by his accent that he was +a Londoner, but did not dream that he was "a gentleman from Scotland +Yard." + +Half an hour later, after a chat with the rural inspector, the pair went +along to the cell behind the small village police-station in order that +the stranger should read over to the prisoner the warrant he had brought +with him from London--the application of the French police for the +arrest and extradition of Felix Gerlach, _alias_ Krail, _alias_ Benoist, +for the wilful murder of Edna Mary Bryant in the Forest of Pontarmé, +near Chantilly. + +The inspector had related to the London detective the dramatic scene up +at Glencardine that day, and the officer of the Criminal Investigation +Department walked along to the cell much interested to see what manner +of man was this, who was even more bold and ingenious in his criminal +methods than many with whom his profession brought him daily into +contact. He had hoped that he himself would have the credit of making +the arrest, but found that the man wanted had already been apprehended +on the charge of burglary at Glencardine. + +The inspector unlocked the door and threw it open, but next instant the +startling truth became plain. + +Felix Krail lay dead upon the flagstones. He had taken his life by +poison--probably the same poison he had placed in the wine at the fatal +picnic--rather than face his accuser and bear his just punishment. + + * * * * * + +Many months have now passed. A good deal has occurred since that +never-to-be-forgotten day, but it is all quickly related. + +James Flockart, unmasked as he has been, never dared to return. The last +heard of him was six months ago, in Honduras, where for the first time +in his life he had been compelled to work for his living, and had, three +weeks after landing, succumbed to fever. + +At Sir Henry's urgent request, his wife came back to Glencardine a week +after the tragic end of Gerlach, and was compelled to make full +confession how, under the man's sinister influence, both she and +Flockart had been forced to act. To her husband she proved beyond all +doubt that she had been in complete ignorance of the truth concerning +the affair in the Pontarmé Forest until long afterwards. She had at +first believed Gabrielle guilty of the deed, but when she learned the +truth and saw how deeply she had been implicated it was impossible for +her then to withdraw. + +With a whole-hearted generosity seldom found in men, Sir Henry, after +long reflection and a desperate struggle with himself, forgave her, and +now has the satisfaction of knowing that she prefers quiet, healthful +Glencardine to the social gaieties of Park Street, Paris, or San Remo, +while she and Gabrielle have lately become devoted to each other. + +The secret syndicate, with Sir Henry Heyburn at its head, still +operates, for no word of its existence has leaked out to either +financial circles or to the public, while the Whispers of Glencardine +are still believed in and dreaded by the whole countryside across the +Ochils. + +Edgar Hamilton, though compelled to return to the Baron, whose right +hand he is, often travels to Glencardine with confidential messages, and +documents for signature, and is, of course, an ever-welcome guest. + +The unpretentious house of Lénard et Morellet of Paris now and then +effects deals so enormous that financial circles are staggered, and the +world stands amazed. The true facts of who is actually behind that +apparently unimportant firm are, however, still rigorously and +ingeniously concealed. + +Who would ever dream that that quiet, grey-faced man with the sightless +eyes, living far away up in Scotland, passing his hours of darkness with +his old bronze seals or his knitting, was the brain which directed their +marvellously successful operations! + +The Laird of Connachan died quite suddenly about seven months ago, and +Walter Murie succeeded to the noble estate. Gabrielle--sweet, almost +child-like in her simple tastes and delightful charm, and more devoted +to Walter than ever--is now little Lady Murie, having been married in +Edinburgh a month ago. + +At the moment that I pen these final lines the pair are spending a +blissful honeymoon at the great old château of Hetzendorf, high up above +the broad-flowing Danube, the Baron having kindly vacated the place and +put it at their disposal for the summer. Happy in each other's love and +mutual trust, they spend the long blissful days in company, wandering +often hand in hand, for when Walter looks into those wonderful eyes of +hers he sees mirrored there a perfect and abiding affection such as is +indeed given few men to possess. + +Together they have in secret explored the ruins of the ancient +stronghold, and, by directions given them by the Baron, have found there +a stone chamber by no means dissimilar to that at Glencardine. + +Meanwhile, Sir Henry Heyburn, impatient for his beloved daughter to be +again near him and to assist him, passes his weary hours with his +favourite hobby; his wife, full of sympathy, bearing him company. From +her, however, he still withholds one secret, and one only--the Secret of +the House of Whispers. + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10718 *** diff --git a/old/10718-8.txt b/old/10718-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..af3cf28 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10718-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10576 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The House of Whispers, by William Le Queux + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + + + + +Title: The House of Whispers + +Author: William Le Queux + +Release Date: January 14, 2004 [eBook #10718] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF WHISPERS*** + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Annika Feilbach, and Project +Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders + + + +THE HOUSE OF WHISPERS + +By + +WILLIAM LE QUEUX + +1910 + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER I +THE LAIRD OF GLENCARDINE + +CHAPTER II +FROM OUT THE NIGHT + +CHAPTER III +SEALS OF DESTINY + +CHAPTER IV +SOMETHING CONCERNING JAMES FLOCKART + +CHAPTER V +THE MURIES OF CONNACHAN + +CHAPTER VI +CONCERNS GABRIELLE'S SECRET + +CHAPTER VII +CONTAINS CURIOUS CONFIDENCES + +CHAPTER VIII +CASTING THE BAIT + +CHAPTER IX +REVEALS A MYSTERIOUS BUSINESS + +CHAPTER X +DECLARES A WOMAN'S LOVE + +CHAPTER XI +CONCERNS THE WHISPERS + +CHAPTER XII +EXPLAINS SOME CURIOUS FACTS + +CHAPTER XIII +WHAT FLOCKART FORESAW + +CHAPTER XIV +CONCERNS THE CURSE OF THE CARDINAL + +CHAPTER XV +FOLLOWS FLOCKART'S FORTUNES + +CHAPTER XVI +SHOWS A GIRL'S BONDAGE + +CHAPTER XVII +DESCRIBES A FRENCHMAN'S VISIT + +CHAPTER XVIII +REVEALS THE SPY + +CHAPTER XIX +SHOWS GABRIELLE DEFIANT + +CHAPTER XX +TELLS OF FLOCKART'S TRIUMPH + +CHAPTER XXI +THROUGH THE MISTS + +CHAPTER XXII +BY THE MEDITERRANEAN + +CHAPTER XXIII +WHICH SHOWS A SHABBY FOREIGNER + +CHAPTER XXIV +"WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK" + +CHAPTER XXV +SHOWS GABRIELLE IN EXILE + +CHAPTER XXVI +THE VELVET PAW + +CHAPTER XXVII +BETRAYS THE BOND + +CHAPTER XXVIII +THE WHISPERS AGAIN + +CHAPTER XXIX +CONTAINS A FURTHER MYSTERY + +CHAPTER XXX +REVEALS SOMETHING TO HAMILTON + +CHAPTER XXXI +DESCRIBES A CURIOUS CIRCUMSTANCE + +CHAPTER XXXII +OUTSIDE THE WINDOW + +CHAPTER XXXIII +IS ABOUT THE MAISON LÉNARD + +CHAPTER XXXIV +SURPRISES MR. FLOCKART + +CHAPTER XXXV +DISCLOSES A SECRET + +CHAPTER XXXVI +IN WHICH GABRIELLE TELLS A STRANGE STORY + +CHAPTER XXXVII +INCREASES THE INTEREST + +CHAPTER XXXVIII +"THAT MAN'S VOICE!" + +CHAPTER XXXIX +CONTAINS THE CONCLUSION + + + + +THE HOUSE OF WHISPERS + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE LAIRD OF GLENCARDINE + +"Why, what's the matter, child? Tell me." + +"Nothing, dad--really nothing." + +"But you are breathing hard; your hand trembles; your pulse beats +quickly. There's something amiss--I'm sure there is. Now, what is it? +Come, no secrets." + +The girl, quickly snatching away her hand, answered with a forced laugh, +"How absurd you really are, dear old dad! You're always fancying +something or other." + +"Because my senses of hearing and feeling are sharper and more developed +than those of other folk perhaps," replied the grey-bearded old +gentleman, as he turned his sharp-cut, grey, but expressionless +countenance to the tall, sweet-faced girl standing beside his chair. + +No second glance was needed to realise the pitiful truth. The man seated +there in his fine library, with the summer sunset slanting across the +red carpet from the open French windows, was blind. + +Since his daughter Gabrielle had been a pretty, prattling child of nine, +nursing her dolly, he had never looked upon her fair face. But he was +ever as devoted to her as she to him. + +Surely his was a sad and lonely life. Within the last fifteen years or +so great wealth had come to him; but, alas! he was unable to enjoy it. +Until eleven years ago he had been a prominent figure in politics and in +society in London. He had sat in the House for one of the divisions of +Hampshire, was a member of the Carlton, and one year he found his name +among the Birthday Honours with a K.C.M.G. For him everybody predicted a +brilliant future. The Press gave prominence to his speeches, and to his +house in Park Street came Cabinet Ministers and most of the well-known +men of his party. Indeed, it was an open secret in a certain circle that +he had been promised a seat in the Cabinet in the near future. + +Then, at the very moment of his popularity, a terrible tragedy had +occurred. He was on the platform of the Albert Hall addressing a great +meeting at which the Prime Minister was the principal speaker. His +speech was a brilliant one, and the applause had been vociferous. Full +of satisfaction, he drove home that night to Park Street; but next +morning the report spread that his brilliant political career had ended. +He had suddenly been stricken by blindness. + +In political circles and in the clubs the greatest consternation was +caused, and some strange gossip became rife. + +It was whispered in certain quarters that the affliction was not +produced by natural causes. In fact, it was a mystery, and one that had +never been solved. The first oculists of Europe had peered into and +tested his eyes, but all to no purpose. The sight had gone for ever. + +Therefore, full of bitter regrets at being thus compelled to renounce +the stress and storm of political life which he loved so well, Sir Henry +Heyburn had gone into strict retirement at Glencardine, his beautiful +old Perthshire home, visiting London but very seldom. + +He was essentially a man of mystery. Even in the days of his universal +popularity the source of his vast wealth was unknown. His father, the +tenth Baronet, had been sadly impoverished by the depreciation of +agricultural property in Lincolnshire, and had ended his days in the +genteel quietude of the Albany. But Sir Henry, without betraying to the +world his methods, had in fifteen years amassed a fortune which people +guessed must be considerably over a million sterling. + +From a life of strenuous activity he had, in one single hour, been +doomed to one of loneliness and inactivity. His friends sympathised, as +indeed the whole British public had done; but in a month the tragic +affair and its attendant mysterious gossip had been forgotten, as in +truth had the very name of Sir Henry Heyburn, whom the Prime Minister, +though his political opponent, had one night designated in the House as +"one of the most brilliant and talented young men who has ever sat upon +the Opposition benches." + +In his declining years the life of this man was a pitiful tragedy, his +filmy eyes sightless, his thin white fingers ever eager and nervous, his +hours full of deep thought and silent immobility. To him, what was the +benefit of that beautiful Perthshire castle which he had purchased from +Lord Strathavon a year before his compulsory retirement? What was the +use of the old ancestral manor near Caistor in Lincolnshire, or the +town-house in Park Street, the snug hunting-box at Melton, or the +beautiful palm-shaded, flower-embowered villa overlooking the blue +southern sea at San Remo? He remembered them all. He had misty visions +of their splendour and their luxury; but since his blindness he had +seldom, if ever, entered them. That big library up in Scotland in which +he now sat was the room he preferred; and with his daughter Gabrielle to +bear him company, to smooth his brow with her soft hand, to chatter and +to gossip, he wished for no other companion. His life was of the past, a +meteor that had flashed and had vanished for ever. + +"Tell me, child, what is troubling you?" he was asking in a calm, kind +voice, as he still held the girl's hand in his. The sweet scent of the +roses from the garden beyond filled the room. + +A smart footman in livery opened the door at that moment, asking, +"Stokes has just returned with the car from Perth, Sir Henry, and asks +if you want him further at present." + +"No," replied his blind master. "Has he brought back her ladyship?" + +"Yes, Sir Henry," replied the man. "I believe he is taking her to the +ball over at Connachan to-night." + +"Oh, yes, of course. How foolish I am! I quite forgot," said the Baronet +with a slight sigh. "Very well, Hill." + +And the clean-shaven young man, with his bright buttons bearing the +chevron _gules_ betwixt three boars' heads erased _sable_, of the +Heyburns, bowed and withdrew. + +"I had quite forgotten the ball at Connachan, dear," exclaimed her +father, stretching out his thin white hand in search of hers again. "Of +course you are going?" + +"No, dad; I'm staying at home with you." + +"Staying at home!" echoed Sir Henry. "Why, my dear Gabrielle, the first +year you're out, and missing the best ball in the county! Certainly not. +I'm all right. I shan't be lonely. A little box came this morning from +the Professor, didn't it?" + +"Yes, dad." + +"Then I shall be able to spend the evening very well alone. The +Professor has sent me what he promised the other day." + +"I've decided not to go," was the girl's firm reply. + +"I fear, dear, your mother will be very annoyed if you refuse," he +remarked. + +"I shall risk that, dear old dad, and stay with you to-night. Please +allow me," she added persuasively, taking his hand in hers and bending +till her red lips touched his white brow. "You have quite a lot to do, +remember. A big packet of papers came from Paris this morning. I must +read them over to you." + +"But your mother, my dear! Your absence will be commented upon. People +will gossip, you know." + +"There is but one person I care for, dad--yourself," laughed the girl +lightly. + +"Perhaps you're disappointed over a new frock or something, eh?" + +"Not at all. My frock came from town the day before yesterday. Elise +declares it suits me admirably, and she's very hard to please, you know. +It's white, trimmed with tiny roses." + +"A perfect dream, I expect," remarked the blind man, smiling. "I wish I +could see you in it, dear. I often wonder what you are like, now that +you've grown to be a woman." + +"I'm like what I always have been, dad, I suppose," she laughed. + +"Yes, yes," he sighed, in pretence of being troubled. "Wilful as always. +And--and," he faltered a moment later, "I often hear your dear dead +mother's voice in yours." Then he was silent, and by the deep lines in +his brow she knew that he was thinking. + +Outside, in the high elms beyond the level, well-kept lawn, with its +grey old sundial, the homecoming rooks were cawing prior to settling +down for the night. No other sound broke the stillness of that quiet +sunset hour save the solemn ticking of the long, old-fashioned clock at +the farther end of the big, book-lined room, with its wide fireplace, +great overmantel of carved stone with emblazoned arms, and its three +long windows of old stained glass which gave it a somewhat +ecclesiastical aspect. + +"Tell me, child," repeated Sir Henry at length, "what was it that upset +you just now?" + +"Nothing, dad--unless--well, perhaps it's the heat. I felt rather unwell +when I went out for my ride this morning," she answered with a frantic +attempt at excuse. + +The blind man was well aware that her reply was but a subterfuge. +Little, however, did he dream the cause. Little did he know that a dark +shadow had fallen upon the young girl's life--a shadow of evil. + +"Gabrielle," he said in a low, intense voice, "why aren't you open and +frank with me as you once used to be? Remember that you, my daughter, +are my only friend!" + +Slim, dainty, and small-waisted, with a sweet, dimpled face, and blue +eyes large and clear like a child's, a white throat, a well-poised head, +and light-chestnut hair dressed low with a large black bow, she +presented the picture of happy, careless youth, her features soft and +refined, her half-bare arms well moulded, and hands delicate and white. +She wore only one ornament--upon her left hand was a small signet-ring +with her monogram engraved, a gift from one of her governesses when a +child, and now worn upon the little finger. + +That face was strikingly beautiful, it had been remarked more than once +in London; but any admiration only called forth the covert sneers of +Lady Heyburn. + +"Why don't you tell me?" urged the blind man. "Why don't you tell me the +truth?" he protested. + +Her countenance changed when she heard his words. In her blue eyes was a +look of abject fear. Her left hand was tightly clenched and her mouth +set hard, as though in resolution. + +"I really don't know what you mean, dad," she responded with a hollow +laugh. "You have such strange fancies nowadays." + +"Strange fancies, child!" echoed the afflicted man, lifting his grey, +expressionless face to hers. "A blind man has always vague, suspicious, +and black forebodings engendered by the darkness and loneliness of his +life. I am no exception," he sighed. "I think ever of the +might-have-beens." + +"No, dear," exclaimed the girl, bending until her lips touched his white +brow softly. "Forget it all, dear old dad. Surely your days here, with +me, quiet and healthful in this beautiful Perthshire, are better, better +by far, than if you had been a politician up in London, ever struggling, +ever speaking, and ever bearing the long hours at the House and the +eternal stress of Parliamentary life?" + +"Yes, yes," he said, just a trifle impatiently. "It is not that. I don't +regret that I had to retire, except--well, except for your sake perhaps, +dear." + +"For my sake! How?" + +"Because, had I been a member of this Cabinet--which some of my friends +predicted--you would have had the chance of a good marriage. But buried +as you are down here instead, what chances have you?" + +"I want no chance, dad," replied the girl. "I shall never marry." + +A painful thought crossed the old man's mind, being mirrored upon his +brow by the deep lines which puckered there for a few brief moments. +"Well," he exclaimed, smiling, "that's surely no reason why you should +not go to the ball at Connachan to-night." + +"I have my duty to perform, dad; my duty is to remain with you," she +said decisively. "You know you have quite a lot to do, and when your +mother has gone we'll spend an hour or two here at work." + +"I hear that Walter Murie is at home again at Connachan. Hill told me +this morning," remarked her father. + +"So I heard also," answered the girl. + +"And yet you are not going to the ball, Gabrielle, eh?" laughed the old +man mischievously. + +"Now come, dad," the girl exclaimed, colouring slightly, "you're really +too bad! I thought you had promised me not to mention him again." + +"So I did, dear; I--I quite forgot," replied Sir Henry apologetically. +"Forgive me. You are now your own mistress. If you prefer to stay away +from Connachan, then do so by all means. Only, make a proper excuse to +your mother; otherwise she will be annoyed." + +"I think not, dear," his daughter replied in a meaning tone. "If I +remain at home she'll be rather glad than otherwise." + +"Why?" inquired the old man quickly. + +The girl hesitated. She saw instantly that her remark was an unfortunate +one. "Well," she said rather lamely, "because my absence will relieve +her of the responsibility of acting as chaperon." + +What else could she say? How could she tell her father--the kindly but +afflicted man to whom she was devoted--the bitter truth? His lonely, +dismal life was surely sufficiently hard to bear without the extra +burden of suspicion, of enforced inactivity, of fierce hatred, and of +bitter regret. So she slowly disengaged her hand, kissed him again, and +with an excuse that she had the menus to write for the dinner-table, +went out, leaving him alone. + +When the door had closed a great sigh sounded through the long, +book-lined room, a sigh that ended in a sob. + +The old man had leaned his chin upon his hands, and his sightless eyes +were filled with tears. "Is it the truth?" he murmured to himself. "Is +it really the truth?" + + + +CHAPTER II + +FROM OUT THE NIGHT + +There are few of the Perthshire castles that more plainly declare their +feudal origin and exhibit traces of obsolete power than does the great +gaunt pile of ruins known as Glencardine. Its situation is both +picturesque and imposing, and the stern aspect of the two square +baronial towers which face the south, perched on a sheer precipice that +descends to the Ruthven Water deep below, shows that the castle was once +the residence of a predatory chief in the days before its association +with the great Montrose. + +Two miles from the long, straggling village of Auchterarder, in the +centre of a fine, well-wooded, well-kept estate, the great ruined castle +stands a silent monument of warlike days long since forgotten. There, +within those walls, now overgrown with ivy and weeds, and where big +trees grow in the centre of what was once the great paved courtyard, +Montrose schemed and plotted, and, according to tradition, kept certain +of his enemies in the dungeons below. + +In the twelfth century the aspect of the deep glen was very different +from what it is to-day. In those days the Ruthven was a broad river, +flowing swiftly down to the Earn, and forming, by reason of a moat, an +effective barrier against attack. To-day, however, the river has +diminished into a mere burn meandering through a beautiful wooded glen +three hundred feet below, a glen the charms of which are well known +throughout the whole of Scotland, and where in summer tourists from +England endeavour to explore, but are warned back by Stewart, Sir +Henry's Highland keeper. + +A quarter of a mile from the great historic ruin is the modern castle, +built mainly of stone from the ancient structure early in the eighteenth +century, with oak-panelled rooms, many quaint gables, stained glass, and +long, echoing corridors--a residence well adapted for entertaining on a +lavish scale, the front overlooking the beautiful glen, and the back +with level lawns and stretch of undulating park, well wooded and full of +picturesque beauty. + +The family traditions and history of the old place and its owners had +induced Sir Henry Heyburn, himself a Fellow of the Society of +Antiquaries, to purchase it from Lord Strathavon, into whose possession +it had passed some forty years previously. + +History showed that William de Graeme or Graham, who settled in Scotland +in the twelfth century, became Lord of Glencardine, and the great castle +was built by his son. They were indeed a noble race, as their biographer +has explained. Ever fearless in their country's cause, they sneered at +the mandates from impregnable Stirling, and were loyal in every +generation. + +Glencardine was a stronghold feared by all the surrounding nobles, and +its men were full of valour and bravery. One story of them is perhaps +worth the telling. In the year 1490 the all-powerful Abbot of Inchaffray +issued an order for the collection of the teinds of the Killearns' lands +possessed by the Grahams of Glencardine in the parish of Monzievaird, of +which he was titular. The order was rigorously executed, the teinds +being exacted by force. + +Lord Killearn of Dunning Castle was from home at the time; but in his +absence his eldest son, William, Master of Dunning, called out a number +of his clansmen, and marched towards Glencardine for the purpose of +putting a stop to the abbot's proceedings. The Grahams of Glencardine, +having been apprised of their neighbour's intention, mustered in strong +force, and marched to meet him. The opposing forces encountered each +other at the north side of Knock Mary, about two miles to the south-west +of Crieff, while a number of the clan M'Robbie, who lived beside the +Loch of Balloch, marched up the south side of the hill, halting at the +top to watch the progress of the combat. The fight began with great fury +on both sides. The Glencardine men, however, began to get the upper hand +and drive their opponents back, when the M'Robbies rushed down the hill +to the succour of the Killearns. The tables were now turned. The Grahams +were unable to maintain their ground against the combined forces which +they had now to face, and fled towards Glencardine, taking refuge in the +Kirk of Monzievaird. The Killearns had no desire to follow up their +success any farther, but at this stage they were joined by Duncan +Campbell of Dunstaffnage, who had come across from Argyllshire to avenge +the death of his father-in-law, Robert of Monzie, who, along with his +two sons, had a short time before been killed by the Lord of +Glencardine. + +An arrow shot from the church fatally wounded one of Campbell's men, and +so enraged were the besiegers at this that they set fire to the +heather-thatched building. Of the one hundred and sixty human beings who +are supposed to have been in the church, only one young lad escaped, and +this was effected by the help of one of the Killearns, who caught the +boy in his arms as he leaped out of the flames. The Killearns did not go +unpunished for their barbarous deed. Their leader, with several of his +chief retainers, was afterwards beheaded at Stirling, and an assessment +was imposed on the Killearns for behoof of the wives and children of the +Grahams who had perished by their hands. + +The Killearn by whose aid the young Graham had been saved was forced to +flee to Ireland, but he afterwards returned to Scotland, where he and +his attendants were known by the name of "Killearn Eirinich" (or +Ernoch), meaning Killearn of Ireland. The estate which he held, and +which is situated near Comrie, still bears that name. The site of the +Kirk of Monzievaird is now occupied by the mausoleum of the family of +Murray of Ochtertyre, which was erected in 1809. When the foundations +were being excavated a large quantity of charred bones and wood was +found. + +The history of Scotland is full of references to the doings at +Glencardine, the fine home of the great Lord Glencardine, and of events, +both in the original stronghold and in the present mansion, which have +had important bearings upon the welfare of the country. + +In the autumn of 1825 the celebrated poetess Baroness Nairne, who had +been born at Gask, a few miles away, visited Glencardine and spent +several weeks in the pleasantest manner. Within those gaunt ruins of the +old castle she first became inspired to write her celebrated "Castell +Gloom," near Dollar: + + Oh Castell Gloom! thy strength is gone, + The green grass o'er thee growin'; + On Hill of Care thou art alone, + The Sorrow round thee flowin'. + + Oh Castell Gloom! on thy fair wa's + Nae banners now are streamin'; + The howlit flits amang thy ha's, + And wild birds there are screamin'. + + Oh, mourn the woe! oh, mourn the crime + Frae civil war that flows! + Oh, mourn, Argyll, thy fallen line, + And mourn the great Montrose! + + The lofty Ochils bright did glow, + Though sleepin' was the sun; + But mornin's light did sadly show + What ragin' flames had done! + Oh, mirk, mirk was the misty cloud + That hung o'er thy wild wood! + Thou wert like beauty in a shroud, + And all was solitude. + +A volume, indeed, could be written upon the history, traditions, and +superstitions of Glencardine Castle, a subject in which its blind owner +took the keenest possible interest. But, tragedy of it all, he had never +seen the lovely old domain he had acquired! Only by Gabrielle's +descriptions of it, as she led him so often across the woods, down by +the babbling burn, or over the great ivy-covered ruins, did he know and +love it. + +Every shepherd of the Ochils knows of the Lady of Glencardine who, on +rare occasions, had been seen dressed in green flitting before the +modern mansion, and who was said to be the spectre of the young Lady +Jane Glencardine, who in 1710 was foully drowned in the Earn by her +jealous lover, the Lord of Glamis, and whose body was never recovered. +Her appearance always boded ill-fortune to the family in residence. + +Glencardine was scarcely ever without guests. Lady Heyburn, a shallow +and vain woman many years younger than her husband, was always +surrounded by her own friends. She hated the country, and more +especially what she declared to be the "deadly dullness" of her +Perthshire home. That moment was no exception. There were half-a-dozen +guests staying in the house, but neither Gabrielle nor her father took +the slightest interest in any of them. They had been, of course, invited +to the ball at Connachan, and at dinner had expressed surprise when +their host's pretty daughter, the belle of the county, had declared that +she was not going. + +"Oh, Gabrielle is really such a wayward child!" declared her ladyship to +old Colonel Burton at her side. "If she has decided not to go, no power +on earth will persuade her." + +"I'm not feeling at all well, mother," the girl responded from the +farther end of the table. "You'll make nice excuses for me, won't you?" + +"I think it's simply ridiculous!" declared the Baronet's wife. "Your +first season, too!" + +Gabrielle glanced round the table, coloured slightly, but said nothing. +The guests knew too well that in the Glencardine household there had +always been, and always would be, slightly strained relations between +her ladyship and her stepdaughter. + +For an hour after dinner all was bustle and excitement; then, in the +covered wagonette, the gay party drove away, while Gabrielle, standing +at the door, shouted after them a merry adieu. + +It was a bright, clear, moonlit night, so beautiful indeed that, +twisting a shawl about her shoulders, she went to her father's den, +where he usually smoked alone, and, taking his arm, led him out for a +walk into the park over that gravelled drive where, upon such nights as +that, 'twas said that the unfortunate Lady Jane could be seen. + +When alone, the sightless man could find his way quite well with the aid +of his stick. He knew every inch of his domain. Indeed, he could descend +from the castle by the winding path that led deep into the glen, and +across the narrow foot-bridges of the rushing Ruthven Water, or he could +traverse the most intricate paths through the woods by means of certain +landmarks which only he himself knew. He was ever fond of wandering +about the estate alone, and often took solitary walks on bright nights +with his stout stick tapping before him. On rare occasions, however, +when, in the absence of her ladyship, he enjoyed the company of pretty +Gabrielle, they would wander in the park arm-in-arm, chatting and +exchanging confidences. + +The departure of their house-party had lifted a heavy weight from both +their hearts. It would be dawn before they returned. She loved her +father, and was never happier than when describing to him things--the +smallest objects sometimes--which he himself could not see. + +As they strolled on beneath the shadows of the tall elms, the stillness +of the night was broken only by the quick scurry of a rabbit into the +tall bracken or the harsh cry of some night-bird startled by their +approach. + +Before them, standing black against the night-sky, rose the quaint, +ponderous, but broken walls of the ancient stronghold, where an owl +hooted weirdly in the ivy, and where the whispering of the waters rose +from the deep below. + +"It's a pity, dear, that you didn't go to the dance," the old man was +saying, her arm held within his own. "You've annoyed your mother, I +fear." + +"Mother is quite happy with her guests, dad; while I am quite happy with +you," she replied softly. "Therefore, why discuss it?" + +"But surely it is not very entertaining for you to remain here with a +man who is blind. Remember, you are young, and these golden days of +youth will very soon pass." + +"Why, you always entertain and instruct me, dad," she declared; "from +you I've learnt so much archaeology and so much about mediaeval seals +that I believe I am qualified to become a Fellow of the Society of +Antiquaries, if women were admitted to fellowship." + +"They will be one day, my dear, if the Suffragettes are allowed their +own way," he laughed. + +And then, during the full hour they strolled together, their +conversation mostly consisted of questions asked by her father +concerning some improvements being made in one of the farms which she +had visited on the previous day, and her description of what had been +done. + +The stable-clock had struck half-past ten on its musical chimes before +they re-entered the big hall, and, being relieved by Hill of the wraps, +passed together into the library, where, from a locked cabinet in a +corner, Gabrielle took a number of business papers and placed them upon +the writing-table before her father. + +"No," he said, running his thin white hands over them, "not business +to-night, dear, but pleasure. Where is that box from the Professor?" + +"It's here, dad. Shall I open it?" + +"Yes," he replied. "That dear old fellow never forgets his old friend. +Never a seal finds its way into the collection at Cambridge but he first +sends it to me for examination before it is catalogued. He knows what +pleasure it is to me to decipher them and make out their +history--almost, alas! the only pleasure left to me, except you, my +darling." + +"Professor Moyes adopts your opinion always, dad. He knows, as every +other antiquary knows, that you are the greatest living authority on the +subject which you have made a lifetime study--that of the bronze seals +of the Middle Ages." + +"Ah!" sighed the old man, "if I could only write my great book! It is +the pleasure debarred me. Years ago I started to collect material; but +my affliction came, and now I can only feel the matrices and picture +them in my mind. I see through your eyes, dear Gabrielle. To me, the +world I loved so much is only a blank darkness, with your dear voice +sounding out of it--the only voice, my child, that is music to my ears." + +The girl said nothing. She only glanced at the sad, expressionless face, +and, cutting the string of the small packet, displayed three bronze +seals--two oval, about two inches long, and the third round, about one +inch in diameter, and each with a small kind of handle on the reverse. +With them were sulphur-casts or impressions taken from them, ready to be +placed in the museum at Cambridge. + +The old man's nervous fingers travelled over the surfaces quickly, an +expression of complete satisfaction in his face. + +"Have you the magnifying-glass, dear? Tell me what you make of the +inscriptions," he said, at the same time carefully feeling the curious +mediaeval lettering of one of the casts. + +At the same instant she started, rose quickly from her chair, and held +her breath. + +A man, tall, dark-faced, and wearing a thin black overcoat, had entered +noiselessly from the lawn by the open window, and stood there, with his +finger upon his lips, indicating silence. Then he pointed outside, with +a commanding gesture that she should follow. + +Her eyes met his in a glance of fierce resentment, and instinctively she +placed her hand upon her breast, as though to stay the beating of her +heart. + +Again he pointed in silent authority, and she as though held in some +mysterious thraldom, made excuse to the blind man, and, rising, followed +in his noiseless footsteps. + + + +CHAPTER III + +SEALS OF DESTINY + +Ten minutes later she returned, panting, her face pale and haggard, her +mouth hard-set. For a moment she stood in silence upon the threshold of +the open doors leading to the grounds, her hand pressed to her breast in +a strenuous endeavour to calm herself. She feared that her father might +detect her agitation, for he was so quick in discovering in her the +slightest unusual emotion. She glanced behind her with an expression +full of fear, as though dreading the reappearance of that man who had +compelled her to follow him out into the night. Then she looked at her +father, who, still seated motionless with his back to her, was busy with +his fingers upon something on the blotting-pad before him. + +In that brief absence her countenance had entirely changed. She was pale +to the lips, with drawn brows, while about her mouth played a hard, +bitter expression, as though her mind were bent upon some desperate +resolve. + +That the man who had come there by stealth was no stranger was evident; +yet that between them was some deep-rooted enmity was equally apparent. +Nevertheless, he held her irresistibly within his toils. His +clean-shaven face was a distinctly evil one. His eyes were set too close +together, and in his physiognomy was something unscrupulous and +relentless. He was not the man for a woman to trust. + +She stepped back from the threshold, and for a few seconds halted +outside, her ears strained to catch any sound. Then, as though +reassured, she pushed the chestnut hair from her hot, fevered brow, held +her breath with strenuous effort, and, re-entering the library, advanced +to her father's side. + +"I wondered where you had gone, dear," he said in his low, calm voice, +as he detected her presence. "I hoped you would not leave me for long, +for it is not very often we enjoy an evening so entirely alone as +to-night." + +"Leave you, dear old dad! Why, of course not!" She laughed gaily, as +though nothing had occurred to disturb her peace of mind. "We were just +about to look at those seals Professor Moyes sent you to-day, weren't +we? Here they are;" and she placed them before the helpless and +afflicted man, endeavouring to remain undisturbed, and taking a chair at +his side, as was her habit when they sat together. + +"Yes," he said cheerfully. "Let us see what they are." + +The first of the yellow sulphur-casts which he examined bore the +full-length figure of an abbot, with mitre and crosier, in the act of +giving his blessing. Behind him were three circular towers with pointed +roofs surmounted by crosses, while around, in bold early Gothic letters, +ran the inscription + ++ S. BENEDITI . ABBATIS . SANTI . AMBROSII . D'RANCIA + + +Slowly and with great care his fingers travelled over the raised letters +and design of the oval cast. Then, having also examined the battered old +bronze matrix, he said, "A most excellent specimen, and in first-class +preservation, too! I wonder where it has been found? In Italy, without +doubt." + +"What do you make it out to be, dad?" asked the girl, seated in the +chair at his side and as interested in the little antiquity as he was +himself. + +"Thirteenth century, my dear--early thirteenth century," he declared +without hesitation. "Genuine, quite genuine, no doubt. The matrix shows +signs of considerable wear. Is there much patina upon it?" he asked. + +She turned it over, displaying that thick green corrosion which bronze +acquires only by great age. + +"Yes, quite a lot, dad. The raised portion at the back is pierced by a +hole very much worn." + +"Worn by the thong by which it was attached to the girdle of successive +abbots through centuries," he declared. "From its inscription, it is the +seal of the Abbot Benedict of the Monastery of St. Ambrose, of Rancia, +in Lombardy. Let me think, now. We should find the history of that house +probably in Sassolini's _Memorials_. Will you get it down, dear?--top +shelf of the fifth case, on the left." + +Though blind, he knew just where he could put his hand upon all his most +cherished volumes, and woe betide any one who put a volume back in its +wrong place! + +Gabrielle rose, and, obtaining the steps, reached down the great +leather-bound quarto book, which she carried to a reading-desk and at +once searched the index. + +The work was in Italian, a language which she knew fairly well; and +after ten minutes or so, during which time the blind man continued +slowly to trace the inscription with his finger-tips, she said, "Here it +is, dad. 'Rancia, near Cremona. The religious brotherhood was founded +there in 1132, and the Abbot Benedict was third abbot, from 1218 to +1231. The church still exists. The magnificent pulpit in marble, +embellished with mosaics, presented in 1272, rests on six columns +supported by lions, with an inscription: "_Nicolaus de Montava +marmorarius hoc opus fecit._" Opposite it is the ambo (1272), in a +simple style, with a representation of Jonah being swallowed by a whale. +In the choir is the throne adorned by mosaics, and the Cappella di San +Pantaleone contains the blood of the saint, together with some relics of +the Abbot Benedict. The cloisters still exist, though, of course, the +monastery is now suppressed.'" + +"And this," remarked Sir Henry, turning over the old bronze seal in his +hand, "belonged to the Abbot Ambrose six hundred and fifty years ago!" + +"Yes, dad," declared the girl, returning to his side and taking the +matrix herself to examine it under the green-shaded reading-lamp. "The +study of seals is most interesting. It carries one back into the dim +ages. I hope the Professor will allow you to keep these casts for your +collection." + +"Yes, I know he will," responded the old Baronet. "He is well aware what +a deep interest I take in my hobby." + +"And also that you are one of the first authorities in the world upon +the subject," added his daughter. + +The old man sighed. Would that he could see with his eyes once again; +for, after all, the sense of touch was but a poor substitute for that of +sight! + +He drew towards him the impression of the second of the oval seals. The +centre was divided into two portions. Above was the half-length figure +of a saint holding a closed book in his hand, and below was a youth with +long hands in the act of adoration. Between them was a scroll upon which +was written: "Sc. Martine O.P.N.," while around the seal were the words +in Gothic characters: + ++ SIGIL . HEINRICHI . PLEBANI . D' DOELSC'H + + +"This is fourteenth century," pronounced the Baronet, "and is from +Dulcigno, on the Adriatic--the seal of Henry, the vicar of the church of +that place. From the engraving and style," he said, still fingering it +with great care, now and then turning to the matrix in order to satisfy +himself, "I should place it as having been executed about 1350. But it +is really a very beautiful specimen, done at a time when the art of +seal-engraving was at its height. No engraver could to-day turn out a +more ornate and at the same time bold design. Moyes is really very +fortunate in securing this. You must write, my dear, and ask him how +these latest treasures came into his hands." + +At his request she got down another of the ponderous volumes of +Sassolini from the high shelf, and read to him, translating from the +Italian the brief notice of the ancient church of Dulcigno, which, it +appeared, had been built in the Lombard-Norman style of the eleventh +century, while the campanile, with columns from Paestum, dated from +1276. + +The third seal, the circular one, was larger than the rest, being quite +two inches across. In the centre of the top half was the Madonna with +Child, seated, a male and female figure on either side. Below were three +female figures on either side, the two scenes being divided by a festoon +of flowers, while around the edge ran in somewhat more modern +characters--those of the early sixteenth century--the following: + ++ SIGILLVM . VICARIS . GENERALIS . ORDINIS . BEATA . MARIA . D' MON . +CARMEL + + +"This," declared Sir Henry, after a long and most minute examination, +"is a treasure probably unequalled in the collection at Cambridge, being +the actual seal of the Vicar-General of the Carmelite order. Its date I +should place at about 1150. Look well, dear, at those flower garlands; +how beautifully they are engraved! Seal-making is, alas! to-day a lost +art. We have only crude and heavy attempts. The company seal seems +to-day the only thing the engraver can turn out--those machines which +emboss upon a big red wafer." And his busy fingers were continuously +feeling the great circular bronze matrix, and a moment afterwards its +sulphur-cast. + +He was an enthusiastic antiquary, and long ago, in the days when the +world was light, had read papers before the Society of Antiquaries at +Burlington House upon mediaeval seals and upon the early Latin codices. +Nowadays, however, Gabrielle acted as his eyes; and so devoted was she +to her father that she took a keen interest in his dry-as-dust hobbies, +so that after his long tuition she could decipher and read a +twelfth-century Latin manuscript, on its scrap of yellow, crinkled +parchment, and with all its puzzling abbreviations, almost as well as +any professor of palaeography at the universities, while inscriptions +upon Gothic seals were to her as plain as a paragraph in a newspaper. +More than once, white-haired, spectacled professors who came to +Glencardine as her father's guests were amazed at her intelligent +conversation upon points which were quite abstruse. Indeed, she had no +idea of the remarkable extent of her own antiquarian knowledge, all of +it gathered from the talented man whose affliction had kept her so close +at his side. + +For quite an hour her father fingered the three seal-impressions, +discussing them with her in the language of a savant. She herself +examined them minutely and expressed opinions. Now and then she glanced +apprehensively to that open window. He pointed out to her where she was +wrong in her estimate of the design of the circular one, explaining a +technical and little-known detail concerning the seals of the Carmelite +order. + +From the window a cool breath of the night-wind came in, fanning the +curtains and carrying with it the sweet scent of the flowers without. + +"How refreshing!" exclaimed the old man, drawing in a deep breath. "The +night is very close, Gabrielle, dear. I fear we shall have thunder." + +"There was lightning only a moment ago," explained the girl. "Shall I +put the casts into your collection, dad?" + +"Yes, dear. Moyes no doubt intends that I should keep them." + +Gabrielle rose, and, passing across to a large cabinet with many shallow +drawers, she opened one, displaying a tray full of casts of seals, each +neatly arranged, with its inscription and translation placed beneath, +all in her own clear handwriting. + +Some of the drawers contained the matrices as well as the casts; but as +matrices of mediaeval seals are rarities, and seldom found anywhere save +in the chief public museums, it is no wonder that the bulk of private +collections consist of impressions. + +Presently, at the Baronet's suggestion, she closed and locked the +cabinet, and then took up a bundle of business documents, which she +commenced to sort out and arrange. + +She acted as her father's private secretary, and therefore knew much of +his affairs. But many things were to her a complete mystery, be it said. +Though devoted to her father, she nevertheless sometimes became filled +with a vague suspicion that the source of his great income was not +altogether an open and honest one. The papers and letters she read to +him often contained veiled information which sorely puzzled her, and +which caused her many hours of wonder and reflection. Her father lived +alone, with only her as companion. Her stepmother, a young, +good-looking, and giddy woman, never dreamed the truth. + +What would she do, how would she act, Gabrielle wondered, if ever she +gained sight of some of those private papers kept locked in the cavity +beyond the black steel door concealed by the false bookcase at the +farther end of the fine old restful room? + +The papers she handled had been taken from the safe by Sir Henry +himself. And they contained a man's secret. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +SOMETHING CONCERNING JAMES FLOCKART + +In the spreading dawn the house party had returned from Connachan and +had ascended to their rooms, weary with the night's revelry, the men +with shirt-fronts crumpled and ties awry, the women with hair +disordered, and in some cases with flimsy skirts torn in the mazes of +the dance. Yet all were merry and full of satisfaction at what one young +man from town had declared to be "an awfully ripping evening." All +retired at once--all save the hostess and one of her male guests, the +man who had entered the library by stealth earlier in the evening and +had called Gabrielle outside. + +Lady Heyburn and her visitor, James Flockart, had managed to slip away +from the others, and now stood together in the library, into which the +grey light of dawn was at that moment slowly creeping. + +He drew up one of the blinds to admit the light; and there, away over +the hills beyond, the glen showed the red flush that heralded the sun's +coming. Then, returning to where stood the young and attractive woman in +pale pink chiffon, with diamonds on her neck and a star in her fair +hair, he looked her straight in the face and asked, "Well, and what have +you decided?" + +She raised her eyes to his, but made no reply. She was hesitating. + +The gems upon her were heirlooms of the Heyburn family, and in that grey +light looked cold and glassy. The powder and the slight touch of carmine +upon her cheeks, which at night had served to heighten her beauty, now +gave her an appearance of painted artificiality. She was undeniably a +pretty woman, and surely required no artificial aids to beauty. About +thirty-three, yet she looked five years younger; while her husband was +twenty years senior to herself. She still retained a figure so girlish +that most people took her for Gabrielle's elder sister, while in the +matter of dress she was admitted in society to be one of the leaders of +fashion. Her hair was of that rare copper-gold tint, her features +regular, with a slightly protruding chin, soft eyes, and cheeks perfect +in their contour. Society knew her as a gay, reckless, giddy woman, who, +regardless of the terrible affliction which had fallen upon the +brilliant man who was her husband, surrounded herself with a circle of +friends of the same type as herself, and who thoroughly enjoyed her life +regardless of any gossip or of the malignant statements by women who +envied her. + +Men were fond of "Winnie Heyburn," as they called her, and always voted +her "good fun." They pitied poor Sir Henry; but, after all, he was +blind, and preferred his hobbies of collecting old seals and dusty +parchment manuscripts to dances, bridge-parties, theatres, aero shows at +Ranelagh, and suppers at the Carlton or Savoy. + +Like most wealthy women of her type, she had a wide circle of male +friends. Younger men declared her to be "a real pal," and with some of +the older beaux she would flirt and be amused by their flattering +speeches. + +Gabrielle's mother, the second daughter of Lord Buckhurst, had been dead +several years when the brilliant politician met his second wife at a +garden-party at Dollis Hill. She was daughter of a man named Lambert, a +paper manufacturer, who acted as political agent in the town of Bedford; +and she was, therefore, essentially a country cousin. Her beauty was, +however, remarked everywhere. The Baronet was struck by her, and within +three months they were married at St. George's, Hanover Square, the +world congratulating her upon a very excellent match. From the very +first, however, the difference in the ages of husband and wife proved a +barrier. Ere the honeymoon was over she found that her husband, tied by +his political engagements and by his eternal duties at the House, was +unable to accompany her out of an evening; hence from the very first +they had drifted apart, until, eight months later, the terrible +affliction of blindness fell upon him. + +For a time this drew her back to him. She was his constant and dutiful +companion everywhere, leading him hither and thither, and attending to +his wants; but very soon the tie bored her, and the attractions of +society once again proved too great. Hence for the past nine +years--Gabrielle being at school, first at Eastbourne and afterwards at +Amiens--she had amused herself and left her husband to his dry-as-dust +hobbies and the loneliness of his black and sunless world. + +The man who had just put that curious question to her was perhaps her +closest friend. To her he owed everything, though the world was in +ignorance of the fact. That they were friends everybody knew. Indeed, +they had been friends years ago in Bedford, before her marriage, for +James was the only son of the Reverend Henry Flockart, vicar of one of +the parishes in the town. People living in Bedford recollected that the +parson's son had turned out rather badly, and had gone to America. But a +year or two after that the quiet-mannered old clergyman had died, the +living had been given to a successor, and Bedford knew the name of +Flockart no more. After Winifred's marriage, however, London society--or +rather a gay section of it--became acquainted with James Flockart, who +lived at ease in his pretty bachelor-rooms in Half-Moon Street, and who +soon gathered about him a large circle of male acquaintances. Sir Henry +knew him, and raised no objection to his wife's friendship towards him. +They had been boy and girl together; therefore what more natural than +that they should be friends in later life? + +In her schooldays Gabrielle knew practically nothing of this man; but +now she had returned to be her father's companion she had met him, and +had bitter cause to hate both him and Lady Heyburn. It was her own +secret. She kept it to herself. She hid the truth from her father--from +every one. She watched closely and in patience. One day she would speak +and tell the truth. Until then, she resolved to keep to herself all that +she knew. + +"Well?" asked the man with the soft-pleated shirt-front and white +waistcoat smeared with cigarette-ash. "What have you decided?" he asked +again. + +"I've decided nothing," was her blank answer. + +"But you must. Don't be a silly fool," he urged. "You've surely had time +to think over it?" + +"No, I haven't." + +"The girl knows nothing. So what have you to fear?" he endeavoured to +assure her. + +Lady Heyburn shrugged her shoulders. "How can you prove that she knows +nothing?" + +"Oh, she has eyes for nobody but the old man," he laughed. "To-night is +an example. Why, she wouldn't come to Connachan, even though she knew +that Walter was there. She preferred to spend the evening here with her +father." + +"She's a little fool, of course, Jimmy," replied the woman in pink; "but +perhaps it was as well that she didn't come. I hate to have to chaperon +the chit. It makes me look so horribly old." + +"I wish to goodness the girl was out of the way!" he declared. "She's +sharper than we think, and, by Jove! if ever she did know what was in +progress it would be all up for both of us--wouldn't it? Phew! think of +it!" + +"If I thought she had the slightest suspicion," declared her ladyship +with a sudden hardness of her lips, "I'd--I'd close her mouth very +quickly." + +"And for ever, eh?" he asked meaningly. + +"Yes, for ever." + +"Bah!" he laughed. "You'd be afraid to do that, my dear Winnie," added +the man, lowering his voice. "Your husband is blind, it's true; but +there are other people in the world who are not. Recollect, Gabrielle is +now nineteen, and she has her eyes open. She's the eyes and ears of Sir +Henry. Not the slightest thing occurs in this household but it is told +to him at once. His indifference to all is only a clever pretence." + +"What!" she gasped quickly; "do you think he suspects?" + +"Pray, what can he suspect?" asked the man very calmly, both hands in +his trouser-pockets, as he leaned back against the table in front of +her. + +"He can only suspect things which his daughter knows," she said. + +"But what does she know? What can she know?" he asked. + +"How can we tell? I have watched, but can detect nothing. I am, however, +suspicious, because she did not come to Connachan with us to-night." + +"Why?" + +"Walter Murie may know something, and may have told her." + +"If so, then to close her lips would be useless. It would only bring a +heavier responsibility upon us--and----" But he hesitated, without +finishing his sentence. His meaning was apparent from the wry face she +pulled at his remark. He did not tell her how he had, while she had been +dancing and flirting that night, made his way back to the castle, or how +he had compelled Gabrielle to go forth and speak with him. His action +had been a bold one, yet its result had confirmed certain vague +suspicions he had held. + +Well he knew that the girl hated him heartily, and that she was in +possession of a certain secret of his--one which might easily result in +his downfall. He feared to tell the truth to this woman before him, for +if he did so she would certainly withdraw from all association with him +in order to save herself. + +The key to the whole situation was held by that slim, sweet-faced girl, +so devoted to her afflicted father. He was not quite certain as to the +actual extent of her knowledge, and was as yet undecided as to what +attitude he should adopt towards her. He stood between the Baronet's +wife and his daughter, and hesitated in which direction to follow. + +What did she really know, he wondered. Had she overheard any of that +serious conversation between Lady Heyburn and himself while they walked +together in the glen on the previous evening? Such a _contretemps_ was +surely impossible, for he remembered they had taken every precaution +lest even Stewart, the head gamekeeper, might be about in order to stop +trespassers, who, attracted by the beauties of Glencardine, tried to +penetrate and explore them, and by so doing disturbed the game. + +"And if the girl really knows?" he asked of the woman who stood there +motionless, gazing out across the lawn fixedly towards the dawn. + +"If she knows, James," she said in a hard, decisive tone, "then we must +act together, quickly and fearlessly. We must carry out that--that plan +you proposed a year ago!" + +"You are quite fearless, then," he asked, looking straight into her fine +eyes. + +"Fearless? Of course I am," she answered unflinchingly. "We must get rid +of her." + +"Providing we can do so without any suspicion falling upon us." + +"You seem to have become quite white-livered," she exclaimed to him with +a harsh, derisive laugh. "You were not so a year ago--in the other +affair." + +His brows contracted as he reflected upon all it meant to him. The girl +knew something; therefore, to seal her lips was imperative for their own +safety. She was their enemy. + +"You are mistaken," he answered in a low calm voice. "I am just as +determined--just as fearless--as I was then." + +"And you will do it?" she asked. + +"If it is your wish," he replied simply. + +"Good! Give me your hand. We are agreed. It shall be done." + +And the man took the slim white hand the woman held out to him, and a +moment later they ascended the great oak staircase to their respective +rooms. + +The pair were in accord. The future contained for Gabrielle +Heyburn--asleep and all unconscious of the dastardly conspiracy--only +that which must be hideous, tragic, fatal. + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MURIES OF CONNACHAN + +Elise, Lady Heyburn's French maid, discovered next morning that an +antique snake-bracelet was missing, a loss which occasioned great +consternation in the household. + +Breakfast was late, and at table, when the loss was mentioned, Gabrielle +offered to drive over to Connachan in the car and make inquiry and +search. The general opinion was that it had been dropped in one of the +rooms, and was probably still lying there undiscovered. + +The girl's offer was accepted, and half an hour later the smaller of the +two Glencardine cars--the "sixteen" Fiat--was brought round to the door +by Stokes, the smart chauffeur. Young Gellatly, fresh down from Oxford, +begged to be allowed to go with her, and his escort was accepted. + +Then, in motor-cap and champagne-coloured dust-veil, Gabrielle mounted +at the wheel, with the young fellow at her side and Stokes in the back, +and drove away down the long avenue to the high-road. + +The car was her delight. Never so happy was she as when, wrapped in her +leather-lined motor-coat, she drove the "sixteen." The six-cylinder +"sixty" was too powerful for her, but with the "sixteen" she ran +half-over Scotland, and was quite a common object on the Perth to +Stirling road. Possessed of nerve and full of self-confidence, she could +negotiate traffic in Edinburgh or Glasgow, and on one occasion had +driven her father the whole way from Glencardine up to London, a +distance of four hundred and fifty miles. Her fingers pressed the button +of the electric horn as they descended the sharp incline to the +lodge-gates; and, turning into the open road, she was soon speeding +along through Auchterarder village, skirted Tullibardine Wood, down +through Braco, and along by the Knaik Water and St. Patrick's Well into +Glen Artney, passing under the dark shadow of Dundurn, until there came +into view the broad waters of Loch Earn. + +The morning was bright and cloudless, and at such a pace they went that +a perfect wall of dust stood behind them. + +From the margin of the loch the ground rose for a couple of miles until +it reached a plateau upon which stood the fine, imposing Priory, the +ancestral seat of the Muries of Connachan. The aspect as they drove up +was very imposing. The winding road was closely planted with trees for a +large portion of its course, and the stately front of the western +entrance, with its massive stone portico and crenulated cornice, burst +unexpectedly upon them. + +From that point of view one seemed to have reached the gable-end of a +princely edifice, crowned with Gothic belfries; yet on looking round it +was seen that the approach by which the doorway had been reached was +lined on one side with buildings hidden behind the clustering foliage; +and through the archway on the left one caught a glimpse of the +ivy-covered clock-tower and spacious stable-yard and garage extending +northwards for a considerable distance. + +Gabrielle ran the car round to the south side of the house, where in the +foreground were the well-kept parks of Connachan, the smooth-shaven lawn +fringed with symmetrically planted trees, and the fertile fields +extending away to the very brink of the loch. + +The original fortalice of the Muries, half a mile distant, was, like +Glencardine, a ruin. The present Priory, notwithstanding its +old-fashioned towers and lancet windows, was a comparatively modern +structure, and the ivy which partially covered some of the windows could +claim no great antiquity; yet the general effect of the architectural +grouping was most pleasing, and might well deceive the visitor or +tourist into the supposition that it belonged to a very remote period. +It was, as a matter of fact, the work of Atkinson, who in the first +years of the nineteenth century built Scone, Abbotsford, and Taymouth +Castle. + +With loud warning blasts upon the horn, Gabrielle Heyburn pulled up; but +ere she could descend, Walter Murie, a good-looking, dark-haired young +man in grey flannels, and hatless, was outside, hailing her with +delight. + +"Hallo, Gabrielle!" he cried cheerily, taking her hand, "what brings you +over this morning, especially when we were told last night that you were +so very ill?" + +"The illness has passed," exclaimed young Gellatly, shaking his friend's +hand. "And we're now in search of a lost bracelet--one of Lady +Heyburn's." + +"Why, my mother was just going to wire! One of the maids found it in the +boudoir this morning, but we didn't know to whom it belonged. Come +inside. There are a lot of people staying over from last night." Then, +turning to Gabrielle, he added, "By Jove! what dust there must be on the +road! You're absolutely covered." + +"Well," she laughed lightly, "it won't hurt me, I suppose. I'm not +afraid of it." + +Stokes took charge of the car and shut off the petrol, while the three +went inside, passing into a long, cool cloister, down which was arranged +the splendid collection of antiques discovered or acquired by Malcolm +Murie, the well-known antiquary, who had spent many years in Italy, and +died in 1794. In cases ranged down each side of the long cloister, with +its antique carved chairs, armour, and statuary, were rare Etruscan and +Roman terra-cottas, one containing relics from the tomb of a warrior, +which included a sword-hilt adorned with gold and a portion of a golden +crown formed of lilies _in relievo_ of pure gold laid upon a mould of +bronze; another case was full of bronze ornaments unearthed near Albano, +and still another contained rare Abyssinian curios. The collection was +renowned among antiquaries, and was often visited by Sir Henry, who +would be brought there in the car by Gabrielle, and spend hours alone +fingering the objects in the various cases. + +Sir George Murie and Sir Henry Heyburn were close friends; therefore it +was but natural that Walter, the heir to the Connachan estate, and +Gabrielle should often be thrown into each other's company, or perhaps +that the young man--who for the past twelve months had been absent on a +tour round the world--should have loved her ever since the days when she +wore short skirts and her hair down her back. He had been sorely puzzled +why she had not at the last moment come to the ball. She had promised +that she would be with them, and yet she had made the rather lame excuse +of a headache. + +Truth to tell, Walter Murie had during the past week been greatly +puzzled at her demeanour of indifference. Seven days ago he had arrived +in London from New York, but found no letter from her awaiting him at +the club, as he had expected. The last he had received in Detroit a +month before, and it was strangely cold, and quite unusual. Two days ago +he had arrived home, and in secret she had met him down at the end of +the glen at Glencardine. At her wish, their first meeting had been +clandestine. Why? + +Both their families knew of their mutual affection. Therefore, why +should she now make a secret of their meeting after twelve months' +separation? He was puzzled at her note, and he was further puzzled at +her attitude towards him. She was cold and unresponsive. When he held +her in his arms and kissed her soft lips, she only once returned his +passionate caress, and then as though it were a duty forced upon her. +She had, however, promised to come to the ball. That promise she had +deliberately broken. + +Though he could not understand her, he made pretence of unconcern. He +regretted that she had not felt well last night--that was all. + +At the end of the cloister young Gellatly found one of Lady Murie's +guests, a girl named Violet Priest, with whom he had danced a good deal +on the previous night, and at once attached himself to her, leaving +Walter with the sweet-faced, slim-waisted object of his affections. + +The moment they were alone in the long cloister he asked her quickly, +"Tell me, Gabrielle, the real reason why you did not come last night. I +had looked forward very much to seeing you. But I was disappointed +--sadly disappointed." + +"I am very sorry," she laughed, with assumed nonchalance; "but I had to +assist my father with some business papers." + +"Your mother told everyone that you do not care for dancing," he said. + +"That is untrue, Walter. I love dancing." + +"I knew it was untrue, dearest," he said, standing before her. "But why +does Lady Heyburn go out of her way to throw cold water upon you and all +your works?" + +"How should I know?" asked the girl, with a slight shrug. "Perhaps it is +because my father places more confidence in me than in her." + +"And his confidence is surely not misplaced," he said. "I tell you +frankly that I don't like Lady Heyburn." + +"She pretends to like you." + +"Pretends!" he echoed. "Yes, it's all pretence. But," he added, "do tell +me the real reason of your absence last night, Gabrielle. It has worried +me." + +"Why worry, my dear Walter? Is it really worth troubling over? I'm only +a girl, and, as such, am allowed vagaries of nerves--and all that. I +simply didn't want to come, that's all." + +"Why?" + +"Well, to tell you the truth, I hate the crowd we have staying in our +house. They are all mother's friends; and mother's friends are never +mine, you know." + +He looked at her slim figure, so charming in its daintiness. "What a +dear little philosopher you've grown to be in a single year!" he +declared. "We shall have you quoting Friedrich Nietzsche next." + +"Well," she laughed, "if you would like me to quote him I can do so. I +read _Zarathustra_ secretly at school. One of the girls got a copy from +Germany. Do you remember what Zarathustra says: 'Verily, ye could wear +no better masks, ye present-day men, than your own faces,' Who could +recognise you?" + +"I hope that's not meant to be personal," he laughed, gazing at the +girl's beautiful countenance and great, luminous eyes. + +"You may take it as you like," she declared with a delightfully +mischievous smile. "I only quoted it to show you that I have read +Nietzsche, and recollect his many truths." + +"You certainly do seem to have a gay house-party at Glencardine," he +remarked, changing the subject. "I noticed Jimmy Flockart there as +usual." + +"Yes. He's one of mother's greatest friends. She makes good use of him +in every way. Up in town they are inseparable, it seems. They knew each +other, I believe, when they were boy and girl." + +"So I've heard," replied the young man thoughtfully, leaning against a +big glass case containing a collection of _lares_ and _penates_--images +of Jupiter, Hercules, Mercury, &c., used as household gods. "I expected +that he would be dancing attendance upon her during the whole of the +evening; but, curiously enough, soon after his arrival he suddenly +disappeared, and was not seen again until nearly two o'clock." Then, +looking straight in the girl's fathomless eye, he added, "Do you know, +Gabrielle, I don't like that fellow. Beware of him." + +"Neither do I. But your warning is quite unnecessary, I assure you. He +doesn't interest me in the least." + +Walter Murie was silent for a moment, silent as though in doubt. A +shadow crossed his well-cut features, but only for a single second. Then +he smiled again upon the fair-faced, soft-spoken girl whom he loved so +honestly and so well, the woman who was all in all to him. How could he +doubt her--she who only a year ago had, out yonder in the park, given +him her pledge of affection, and sealed it with her hot, passionate +kisses? Remembrance of those sweet caresses still lingered with him. But +he doubted her. Yes, he could not conceal from himself certain very ugly +facts--facts within his own knowledge. Yet was not his own poignant +jealousy misleading him? Was not her refusal to attend the ball perhaps +due to some sudden pique or unpleasantness with her giddy stepmother? +Was it? He only longed to be able to believe that it might be so. Alas! +however, he had discovered the shadow of a strange and disagreeable +truth. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +CONCERNS GABRIELLE'S SECRET + +Along the cloister they went to the great hall, where Walter's mother +advanced to greet her. Full of regrets at the girl's inability to attend +the dance, she handed her the missing bracelet, saying, "It is such a +curious and unusual one, dear, that we wondered to whom it belonged. +Brown found it when she was sweeping my boudoir this morning. Take it +home to your mother, and suggest that she has a stronger clasp put on +it." + +The girl held the golden snake in her open hand. This was the first time +she had ever seen it. A fine example of old Italian workmanship, it was +made flexible, with its flat head covered with diamonds, and two bright +emeralds for the eyes. The mouth could be opened, and within was a small +cavity where a photo or any tiny object could be concealed. Where her +mother had picked it up she could not tell. But Lady Heyburn was always +purchasing quaint odds and ends, and, like most giddy women of her +class, was extraordinarily fond of fantastic jewellery and ornaments +such as other women did not possess. + +Several members of the house-party at Connachan entered and chatted, all +being full of the success of the previous night's entertainment. Lady +Murie's husband had, it appeared, left that morning for Edinburgh to +attend a political committee. + +A little later Walter succeeded in getting Gabrielle alone again in a +small, well-furnished room leading off the library--a room in which she +had passed many happy hours with him before he had gone abroad. He had +been in London reading for the Bar, but had spent a good deal of his +time up in Perthshire, or at least all he possibly could. At such times +they were inseparable; but after he had been "called"--there being no +necessity for him to practise, he being heir to the estates--he had gone +to India and Japan "to broaden his mind," as his father had explained. + +"I wonder, Gabrielle," he said hesitatingly, holding her hand as they +stood at the open window--"I wonder if you will forgive me if I put a +question to you. I--I know I ought not to ask it," he stammered; "but it +is only because I love you so well, dearest, that I ask you to tell me +the truth." + +"The truth!" echoed the girl, looking at him with some surprise, though +turning just a trifle paler, he thought. "The truth about what?" + +"About that man James Flockart," was his low, distinct reply. + +"About him! Why, my dear Walter," she laughed, "whatever do you want to +know about him? You know all that I know. We were agreed long ago that +he is not a gentleman, weren't we?" + +"Yes," he said. "Don't you recollect our talk at your house in London +two years ago, soon after you came back from school? Do you remember +what you then told me?" + +She flushed slightly at the recollection. "I--I ought not to have said +that," she exclaimed hurriedly. "I was only a girl then, and I--well, I +didn't know." + +"What you said has never passed my lips, dearest. Only, I ask you again +to-day to tell me honestly and frankly whether your opinion of him has +in any way changed. I mean whether you still believe what you then +said." + +She was silent for a few moments. Her lips twitched nervously, and her +eyes stared blankly out of the window. "No, I repeat what--I--said +--then," she answered in a strange hoarse voice. + +"And only you yourself suspect the truth?" + +"You are the only person to whom I have mentioned it, and I have been +filled with regret ever since. I had no right to make the allegation, +Walter. I should have kept my secret to myself." + +"There was surely no harm in telling me, dearest," he exclaimed, still +holding her hand, and looking fixedly into those clear-blue, fathomless +eyes so very dear to him. "You know too well that I would never betray +you." + +"But if he knew--if that man ever knew," she cried, "he would avenge +himself upon me! I know he would." + +"But what have you to fear, little one?" he asked, surprised at the +sudden change in her. + +"You know how my mother hates me, how they all detest me--all except +dear old dad, who is so terribly helpless, misled, defrauded, and +tricked--as he daily is--by those about him." + +"I know, darling," said the young man. "I know it all only too well. +Trust in me;" and, bending, he kissed her softly upon the lips. + +What was the real, the actual truth, he wondered. Was she still his, as +she had ever been, or was she playing him false? + +Little did the girl dream of the extent of her lover's knowledge of +certain facts which she was hiding from the world, vainly believing them +to be her own secret. Little did she dream how very near she was to +disaster. + +Walter Murie had, after a frivolous youth, developed at the age of +six-and-twenty into as sound, honest, and upright a young man as could +be found beyond the Border. As full of high spirits as of high +principles, he was in every way worthy the name of the gallant family +whose name he bore, a Murie of Connachan, both for physical strength and +scrupulous honesty; while his affection for Gabrielle Heyburn was that +deep, all-absorbing devotion which makes men sacrifice themselves for +the women they love. He was not very demonstrative. He never wore his +heart upon his sleeve, but deep within him was that true affection which +caused him to worship her as his idol. To him she was peerless among +women, and her beauty was unequalled. Her piquant mischievousness amused +him. As a girl, she had always been fond of tantalising him, and did so +now. Yet he knew her fine character; how deeply devoted she was to her +afflicted father, and how full of discomfort was her dull life, now that +she had exchanged her school for the same roof which covered Sir Henry's +second wife. Indeed, this latter event was the common talk of all who +knew the family. They sighed and pitied poor Sir Henry. It was all very +sad, they said; but there their sympathy ended. During Walter's absence +abroad something had occurred. What that something was he had not yet +determined. Gabrielle was not exactly the same towards him as she used +to be. His keen sensitiveness told him this instinctively, and, indeed, +he had made a discovery that, though he did not admit it now, had +staggered him. + +He stood there at the open window chatting with her, but what he said he +had no idea. His one thought--the one question which now possessed +him--was whether she still loved him, or whether the discovery he had +made was the actual and painful truth. Tall and good-looking, +clean-shaven, and essentially easy-going, he stood before her with his +dark eyes fixed upon her--eyes full of devotion, for was she not his +idol? + +She was telling him of a garden-party which her mother had arranged for +the following Thursday, and pressing him to attend it. + +"I'm afraid I may have to be in London that day, dearest," he responded. +"But if I may I'll come over to-morrow and play tennis. Will you be at +home in the afternoon?" + +"No," she declared promptly, with a mischievous laugh, "I shan't. I +shall be in the glen by the first bridge at four o'clock, and shall wait +for you there." + +"Very well, I'll be there," he laughed. "But why should we meet in +secret like this, when everybody knows of our engagement?" + +"Well, because I have a reason," she replied in a strained voice--"a +strong reason." + +"You've grown suddenly shy, afraid of chaff, it seems." + +"My mother is, I fear, not altogether well disposed towards you, +Walter," was her quick response. "Dad is very fond of you, as you well +know; but Lady Heyburn has other views for me, I think." + +"And is that the only reason you wish to meet me in secret?" he asked. + +She hesitated, became slightly confused, and quickly turned the +conversation into a different channel, a fact which caused him increased +doubt and reflection. + +Yes, something certainly had occurred. That was vividly apparent. A gulf +lay between them. + +Again he looked straight into her beautiful face, and fell to wondering. +What could it all mean? So true had she been to him, so sweet her +temperament, so high all her ideals, that he could not bring himself to +believe ill of her. He tried to fight down those increasing doubts. He +tried to put aside the naked truth which had arisen before him since his +return to England. He loved her. Yes, he loved her, and would think no +ill of her until he had proof, actual and indisputable. + +As far as the eligibility of Walter Murie was concerned there was no +question. Even Lady Heyburn could not deny it when she discussed the +matter over the tea-cups with her intimate friends. + +The family of the Muries of Connachan claimed a respectable antiquity. +The original surname of the family was De Balinhard, assumed from an +estate of that name in the county of Forfar. Sir Jocelynus de +Baldendard, or Balinhard, who witnessed several charters between 1204 +and 1225, is the first recorded of the name, but there is no documentary +proof of descent before that time; and, indeed, most of the family +papers having been burned in 1452, little remains of the early history +beyond the names and succession of the possessors of Balinhard from +about 1250 till 1350, which are stated in a charter of David II. now +preserved in the British Museum. This charter records the grant made by +William de Maule to John de Balinhard, _filio et heredi quondam Joannis +filii Christini filii Joannis de Balinhard_, of the lands of Murie, in +the county of Perthshire, and from that period, about 1350, the family +has borne the name of De Murie instead of De Balinhard. In 1409 Duthac +de Murie obtained a charter of the Castle of Connachan, possession of +which has been held by the family uninterruptedly ever since, except for +about thirty years, when the lands were under forfeiture on account of +the Rebellion of 1715. + +Near Crieff Junction station the lands of Glencardine and Connachan +march together; therefore both Sir Henry Heyburn and his friend, Sir +George Murie, had looked upon an alliance between the two houses as +quite within the bounds of probability. + +If the truth were told, Gabrielle had never looked upon any other man +save Walter with the slightest thought of affection. She loved him with +the whole strength of her being. During that twelve long months of +absence he had been daily in her thoughts, and his constant letters she +had read and re-read dozens of times. She had, since she left school, +met many eligible young men at houses to which her mother had grudgingly +taken her--young men who had been nice to her, flattered her, and +flirted with her. But she had treated them all with coquettish disdain, +for in the world there was but one man who was her lover and her +hero--her old friend Walter Murie. + +At this moment, as they were together in that cosy, well-furnished room, +she became seized by a twinge of conscience. She knew quite well that +she was not treating him as she ought. She had not been at all +enthusiastic at his return, and she had inquired but little about his +wanderings. Indeed, she had treated him with a studied indifference, as +though his life concerned her but little. And yet if he only knew the +truth, she thought; if he could only see that that cool, unresponsive +attitude was forced upon her by circumstances; if he could only know how +quickly her heart throbbed when he was present, and how dull and lonely +all became when he was absent! + +She loved him. Ah, yes! as truly and devotedly as he loved her. But +between them there had fallen a dark, grim shadow--one which, at all +hazards and by every subterfuge, she must endeavour to hide. She loved +him, and could, therefore, never bear to hear his bitter reproaches or +to witness his grief. He worshipped her. Would that he did not, she +thought. She must hide her secret from him as she was hiding it from all +the world. + +He was speaking. She answered him calmly yet mechanically. He wondered +what strange thoughts were concealed beneath those clear, wide-open, +child-like eyes which he was trying in vain to fathom. What would he +have thought had he known the terrible truth: that she had calmly, and +after long reflection, resolved to court death--death by her own +hand--rather than face the exposure with which she had that previous +night been threatened. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +CONTAINS CURIOUS CONFIDENCES + +A week had gone by. Stewart, the lean, thin-faced head-keeper, who spoke +with such a strong accent that guests from the South often failed to +understand him, and who never seemed to sleep, so vigilant was he over +the Glencardine shootings, had reported the purchase of a couple of new +pointers. + +Therefore, one morning Lady Heyburn and her constant cavalier, Flockart, +had walked across to the kennels close to the castle to inspect them. + +At the end of the big, old-fashioned stable-yard, with grey stone +outbuildings ranged down either side, and the ancient mounting-block a +conspicuous object, were ranged the modern iron kennels full of pointers +and spaniels. In that big, old, paved quadrangle, the cobbles of which +were nowadays stained by the oil of noisy motor-cars, many a Graham of +Glencardine had mounted to ride into Stirling or Edinburgh, or to drive +in his coach to far-off London. The stables were now empty, but the +garage adjoining, whence came the odour of petrol, contained the two +Glencardine cars, besides three others belonging to members of that +merry, irresponsible house-party. + +The inspection of the pointers was a mere excuse on her ladyship's part +to be alone with Flockart. + +She wished to speak with him, and with that object suggested that they +should take the by-road which, crossing one of the main roads through +the estate, led through a leafy wood away to a railway level-crossing +half a mile off. The road was unfrequented, and they were not likely to +meet any of the guests, for some were away fishing, others had motored +into Stirling, and at least three had walked down into Auchterarder to +take a telegram for their blind host. + +"Well, my dear Jimmy," asked the well-preserved, fair-haired woman in +short brown skirt and fresh white cotton blouse and sun-hat, "what have +you discovered?" + +"Very little," replied the easy-going man, who wore a suit of rough +heather-tweed and a round cloth fishing-hat. "My information is +unfortunately very meagre. You have watched carefully. Well, what have +you found out?" + +"That she's just as much in love with him as before--the little fool!" + +"And I suppose he's just as devoted to her as ever--eh?" + +"Of course. Since you've been away these last few days he's been over +here from Connachan, on one pretext or another, every day. Of course +I've been compelled to ask him to lunch, for I can't afford to quarrel +with his people, although I hate the whole lot of them. His mother gives +herself such airs, and his father is the most terrible old bore in the +whole country." + +"But the match would be an advantageous one--wouldn't it?" suggested the +man strolling at her side, and he stopped to light a cigarette which he +took from a golden case. + +"Advantageous! Of course it would! But we can't afford to allow it, my +dear Jimmy. Think what such an alliance would mean to us!" + +"To you, you mean." + +"To you also. An ugly revelation might result, remember. Therefore it +must not be allowed. While Walter was abroad all was pretty plain +sailing. Lots of the letters she wrote him I secured from the post-box, +read them, and afterwards burned them. But now he's back there is a +distinct peril. He's a cute young fellow, remember." + +Flockart smiled. "We must discover a means by which to part them," he +said slowly but decisively. "I quite agree with you that to allow the +matter to go any further would be to court disaster. We have a good many +enemies, you and I, Winnie--many who would only be too pleased and eager +to rake up that unfortunate episode. And I, for one, have no desire to +figure in a criminal dock." + +"Nor have I," she declared quickly. + +"But if I went there you would certainly accompany me," he said, looking +straight at her. + +"What!" she gasped in quick dismay. "You would tell the truth and--and +denounce me?" + +"I would not; but no doubt there are others who would," was his answer. + +For a few moments her arched brows were knit, and she remained silent. +Her reflections were uneasy ones. She and the man at her side, who for +years had been her confidant and friend, were both in imminent peril of +exposure. Their relations had always been purely platonic; therefore she +was not afraid of any allegation against her honour. What her enemies +had said were lies--all of them. Her fear lay in quite a different +direction. + +Her poor, blind, helpless husband was in ignorance of that terrible +chapter of her own life--a chapter which she had believed to be closed +for ever, and yet which was, by means of a chain of unexpected +circumstances, in imminent danger of being reopened. + +"Well," she inquired at last in a blank voice, "and who are those others +who, you believe, would be prepared to denounce me?" + +"Certain persons who envy you your position, and who, perhaps, think +that you do not treat poor old Sir Henry quite properly." + +"But I do treat him properly!" she declared vehemently. "If he prefers +the society of that chit of a girl of his to mine, how can I possibly +help it? Besides, people surely must know that, to me, the society of a +blind old man is not exactly conducive to gaiety. I would only like to +put those women who malign me into my place for a single year. Perhaps +they would become even more reckless of the _convenances_ than I am!" + +"My dear Winnie," he said, "what's the use of discussing such an old and +threadbare theme? Things are not always what they seem, as the man with +a squint said when he thought he saw two sovereigns where there was but +one. The point before us is the girl's future." + +"It lies in your hands," was her sharp reply. + +"No; in yours. I have promised to look after Walter Murie." + +"But how can I act?" she asked. "The little hussy cares nothing for +me--only sees me at table, and spends the whole of her day with her +father." + +"Act as I suggested last week," was his rejoinder. "If you did that the +old man would turn her out of the place, and the rest would be easy +enough." + +"But----" + +"Ah!" he laughed derisively, "I see you've some sympathy with the girl +after all. Very well, take the consequences. It is she who will be your +deadliest enemy, remember; she who, if the disaster falls, will give +evidence against you. Therefore, you'd best act now, ere it's too late. +Unless, of course, you are in fear of her." + +"I don't fear her!" cried the woman, her eyes flashing defiance. "Why do +you taunt me like this? You haven't told me yet what took place on the +night of the ball." + +"Nothing. The mystery is just as complete as ever." + +"She defied you--eh?" + +Her companion nodded. + +"Then how do you now intend to act?" + +"That's just the question I was about to put to you," he said. "There is +a distinct peril--one which becomes graver every moment that the girl +and young Murie are together. How are we to avert it?" + +"By parting them." + +"Then act as I suggested the other day. It's the only way, Winnie, +depend upon it--the only way to secure our own safety." + +"And what would the world say of me, her stepmother, if it were known +that I had done such a thing?" + +"You've never yet cared for what the world said. Why should you care +now? Besides, it never will be known. I should be the only person in the +secret, and for my own sake it isn't likely that I'd give you away. Is +it? You've trusted me before," he added; "why not again?" + +"It would break my husband's heart," she declared in a low, intense +voice. "Remember, he is devoted to her. He would never recover from the +shock." + +"And yet the other night after the ball you said you were prepared to +carry out the suggestion, in order to save yourself," he remarked with a +covert sneer. + +"Perhaps I was piqued that she should defy my suggestion that she should +go to the ball." + +"No, you were not. You never intended her to go. That you know." + +When he spoke to her this man never minced matters. The woman was held +by him in a strange thraldom which surprised many people; yet to all it +was a mystery. The world knew nothing of the fact that James Flockart +was without a penny, and that he lived--and lived well, too--upon the +charity of Lady Heyburn. Two thousand pounds were placed, in secret, +every year to his credit from her ladyship's private account at +Coutts's, besides which he received odd cheques from her whenever his +needs required. To his friends he posed as an easy-going man-about-town, +in possession of an income not large, but sufficient to supply him with +both comforts and luxuries. He usually spent the London season in his +cosy chambers in Half-Moon Street; the winter at Monte Carlo or at +Cairo; the summer at Aix, Vichy, or Marienbad; and the autumn in a +series of visits to houses in Scotland. + +He was not exactly a ladies' man. Courtly, refined, and a splendid +linguist, as he was, the girls always voted him great fun; but from the +elder ones, and from married women especially, he somehow held himself +aloof. His one woman-friend, as everybody knew, was the flighty, +go-ahead Lady Heyburn. + +Of the country-house party he was usually the life and soul. No man +could invent so many practical jokes or carry them on with such +refinement of humour as he. Therefore, if the hostess wished to impart +merriment among her guests, she sought out and sent a pressing +invitation to "Jimmy" Flockart. A first-class shot, an excellent +tennis-player, a good golfer, and quite a good hand at putting a stone +in curling, he was an all-round sportsman who was sure to be highly +popular with his fellow-guests. Hence up in the north his advent was +always welcomed with loud approbation. + +To those who knew him, and knew him well, this confidential conversation +with the woman whose platonic friendship he had enjoyed through so many +years would certainly have caused greatest surprise. That he was a +schemer was entirely undreamed of. That he was attracted by "Winnie +Heyburn" was declared to be only natural, in view of the age and +affliction of her own husband. Cases such as hers are often regarded +with a very lenient eye. + +They had reached the level-crossing where, beside the line of the +Caledonian Railway, stands the mail-apparatus by which the down-mail for +Euston picks up the local bag without stopping, while the up-mail drops +its letters and parcels into the big, strong net. For a few moments they +halted to watch the dining-car express for Euston pass with a roar and a +crash as she dashed down the incline towards Crieff Junction. + +Then, as they turned again towards the house, he suddenly exclaimed, +"Look here, Winnie. We've got to face the music now. Every day increases +our peril. If you are actually afraid to act as I suggest, then tell me +frankly and I'll know what to do. I tell you quite openly that I have +neither desire nor intention to be put into a hole by this confounded +girl. She has defied me; therefore she must take the consequences." + +"How do you know that your action the other night has not aroused her +suspicions?" + +"Ah! there you are quite right. It may have done so. If it has, then our +peril has very considerably increased. That's just my argument." + +"But we'll have Walter to reckon with in any case. He loves her." + +"Bah! Leave the boy to me. I'll soon show him that the girl's not worth +a second thought," replied Flockart with nonchalant air. "All you have +to do is to act as I suggested the other night. Then leave the rest to +me." + +"And suppose it were discovered?" asked the woman, whose face had grown +considerably paler. + +"Well, suppose the worst happened, and it were discovered?" he asked, +raising his brows slightly. "Should we be any worse off than would be +the case if this girl took it into her head to expose us--if the facts +which she could prove placed us side by side in an assize-court?" + +The woman--clever, scheming, ambitious--was silent. The question +admitted of no reply. She recognised her own peril. The picture of +herself arraigned before a judge, with that man beside her, rose before +her imagination, and she became terrified. That slim, pale-faced girl, +her husband's child, stood between her and her own honour, her own +safety. Once the girl was removed, she would have no further fear, no +apprehension, no hideous forebodings concerning the imminent future. She +saw it all as she walked along that moss-grown forest-road, her eyes +fixed straight before her. The tempter at her side had urged her to +commit a dastardly, an unpardonable crime. In that man's hands she was, +alas! as wax. He poured into her ear a vivid picture of what must +inevitably result should Gabrielle reveal the ugly truth, at the same +time calmly watching the effect of his words upon her. Upon her decision +depended his whole future as well as hers. What was Gabrielle's life to +hers, asked the man point-blank. That was the question which decided +her--decided her, after long and futile resistance, to promise to commit +the act which he had suggested. She gave the man her hand in pledge. + +Then a slight smile of triumph played about his cruel nether lip, and +the pair retraced their steps towards the castle in silence. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +CASTING THE BAIT + +Loving and perishing: these have tallied from eternity. Love and death +walk hand-in-hand. The will to love means also to be ready for death. + +Gabrielle Heyburn recognised this truth. She had the will to love, and +she had the resolve to perish--perish by her own hand--rather than allow +her secret to be exposed. Those who knew her--a young, athletic, +merry-faced, open-air girl on the verge of budding womanhood, so +true-hearted, frank, and free--little dreamed of the terrible nature of +that secret within her young heart. + +She held aloof from her lover as much as she dared. True, Walter came to +Glencardine nearly every day, but she managed to avoid him whenever +possible. Why? Because she knew her own weakness; she feared being +compelled by his stronger nature, and by the true affection in which she +held him, to confess. They walked together in the cool, shady glen +beside the rippling burn, climbed the neighbouring hills, played tennis, +or else she lay in the hammock at the edge of the lawn while he lounged +at her side smoking cigarettes. She did all this because she was +compelled. + +Her most enjoyable hours were the quiet ones spent at Her father's side. +Alone in the library, she read to him, in French, those curious business +documents which came so often by registered post. They were so strangely +worded that, not knowing their true import, she failed to understand +them. All were neatly typed, without any heading to the paper. Sometimes +a printed address in the Boulevard des Capucines, Paris, would appear on +letters accompanying the enclosures. But all were very formal, and to +Gabrielle extremely puzzling. + +Sir Henry always took the greatest precaution that no one should obtain +sight of these confidential reports or overhear them read by his +daughter. Before she sat down to read, she always shot the small brass +bolt on the door to prevent Hill or any other intruder from entering. +More than once the Baronet's wife had wanted to come in while the +reading was in progress, whereupon Sir Henry always excused himself, +saying that he locked his door against his guests when he wished to be +alone, an explanation which her ladyship accepted. + +These strangely worded reports in French always puzzled the Baronet's +daughter. Sometimes she became seized by a vague suspicion that her +father was carrying on some business which was not altogether +honourable. Why should he enjoin such secrecy? Why should he cause her +to write and despatch with her own hand such curiously worded telegrams, +addressed always to the registered address: "METEFOROS, PARIS"? + +Those neatly typed pages which she read could be always construed in two +or three senses. But only her father knew the actual meaning which the +writer intended to convey. For hours she would often be engaged in +reading them. Sometimes, too, telegrams in cipher arrived, and she would +then obtain the little, dark-blue covered book from the safe, and by its +aid decipher the messages from the French capital. + +Questions, curious questions, were frequently asked by the anonymous +sender of the reports; and to these her father replied by means of his +private code. She had become during the past year quite an expert +typist, and therefore to her the Baronet entrusted the replies, always +impressing upon her the need of absolute secrecy, even from her mother. + +"My affairs," he often declared, "concern nobody but myself. I trust in +you, Gabrielle dear, to guard my secrets from prying eyes. I know that +you yourself must often be puzzled, but that is only natural." + +Unfamiliar as the girl was with business in any form, she had during the +past year arrived at the conclusion, after much debate within herself, +that this source of her father's income was a distinctly mysterious one. +The estates were, of course, large, and he employed agents to manage +them; but they could not produce that huge income which she knew he +possessed, for had she not more than once seen the amount of his balance +at his banker's as well as the large sum he had on deposit? The source +of his colossal wealth was a mystery, but was no doubt connected with +his curious and constant communications with Paris. + +At rare intervals a grey-faced, grey-bearded, and rather stout +Frenchman--a certain Monsieur Goslin--called, and on such occasions was +closeted for a long time alone with Sir Henry, evidently discussing some +important affair in secret. To her ladyship, as well as to Gabrielle, +the Frenchman was most courteous, but refused the pressing invitations +to remain the night. He always arrived by the morning train from Perth, +and left for the south the same night, the express being stopped for him +by signal at Auchterarder station. The mysterious visitor puzzled +Gabrielle considerably. Her father entrusted him with secrets which he +withheld from her, and this often caused her both surprise and +annoyance. Like every other girl, she was of course full of curiosity. + +Towards her Flockart became daily more friendly. On two occasions, after +breakfast, he had invited her to spend an hour or two fishing for trout +in the burn, which was unexpectedly in spate, and they had thus been +some time in each other's company. + +She, however, regarded him with distinct distrust. He was undeniably +good-looking, nonchalant, and a thorough-going man of the world. But his +intimate friendship with Lady Heyburn prevented her from regarding him +as a true friend. Towards her he was ever most courteous, and paid her +many little compliments. He tied her flies, he fitted her rod, and if +her line became entangled in the trees he always put matters right. Not, +however, that she could not do it all herself. In her strong, high +fishing-boots, her short skirts hemmed with leather, her burberry, and +her dark-blue tam-o'-shanter set jauntily on her chestnut hair, she very +often fished alone, and made quite respectable baskets. To wade into the +burn and disentangle her line from beneath a stone was to her quite a +small occurrence, for she would never let either Stewart or any of the +under-keepers accompany her. + +Why Flockart had so suddenly sought her society she failed to discern. +Hitherto, though always extremely polite, he had treated her as a child, +which she naturally resented. At length, however, he seemed to have +realised that she now possessed the average intelligence of a young +woman. + +He had never repeated those strange words he had uttered when, on the +night of the ball at Connachan, he returned in secret to the castle and +beckoned her out upon the lawn. He had, indeed, never referred to his +curious action. Sometimes she wondered, so changed was his manner, +whether he had actually forgotten the incident altogether. He had showed +himself in his true colours that night. Whatever suspicions she had +previously held were corroborated in that stroll across the lawn in the +dark shadow. His tactics had altered, it seemed, and their objective +puzzled her. + +"It must be very dull for you here, Miss Heyburn," he remarked to her +one bright morning as they were casting up-stream near one another. They +were standing not far from a rustic bridge in a deep, leafy glen, where +the sunshine penetrated here and there through the canopy of leaves, +beneath which the burn pursued its sinuous course towards the Earn. The +music of the rippling waters over the brown, moss-grown boulders mingled +with the rustle of the leaves above, as now and then the soft wind swept +up the narrow valley. They were treading a carpet of wild-flowers, and +the air was full of the delicious perfume of the summer day. "You must +be very dull, living here so much, and going up to town so very seldom," +he said. + +"Oh dear no!" she laughed. "You are quite mistaken. I really enjoy a +country life. It's so jolly after the confinement and rigorous rules of +school. One is free up here. I can wear my old clothes, and go cycling, +fishing, shooting, curling; in fact, I'm my own mistress. That I +shouldn't be if I lived in London, and had to make calls, walk in the +Park, go shopping, sit out concerts, and all that sort of thing." + +"But though you're out, you never go anywhere. Surely that's unusual for +one so active and--well"--he hesitated--"I wonder whether I might be +permitted to say so--so good-looking as you are, Gabrielle." + +"Ah!" replied the girl, protesting, but blushing at the same time, +"you're poking fun at me, Mr. Flockart. All I can reply is, first, that +I'm not good-looking; and, secondly, I'm not in the least dull--perhaps +I should be if I hadn't my father's affairs to attend to." + +"They seem to take up a lot of your time," he said with pretended +indifference, but, to his annoyance, landed a salmon parr at the same +moment. + +"We work together most evenings," was her reply. + +The question which he then put as he threw the parr back into the burn +struck her as curious. It was evident that he was endeavouring to learn +from her the nature of her father's correspondence. But she was shrewd +enough to parry all his ingenious cross-questioning. Her father's +secrets were her own. + +"Some ill-natured people gossip about Sir Henry," he remarked presently, +as he made another long cast up-stream and allowed the flies to be +carried down to within a few yards from where he stood. "They say that +his source of income is mysterious, and that it is not altogether open +and above-board." + +"What!" she exclaimed, looking at him quickly. "And who, pray, Mr. +Flockart, makes this allegation against my father?" + +"Oh, I really don't know who started the gossip. The source of such +tales is always difficult to discover. Some enemy, no doubt. Every man +in this world of ours has enemies." + +"What do you mean by the source of dad's income not being an honourable +one?" + +The man shrugged his shoulders. "I really don't know," he declared. "I +only repeat what I've heard once or twice up in London." + +"Tell me exactly what they say," demanded the girl, with quick interest. + +Her companion hesitated for a few seconds. "Well, whatever has been +said, I've always denied; for, as you know, I am a friend of both Lady +Heyburn and of your father." + +The girl's nostrils dilated slightly. Friend! Why, was not this man her +father's false friend? Was he not behind every sinister action of Lady +Heyburn's, and had not she herself, with her own ears, one day at Park +Street, four years ago, overheard her ladyship express a dastardly +desire in the words, "Oh, Henry is such a dreadful old bore, and so +utterly useless, that it's a shame a woman like myself should be tied up +to him. Fortunately for me, he already has one foot in the grave. +Otherwise I couldn't tolerate this life at all!" Those cruel words of +her stepmother's, spoken to this man who was at that moment her +companion, recurred to her. She recollected, too, Flockart's reply. + +This hollow pretence of friendship angered her. She knew that the man +was her father's enemy, and that he had united with the clever, scheming +woman in some ingenious conspiracy against the poor, helpless man. + +Therefore she turned, and, facing him boldly, said, "I wish, Mr. +Flockart, that you would please understand that I have no intention to +discuss my father or his affairs. The latter concern himself alone. He +does not even speak of them to his wife; therefore why should strangers +evince any interest in them?" + +"Because there are rumours--rumours of a mystery; and mysteries are +always interesting and attractive," was his answer. + +"True," she said meaningly. "Just as rumours concerning certain of my +father's guests possess an unusual interest for him, Mr. Flockart. +Though my father may be blind, his hearing is still excellent. And he is +aware of much more than you think." + +The man glanced at her for an instant, and his face darkened. The girl's +ominous words filled him with vague apprehension. Was it possible that +the blind man had any suspicion of what was intended? He held his +breath, and made another vicious cast far up the rippling stream. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +REVEALS A MYSTERIOUS BUSINESS + +In the few days which followed, Lady Heyburn's attitude towards +Gabrielle became one of marked affection. She even kissed her in the +breakfast-room each morning, called her "dear," and consulted her upon +the day's arrangements. + +Poor Sir Henry was but a cipher in the household. He usually took all +his meals alone, except dinner, and was very seldom seen, save perhaps +when he would come out for an hour or so to walk in the park, led by his +daughter, or else, alone, tapping before him with his stout stick. On +such occasions he would wear a pair of big blue spectacles to hide the +unsightliness of his gray, filmy eyes. Sometimes he would sit on one of +the garden seats on the south side of the house, enjoying the sunshine, +and listening to the songs of the birds, the hum of the insects, and the +soft ripples of the burn far below. And on such occasions one of his +wife's guests would join him to chat and cheer him, for everyone felt +pity for the lonely man living his life of darkness. + +No one was more full of words of sympathy than James Flockart. Gabrielle +longed to warn her father of that man, but dared not do so. There was a +reason--a strong reason--for her silence. Sir Henry had declared that he +was interested in the man's intellectual conversation, and that he +rather liked him, though he had never looked upon his face. In some +things the old gentleman was ever ready to adopt his daughter's advice +and rely upon her judgment; but in others he was quite obstinate and +treated her pointed remarks with calm indifference. + +One day, at Lady Heyburn's suggestion, Gabrielle, accompanied by +Flockart and another of the guests, a retired colonel, had driven over +in the big car to Perth to make a call; and on their return she spent +some hours in the library with her father, attending to his +correspondence. + +That morning a big packet of those typed reports in French had arrived +in the usual registered, orange-coloured envelope, and after she had +read them over to the Baronet, he had given her the key, and she had got +out the code-book. Then, at his instructions, she had written upon a +yellow telegraph-form a cipher message addressed to the mysterious +"Meteforos, Paris." It read, when decoded:-- + +"Arrange with amethyst. I agree the price of pearls. Have no fear of +Smithson, but watch Peters. If London refuses, then Mayfair. Expect +report of Bedford." + +It was not signed by the Baronet's name, but by the signature he always +used on such telegraphic replies: "Senrab." + +From such a despatch she could gather nothing. At his request she took +away the little blue-covered book and relocked it in the safe. Then she +rang for Hill, and told him to send the despatch by messenger down to +Auchterarder village. + +"Very well, miss," replied the man, bowing. + +"The car is going down to take Mr. Seymour to the station in about a +quarter of an hour, so Stokes will take it." + +"And look here," exclaimed the blind man, who was standing before the +window with his back to the crimson sunset, "you can tell her ladyship, +Hill, that I'm very busy, and I shan't come in to dinner to-night. Just +serve a snack here for me, will you?" + +"Very well, Sir Henry," responded the smart footman; and, bowing again, +he closed the door. + +"May I dine with you, dad?" asked the girl. "There are two or three +people invited to-night, and they don't interest me in the least." + +"My dear child, what do you mean? Why, aren't Walter Murie and his +mother dining here to-night? I know your mother invited them ten days +ago." + +"Oh, why, yes," replied the girl rather lamely; "I did not recollect. +Then, I suppose, I must put in an appearance," she sighed. + +"Suppose!" he echoed. "What would Walter think if you elected to dine +with me instead of meeting him at table?" + +"Now, dad, it is really unkind of you!" she said reprovingly. "Walter +and I thoroughly understand each other. He's not surprised at anything I +do." + +"Ah!" laughed the sightless man, "he's already beginning to understand +the feminine perverseness, eh? Well, my child, dine here with me if you +wish, by all means. Tell Hill to lay the table for two. We have lots of +work to do afterwards." + +So the bell was rung again and Hill was informed that Miss Gabrielle +would dine with her father in the library. + +Then they turned again to the Baronet's mysterious private affairs; and +when she had seated herself at the typewriter and re-read the +reports--confidential reports they were, but framed in a manner which +only the old man himself could understand--he dictated to her cryptic +replies, the true nature of which were to her a mystery. + +The last of the reports, brief and unsigned, read as follows:-- + +"Mon petit garçon est très gravement malade, et je supplie Dieu à genoux +de ne pas me punir si severement, de ne pas me prendre mon enfant. + +"D'apres le dernier bulletin du Professeur Knieberger, il a la fièvre +scarlatine, et l'issue de la maladie est incertaine. Je ne quitte plus +son chevet. Et sans cesse je me dis, 'C'est une punition du Ciel.'" + +Gabrielle saw that, to the outside world, it was a statement by a +frantic mother that her child had caught scarlet-fever. "What could it +really mean?" she wondered. + +Slowly she read it, and as she did so noticed the curious effect it had +upon her father, seated as he was in the deep saddle-bag chair. His face +grew very grave, his thin white hands clenched themselves, and there was +an unusually bitter expression about his mouth. + +"Eh?" he asked, as though not quite certain of the words. "Read it +again, child, slower. I--I have to think." + +She obeyed, wondering if the key to the cryptic message were contained +in some conjunction of letters or words. It seemed as though, in +imagination, he was setting it down before him as she pronounced the +words. This was often so. At times he would have reports repeated to him +over and over again. + +"Ah!" he gasped at last, drawing a long breath, his hands still tightly +clenched, his countenance haggard and drawn. "I--I expected that. And so +it has come--at last!" + +"What, dad?" asked the girl in surprise, staring at the crisp +typewritten sheet before her. + +"Oh, well, nothing child--nothing," he answered, bestirring himself. + +"But the lady whoever she is, seems terribly concerned about her little +boy. The judgment of Heaven, she calls it." + +"And well she may, Gabrielle," he answered in a hoarse strained voice. +"Well she may, my dear. It is a punishment sent upon the wicked." + +"Is the mother wicked, then?" asked the girl in curiosity. + +"No, dear," he urged. "Don't try to understand, for you can never do +that. These reports convey to me alone the truth. They are intended to +mislead you, as they mislead other people." + +"Then there is no little boy suffering from scarlet-fever?" + +"Yes. Because it is written there," was his smiling reply. "But it only +refers to an imaginary child, and, by so doing, places a surprising and +alarming truth before me." + +"Is the matter so very serious, dad?" she asked, noticing the curious +effect the words had had upon him. + +"Serious!" he echoed, leaning forward in his chair. "Yes," he answered +in a low voice, "it is very serious, child, both to me and to you." + +"I don't understand you, dad," she exclaimed, walking to his chair +throwing herself upon her knees, and placing her arms around his neck. +"Won't you be more explicit? Won't you tell me the truth? Surely you can +rely upon my secrecy?" + +"Yes, child," he said, groping until his hand fell upon her hair, and +then stroking it tenderly; "I trust you. You keep my affairs from those +people who seek to obtain knowledge of them. Without you, I would be +compelled to employ a secretary; but he could be bought, without a +doubt. Most secretaries can." + +"Ford was very trustworthy, was he not?" + +"Yes, poor Ford," he sighed. "When he died I lost my right hand. But +fortunately you were old enough to take his place." + +"But in a case like this, when you are worried and excited, as you are +at this moment, why not confide in me and allow me to help you?" she +suggested. "You see that, although I act as your secretary, dad, I know +nothing of the nature of your business." + +"And forgive me for speaking very plainly, child, I do not intend that +you should," the old man said. + +"Because you cannot trust me!" she pouted. "You think that because I'm a +woman I cannot keep a secret." + +"Not at all," he said. "I place every confidence in you, dear. You are +the only real friend left to me in the whole world. I know that you +would never willingly betray me to my enemies; but----" + +"Well, but what?" + +"But you might do so unknowingly. You might by one single chance-word +place me within the power of those who seek my downfall." + +"Who seeks your downfall, dad?" she asked very seriously. + +"That's a matter which I desire to keep to myself. Unfortunately, I do +not know the identity of my enemies; hence I am compelled to keep from +you certain matters which, in other circumstances, you might know. But," +he added, "this is not the first time we've discussed this question, +Gabrielle dear. You are my daughter, and I trust you. Do not, child, +misjudge me by suspecting that I doubt your loyalty." + +"I don't, dad; only sometimes I----" + +"Sometimes you think," he said, still stroking her hair--"you think that +I ought to tell you the reason I receive all these reports from Paris, +and their real significance. Well, to tell the truth, dear, it is best +that you should not know. If you reflect for a moment," went on the old +man, tears welling slowly in his filmy, sightless eyes, "you will +realise my unhappy situation--how I am compelled to hide my affairs even +from Lady Heyburn herself. Does she ever question you regarding them?" + +"She used to at one time; but she refrains nowadays, for I would tell +her nothing." + +"Has anyone else ever tried to glean information from you?" he inquired, +after a long breath. + +"Mr. Flockart has done so on several occasions of late. But I pleaded +absolute ignorance." + +"Oh, Flockart has been asking you, has he?" remarked her father with +surprise. "Well, I suppose it is only natural. A blind man's doings are +always more or less a mystery to the world." + +"I don't like Mr. Flockart, dad," she said. + +"So you've remarked before, my dear," her father replied. "Of course you +are right in withholding any information upon a subject which is my own +affair; yet, on the other hand, you should always remember that he is +your mother's very good friend--and yours also." + +"Mine!" gasped the girl, starting up. Would that she were free to tell +the poor, blind, helpless man the ghastly truth! "My friend, dad! What +makes you think that?" + +"Because he is always singing your praises, both to me and your mother." + +"Then I tell you that his expressions of opinion are false, dear dad." + +"How?" + +She was silent. She dared not tell her father the reason; therefore, in +order to turn the subject, she replied, with a forced laugh, "Oh, well, +of course, I may be mistaken; but that's my opinion." + +"A mere prejudice, child; I'm sure it is. As far as I know, Flockart is +quite an excellent fellow, and is most kind both to your mother and to +myself." + +Gabrielle's brow contracted. Disengaging herself, she rose to her feet, +and, after a pause, asked, "What reply shall I send to the report, dad?" + +"Ah, that report!" gasped the man, huddled up in his chair in serious +reflection. "That report!" he repeated, rising to straighten himself. +"Reply in these words: 'No effort is to be made to save the child's +life. On the contrary, it is to be so neglected as to produce a fatal +termination.'" + +The girl had seated herself at the typewriter and rapidly clicked out +the words in French--words that seemed ominous enough, and yet the true +meaning of which she never dreamed. She was thinking only of her +father's misplaced friendship in James Flockart. If she dared to tell +him the naked truth! Oh, if her poor, blind, afflicted father could only +see! + + + +CHAPTER X + +DECLARES A WOMAN'S LOVE + +At nine o'clock that night Gabrielle left her father, and ascended to +her own pretty room, with its light chintz-covered furniture, its +well-filled bamboo bookcases, its little writing-table, and its narrow +bed in the alcove. It was a nest of rest and cosy comfort. + +Exchanging her tweed dress, she put on an easy dressing-gown of pale +blue cashmere, drew up an armchair, and, arranging her electric +reading-lamp, sat down to a new novel she intended to finish. + +Presently Elise came to her; but, looking up, she said she did not wish +to be disturbed, and again coiled herself up in the chair, endeavouring +to concentrate her thoughts upon her book. But all to no purpose. Ever +and anon she would lift her big eyes from the printed page, sigh, and +stare fixedly at the rose-coloured trellis pattern of the wall-paper +opposite. Upon her there had fallen a feeling of vague apprehension such +as she had never before experienced, a feeling that something was about +to happen. + +Lady Heyburn was, she knew, greatly annoyed that she had not made her +appearance at dinner or in the drawing-room afterwards. Generally, when +there were guests from the neighbourhood, she was compelled to sing one +or other of her Italian songs. Her refusal to come to dinner would, she +knew, cause her ladyship much chagrin, for it showed plainly to the +guests that her authority over her step-daughter was entirely at an end. + +Just as the stable-clock chimed half-past ten there came a light tap at +the door. It was Hill, who, on receiving permission to enter, said, "If +you please, miss, Mr. Murie has just asked me to give you this"; and he +handed her an envelope. + +Tearing it open eagerly, she found a visiting-card, upon which some +words were scribbled in pencil. For a moment after reading them she +paused. Then she said, "Tell Mr. Murie it will be all right." + +"Very well, miss," the man replied, and, bowing, closed the door. + +For a few moments she stood motionless in the centre of the room, her +lover's card still in her hand. Then she walked to the open window, and +looked out into the hot, oppressive night. The moon was hidden behind +dark clouds, and the stillness was precursory of the thunderstorm which +for the past hour or so had threatened. Across the room she paced slowly +several times, a deep, anxious expression upon her pale countenance; +then slowly she slipped off her gown and put on a dark stuff dress. + +Until the clock had struck eleven she waited. Then, assuming her +tam-o'-shanter and twisting a silk scarf about her neck, she crept along +the corridor and down the wide oak stairs. Lights were still burning; +but without detection she slipped out by the main door, and, crossing +the broad drive, took the winding path into the woods. + +The guests had all left, and the servants were closing the house for the +night. Scarce had she gone a hundred yards when a dark figure in +overcoat and a golf-cap loomed up before her, and she found Walter at +her side. + +"Why, dearest!" he exclaimed, taking her hand and bending till he +pressed it to his lips, "I began to fear you wouldn't come. Why haven't +I seen you to-night?" + +"Because--well, because I had a bad headache," was her lame reply. "I +knew that if I went in to dinner mother would want me to sing, and I +really didn't feel up to it. I hope, however, you haven't been bored too +much." + +"You know I have!" he said quickly in a low, earnest voice. "I came here +purposely to see you, and you were invisible. I've run the car down the +farm-road on the other side of the park, and left it there. The mater +went home in the carriage nearly an hour ago. She's afraid to go in the +car when I drive." + +Slowly they strolled together along the dark path, he with her arm held +tenderly under his own. + +"Think, darling," he said, "I haven't seen you for four whole days! Why +is it? Yesterday I went to the usual spot at the end of the glen, and +waited nearly two hours; but you did not come, although you promised me, +you know. Why are you so indifferent, dearest?" he asked in a plaintive +tone. "I can't really make you out of late." + +"I'm not indifferent at all, Walter," she declared. "My father has very +much to attend to just now, and I'm compelled to assist him, as you are +well aware. He's so utterly helpless." + +"Oh, but you might spare me just half-an-hour sometimes," he said in a +slight tone of reproach. + +"I do. Why, we surely see each other very often!" + +"Not often enough for me, Gabrielle," he declared, halting in the +darkness and raising her soft little hand to his eager lips. "You know +well enough how fondly I love you, how--" + +"I know," she said in a sad, blank tone. Her own heart beat fast at his +passionate words. + +"Then why do you treat me like this?" he asked. "Is it because I have +annoyed you, that you perhaps think I am not keeping faith with you? I +know I was absent a long time, but it was really not my own fault. My +people made me go round the world. I didn't want to, I assure you. I'd +far rather have been up here at Connachan all the time, and near you, my +own well-beloved." + +"I believe you would, Walter," she answered, turning towards him with +her hand upon his shoulder. "But I do wish you wouldn't reproach me for +my undemonstrativeness each time we meet. It saddens me." + +"I know I ought not to reproach you," he hastened to assure her. "I have +no right to do so; but somehow you have of late grown so sphinx-like +that you are not the Gabrielle I used to know." + +"Why not?" And she laughed, a strange, hollow laugh. "Explain yourself." + +"In the days gone by, before I went abroad, you were not so particular +about our meetings being clandestine. You did not care who saw us or +what people might say." + +"I was a girl then. I have now learnt wisdom, and the truth of the +modern religion which holds that the only sin is that of being found +out." + +"But why are you so secret in all your actions?" he demanded. "Whom do +you fear?" + +"Fear!" she echoed, starting and staring in his direction. "Why, I fear +nobody! What--what makes you think that?" + +"Because it has lately struck me that you meet me in secret +because--well, because you are afraid of someone, or do not wish us to +be seen." + +"Why, how very foolish!" she laughed. "Don't my father and mother both +know that we love each other? Besides, I am surely my own mistress. I +would never marry a man I don't love," she added in a tone of quiet +defiance. + +"And am I to take it that you really do love me, after all?" he inquired +very earnestly. + +"Why, of course," she replied without hesitation, again placing her arm +about his neck and kissing him. "How foolish of you to ask such a +question, Walter! When will you be convinced that the answer I gave you +long ago was the actual truth?" + +"Men who love as fervently as I do are apt to be somewhat foolish," he +declared. + +"Then don't be foolish any longer," she urged in a matter-of-fact voice, +lifting her lips to his and kissing him. "You know I love you, Walter; +therefore you should also know that it I avoid you in public I have some +good reason for doing so." + +"A reason!" he cried. "What reason? Tell me." + +She shook her head. "That is my own affair," she responded. "I repeat +again that my affection for you is undiminished, if such repetition +really pleases you, as it seems to do." + +"Of course it pleases me, dearest," he declared. "No words are sweeter +to my ears than the declaration of your love. My only regret is that, +now I am at home again, I do not see so much of you, sweetheart, as I +had anticipated." + +"Walter," she exclaimed in a slow, changed voice, after a brief silence, +"there is a reason. Please do not ask me to tell you--because--well, +because I can't." And, drawing a long breath, she added, "All I beg of +you is to remain patient and trust in me. I love you; and I love no +other man. Surely that should be, for you, all-sufficient. I am yours, +and yours only." + +In an instant he had folded her slight, dainty form in his arms. The +young man was satisfied, perfectly satisfied. + +They strolled on together through the wood, and out across the open +corn-fields. The moon had come forth again, the storm-clouds had passed, +and the night was perfect. Though she was trying against her will to +hold aloof from Walter Murie, yet she loved him with all her heart and +soul. Many letters she had addressed to him in his travels had remained +unanswered. This had, in a measure, piqued her. But she was in ignorance +that much of his correspondence and hers had fallen into the hands of +her ladyship and been destroyed. + +As they walked on, talking as lovers will, she was thinking deeply, and +full of regret that she dared not tell the truth to this man who, loving +her so fondly, would, she knew, be prepared to make any sacrifice for +her sake. Suppose he knew the truth! Whatever sacrifice he made would, +alas! not alter facts. If she confessed, he would only hate her. Ah, the +tragedy of it all! Therefore she held her silence; she dared not speak +lest she might lose his love. She had no friend in whom she could +confide. From her own father, even, she was compelled to hide the actual +facts. They were too terrible. What would he think if the bitter truth +were exposed? + +The man at her side, tall, brave, strong--a lover whom she knew many +girls coveted--believed that he was to marry her. But, she told herself +within her grief-stricken heart, such a thing could never be. A barrier +stood between them, invisible, yet nevertheless one that might for ever +debar their mutual happiness. + +An involuntary sigh escaped her, and he inquired the reason. She excused +herself by saying that it was owing to the exertion of walking over the +rough path. Therefore they halted, and, with the bright summer moonbeams +falling upon her beautiful countenance, he kissed her passionately upon +the lips again and yet again. + +They remained together for over an hour, moving along slowly, heedless +of where their footsteps led them; heedless, too, of being seen by any +of the keepers who, at night, usually patrolled the estate. Their walk, +however, lay at the farther end of the glen, in the coverts remote from +the house and nearer the high-road; therefore there was but little +danger of being observed. + +Many were the pledges of affection they exchanged before parting. On +Walter's part they were fervent and passionate, but on the part of his +idol they were, alas! only the pretence of a happiness which she feared +could never be permanent. + +Presently they retraced their steps to the edge of the wood beyond which +lay the house. They found the path, and there, at her request, he left +her. It was not wise that he should approach the house at that hour, she +urged. + +So, after a long and fervent leave-taking, he held her in a last +embrace, and then, raising his cap, and saying, "Good-night, my darling, +my own well-beloved!" he turned away and went at a swinging pace down +the farm-road where he had left his car with lights extinguished. + +She watched him disappear. Then, sighing, she turned into the dark, +winding path beneath the trees, the end of which came out upon the drive +close to the house. + +Half-way down, however, with sudden resolve, she took a narrower path to +the left, and was soon on the outskirts of the wood and out again in the +bright moonlight. + +The night was so glorious that she had resolved to stroll alone, to +think and devise some plan for the future. Before her, silhouetted high +against the steely sky, rose the two great, black, ivy-clad towers of +the ancient castle. The grim, crumbling walls stood dark and frowning +amid the fairy-like scene, while from far below came up the faint +rippling of the Ruthven Water. A great owl flapped lazily from the ivy +as she approached those historic old walls which in bygone days had held +within them some of Scotland's greatest men. She had explored and knew +every nook and cranny in those extensive ruins. With Walter's +assistance, she had once made a perilous ascent to the top of the +highest of the two square towers, and had often clambered along the +broken walls of the keep or descended into those strange little +subterranean chambers, now half-choked with earth and rubbish, which +tradition declared were the dungeons in which prisoners in the old days +had been put to the rack, seared with red-hot irons, or submitted to +other horrible tortures. + +Her feet falling noiselessly, she entered the grass-grown courtyard, +where stood the ancient spreading yew, the "dule-tree," under which the +Glencardine charters had been signed and justice administered. Other big +trees had sprung from seedlings since the place had fallen into ruin; +and, having entered, she paused amidst its weird, impressive silence. +Those high, ponderous walls about her spoke mutely of strength and +impregnability. Those grass-grown mounds hid ruined walls and broken +foundations. What tales of wild lawlessness and reckless bloodshed they +all could tell! + +Many of the strange stories she had heard concerning the old +place--stories told by the people in the neighbourhood--were recalled as +she stood there gazing wonderingly about her. Many romantic legends had, +indeed, been handed down in Perthshire from generation to generation +concerning old Glencardine and its lawless masters, and for her they had +always possessed a strange fascination, for had she not inherited the +antiquarian tastes of her father, and had she not read many works upon +folklore and such-like subjects. + +Suddenly, while standing in the deep shadow, gazing thoughtfully up at +those high towers which, though ruined, still guarded the end of the +glen, a strange thing occurred--something which startled her, causing +her to halt breathless, petrified, rooted to the spot. She stared +straight before her. Something uncanny was happening there, something +that was, indeed, beyond human credence, and quite inexplicable. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CONCERNS THE WHISPERS + +What had startled Gabrielle was certainly extraordinary and decidedly +uncanny. She was standing near the southern wall, when, of a sudden, she +heard low but distinct whispers. Again she listened. Yes. The sounds +were not due to her excited imagination at the recollection of those +romantic traditions of love and hatred, or of those gruesome stories of +how the Wolf of Badenoch had been kept prisoner there for five years and +put to frightful tortures, or how the Laird of Weem was deliberately +poisoned in that old banqueting-hall, the huge open fireplace of which +still existed near where she stood. + +There was the distinct sound of low, whispered words! She held her +breath to listen. She tried to distinguish what the words were, but in +vain. Then she endeavoured to determine whence they emanated, but was +unable to do so. Again they sounded--again--and yet again. Then there +was another voice, still low, still whispering, but not quite so deep as +the first. It sounded like a woman's. + +Local tradition had it that the place held the ghosts of those who had +died in agony within its noisome dungeons; but she had always been far +too matter-of-fact to accept stories of the supernatural. Yet at that +moment her ears did not deceive her. That pile of grim, gaunt ruins was +a House of Whispers! + +Again she listened, never moving a muscle. An owl hooted weirdly in the +ivy far above her, while near, at her feet, a rabbit scuttled away +through the grass. Such noises she was used to. She knew every +night-sound of the country-side; for when she had finished her work in +the library she often went, unknown to the household, with Stewart upon +his nocturnal rounds, and walked miles through the woods in the night. +The grey-eyed, thin-nosed head-keeper was her particular favourite. He +knew so much of natural history, and he taught her all he knew. She +could distinguish the cries of birds in the night, and could tell by +certain sounds made by them, as they were disturbed, that no other +intruders were in the vicinity. But that weird whispering, coming as it +did from an undiscovered source, was inhuman and utterly uncanny. + +Was it possible that her ears had deceived her? Was it one of the omens +believed in by the superstitious? The wall whence the voices appeared to +emanate was, she knew, about seven feet thick--an outer wall of the old +keep. She was aware of this because in one of the folio tomes in the +library was a picture of the castle as it appeared in 1510, taken from +some manuscript of that period preserved in the British Museum. She, who +had explored the ruins dozens of times, knew well that at the point +where she was standing there could be no place of concealment. Beyond +that wall, the hill, covered with bushes and brushwood, descended sheer +for three hundred feet or so to the bottom of the glen. Had the voices +sounded from one or other of the half-choked chambers which remained +more or less intact she would not have been so puzzled; but, as it was, +the weird whisperings seemed to come forth from space. Sometimes they +sounded so low that she could scarcely hear them; at others they were so +loud that she could almost distinguish the words uttered by the unseen. +Was it merely a phenomenon caused by the wind blowing through some crack +in the ponderous lichen-covered wall? + +She looked beyond at the great dark yew, the justice-tree of the +Grahams. The night was perfectly calm. Not a leaf stirred either upon +that or upon the other trees. The ivy, high above and exposed to the +slightest breath of a breeze, was motionless; only the going and coming +of the night-birds moved it. No. She decided once and for all that the +noise was that of voices, spectral voices though they might be. + +Again she strained her eyes, when still again those soft, sibilant +whisperings sounded weird and quite inexplicable. + +Slowly, and with greatest caution, she moved along beneath the wall, but +as she did so she seemed to recede from the sound. So back she went to +the spot where she had previously stood, and there again remained +listening. + +There were two distinct voices; at least that was the conclusion at +which she arrived after nearly a quarter of an hour of most minute +investigation. + +Once she fancied, in her excitement, that away in the farther corner of +the ruined courtyard she saw a slowly moving form like a thin column of +mist. Was it the Lady of Glencardine--the apparition of the hapless Lady +Jane Glencardine? But on closer inspection she decided that it was +merely due to her own distorted imagination, and dismissed it from her +mind. + +Those low, curious whisperings alone puzzled her. They were certainly +not sounds that could be made by any rodents within the walls, because +they were voices, distinctly and indisputably _voices_, which at some +moments were raised in argument, and then fell away into sounds of +indistinct murmuring. Whence did they come? She again moved noiselessly +from place to place, at length deciding that only at one point--the +point where she had first stood--could the sounds be heard distinctly. +So to that spot once more the girl returned, standing there like a +statue, her ears strained for every sound, waiting and wondering. But +the Whispers had now ceased. In the distance the stable-clock chimed +two. Yet she remained at her post, determined to solve the mystery, and +not in the least afraid of those weird stories which the country-folk in +the Highlands so entirely believed. No ghost, of whatever form, could +frighten her, she told herself. She had never believed in omens or +superstitions, and she steeled herself not to believe in them now. So +she remained there in patience, seeking some natural solution of the +extraordinary enigma. + +But though she waited until the chimes rang out three o'clock and the +moon was going down, she heard no other sound. The Whispers had suddenly +ended, and the silence of those gaunt, frowning old walls was +undisturbed. A slight wind had now sprung up, sweeping across the hills, +and causing her to feel chill. Therefore, at last she was reluctantly +compelled to quit her post of observation, and retrace her steps by the +rough byroad to the house, entering by one of the windows of the +morning-room, of which the burglar-alarm was broken, and which on many +occasions she had unfastened after her nocturnal rambles with Stewart. +Indeed, concealed under the walls she kept an old rusted table-knife, +and by its aid it was her habit to push back the catch and so gain +entrance, after reconcealing the knife for use on a future occasion. + +On reaching her own room she stood for a few moments reflecting deeply +upon her remarkable and inexplicable discovery. Had the story of those +whisperings been told to her she would certainly have scouted them; but +she had heard them with her own ears, and was certain that she had not +been deceived. It was a mystery, absolute and complete; and, regarding +it as such, she retired to bed. + +But her thoughts were very naturally full of the weird story told of the +dead and gone owners of Glencardine. She recollected that horrible story +of the Ghaist of Manse and of the spectre of Bridgend. In the library +she had, a year ago, discovered a strange old book--one which sixty +years before had been in universal circulation--entitled _Satan's +Invisible World Discovered_, and she had read it from beginning to end. +This book had, perhaps, more influence upon the simple-minded country +people in Scotland than any other work. It consisted entirely of +relations of ghosts of murdered persons, witches, warlocks, and fairies; +and as it was read as an indoor amusement in the presence of children, +and followed up by unfounded tales of the same description, the +youngsters were afraid to turn round in case they might be grasped by +the "Old One." So strong, indeed, became this impression that even +grown-up people would not venture, through fear, into another room or +down a stair after nightfall. + +Her experience in the old castle had, to say the least, been remarkable. +Those weird whisperings were extraordinary. For hours she lay reflecting +upon the many traditions of the old place, some recorded in the historic +notices of the House of the Montrose, and others which had gathered from +local sources--the farmers of the neighbourhood, the keepers, and +servants. Those noises in the night were mysterious and puzzling. + +Next morning she went alone to the kennels to find Stewart and to +question him. He had told her many weird stories and traditions of the +old place, and it struck her that he might be able to furnish her with +some information regarding her strange discovery. Had anyone else heard +those Whispers besides herself, she wondered. + +She met several of the guests, but assiduously avoided them, until at +last she saw the thin, long-legged keeper going towards his cottage with +Dash, the faithful old spaniel, at his heels. + +When she hailed him he touched his cap respectfully, changed his gun to +the other arm, and wished her "Guid-mornin', Miss Gabrielle," in his +strong Scotch accent. + +She bade him put down his gun and walk with her up the hill towards the +ruins. + +"Look here, Stewart," she commanded in a confidential tone, "I'm going +to take you into my confidence. I know I can trust you with a secret." + +"Ye may, miss," replied the keen-eyed Scot. "I houp Sir Henry trusts me +as a faithfu' servant. I've been on Glencardine estate noo, miss, thae +forty year." + +"Stewart, we all know you are faithful, and that you can keep your +tongue still. What I'm about to tell you is in strictest confidence. Not +even my father knows it." + +"Ah! then it's a secret e'en frae the laird, eh?" + +"Yes," she replied. "I want you to come up to the old castle with me," +pointing to the great ruined pile standing boldly in the summer +sunlight, "and I want you to tell me all you know. I've had a very +uncanny experience there." + +"What, miss!" exclaimed the man, halting and looking her seriously in +the face; "ha'e ye seen the ghaist?" + +"No, I haven't seen any ghost," replied the girl; "but last night I +heard most extraordinary sounds, as though people were within the old +walls." + +"Guid sake, miss! an' ha'e ye actually h'ard the Whispers?" he gasped. + +"Then other people have heard them, eh?" inquired the girl quickly. +"Tell me all you know about the matter, Stewart." + +"A'?" he said, slowly shaking his head. "I ken but a wee bittie aboot +the noises." + +"Who has heard them besides myself?" + +"Maxwell o'Tullichuil's girl. She said she h'ard the Whispers ae nicht +aboot a year syne. They're a bad omen, miss, for the lassie deed sudden +a fortnicht later." + +"Did anyone else hear them?" + +"Auld Willie Buchan, wha lived doon in Auchterarder village, declared +that ae nicht, while poachin' for rabbits, he h'ard the voices. He telt +the doctor sae when he lay in bed a-deein' aboot three weeks +aifterwards. Ay, miss, I'm sair sorry ye've h'ard the Whispers." + +"Then they're regarded as a bad omen to those who overhear them?" she +remarked. + +"That's sae. There's bin ithers wha acted as eavesdroppers, an' they a' +deed very sune aifterwards. There was Jean Kirkwood an' Geordie +Menteith. The latter was a young keeper I had here aboot a year syne. He +cam' tae me ae mornin' an' said that while lyin' up for poachers the +nicht afore, he distinc'ly h'ard the Whispers. Kennin' what folk say +aboot the owerhearin' o' them bein' fatal, I lauched at 'im an' told 'im +no' to tak' ony tent o' auld wives' gossip. But, miss, sure enough, +within a week he got blood-pizinin', an', though they took 'im to the +hospital in Perth, he deed." + +"Then popular superstition points to the fact that anyone who +accidentally acts as eavesdropper is doomed to death, eh? A very nice +outlook for me!" she remarked. + +"Oh, Miss Gabrielle!" exclaimed the man, greatly concerned, "dinna treat +the maitter lichtly, I beg o' ye. I did, wi' puir Menteith, an' he deed +juist like the ithers." + +"But what does it all mean?" asked the daughter of the house in a calm, +matter-of-fact voice. She knew well that Stewart was just as +superstitious as any of his class, for some of the stories he had told +her had been most fearful and wonderful elaborations of historical fact. + +"It means, I'm fear'd, miss," he replied, "that the Whispers which come +frae naewhere are fore-warnin's o' daith." + + + +CHAPTER XII + +EXPLAINS SOME CURIOUS FACTS + +Gabrielle was silent for a moment. No doubt Stewart meant what he said; +he was not endeavouring to alarm her unduly, but thoroughly believed in +supernatural agencies. "I suppose you've already examined the ruins +thoroughly, eh?" she asked at last. + +"Examined them?" echoed the gray-bearded man. "I should think sae, +aifter forty-odd years here. Why, as a laddie I used to play there ilka +day, an' ha'e been in ilka neuk an' cranny." + +"Nevertheless, come up now with me," she said. "I want to explain to you +exactly where and how I heard the voices." + +"The Whispers are an uncanny thing," said the keeper, with his broad +accent. "I dinna like them, miss; I dinna like tae hear what ye tell me +ava." + +"Oh, don't worry about me, Stewart," she laughed. "I'm not afraid of any +omen. I only mean to fathom the mystery, and I want your assistance in +doing so. But, of course, you'll say no word to a soul. Remember that." + +"If it be yer wush, Miss Gabrielle, I'll say naething," he promised. And +together they descended the steep grass-slope and overgrown foundations +of the castle until they stood in the old courtyard, close to the +ancient justice-tree, the exact spot where the girl had stood on the +previous night. + +"I could hear plainly as I stood just here," she said. "The sound of +voices seemed to come from that wall there"; and she pointed to the gray +flint wall, half-overgrown with ivy, about six yards away. + +Stewart made no remark. It was not the first occasion on which he had +examined that place in an attempt to solve the mystery of the nocturnal +whisperings. He walked across to the wall, tapping it with his hand, +while the faithful spaniel began sniffing in expectancy of something to +bolt. "There's naething here, miss--absolutely naething," he declared, +as they both examined the wall minutely. Its depth did not admit of any +chamber, for it was an inner wall; and, according to the gamekeeper's +statement, he had already tested it years ago, and found it solid +masonry. + +"If I went forward or backward, then the sounds were lost to me," +Gabrielle explained, much puzzled. + +"Ay. That's juist what they a' said," remarked the keeper, with an +apprehensive look upon his face. "The Whispers are only h'ard at ae +spot, whaur ye've juist stood. I've seen the lady a' in green masel', +miss--aince when I was a laddie, an' again aboot ten year syne." + +"You mean, Stewart, that you imagined that you saw an apparition. You +were alone, I suppose?" + +"Yes, miss, I was alane." + +"Well, you thought you saw the Lady of Glencardine. Where was she?" + +"On the drive, in front o' the hoose." + +"Perhaps somebody played a practical joke on you. The Green Lady is +Glencardine's favourite spectre, isn't she--perfectly harmless, I mean?" + +"Ay, miss. Lots o' folk saw her ten year syne. But nooadays she seems to +ha'e been laid. Somebody said they saw her last Glesca holidays, but I +dinna believe 't." + +"Neither do I, Stewart. But don't let's trouble about the unfortunate +lady, who ought to have been at rest long ago. It's those weird +whisperings I mean to investigate." And she looked blankly around her at +the great, cyclopean walls and high, weather-beaten towers, gaunt yet +picturesque in the morning sunshine. + +The keeper shook his shaggy head. "I'm afear'd, Miss Gabrielle, that +ye'll ne'er solve the mystery. There's somethin' sae fatal aboot the +whisperin's," he said, speaking in his pleasant Highland tongue, "that +naebody cares tae attempt the investigation. They div say that the +Whispers are the voice o' the De'il himsel'." + +The girl, in her short blue serge skirt, white cotton blouse, and blue +tam-o'-shanter, laughed at the man's dread. There must be a distinct +cause for this noise she had heard, she argued. Yet, though they both +spent half-an-hour wandering among the ruins, standing in the roofless +banqueting hall, and traversing stone corridors and lichen-covered, +moss-grown, ruined chambers choked with weeds, their efforts to obtain +any clue were all in vain. + +To Gabrielle it was quite evident that the old keeper regarded the +incident of the previous night as a fatal omen, for he was most +solicitous of her welfare. He went so far as to crave permission to go +to Sir Henry and put the whole of the mysterious facts before him. + +But she would not hear of it. She meant to solve the mystery herself. If +her father learnt of the affair, and of the ill-omen connected with it, +the matter would surely cause him great uneasiness. Why should he be +worried on her account? No, she would never allow it, and told Stewart +plainly of her disapproval of such a course. + +"But, tell me," she asked at last, as returning to the courtyard, they +stood together at the spot where she had stood in that moonlit hour and +heard with her own ears those weird, mysterious voices coming from +nowhere--"tell me, Stewart, is there any legend connected with the +Whispers? Have you ever heard any story concerning their origin?" + +"Of coorse, miss. Through all Perthshire it's weel kent," replied the +man slowly, not, it seemed, without considerable reluctance. "What is +h'ard by those doomed tae daith is the conspiracy o' Charles Lord +Glencardine an' the Earl o' Kintyre for the murder o' the infamous +Cardinal Setoun o' St. Andrews, wha, as I dare say ye ken fra history, +miss, was assassinated here, on this very spot whaur we stan'. The Earl +o' Kintyre, thegither wi' Lord Glencardine, his dochter Mary, an' ane o' +the M'Intyres o' Talnetry, an' Wemyss o' Strathblane, were a year later +tried by a commission issued under the name o' Mary Queen o' Scots; but +sae popular was the murder o' the Cardinal that the accused were +acquitted." + +"Yes," exclaimed the girl, "I remember reading something about it in +Scottish history. And the Whispers are, I suppose, said to be the +ghostly conspirators in conclave." + +"That's what folk say, miss. They div say as weel that Auld Nick himsel' +was present, an' gied the decision that the Cardinal, wha was to be +askit ower frae Stirlin', should dee. It is his evil counsel that is +h'ard by those whom death will quickly overtake." + +"Really, Stewart," she laughed, "you make me feel quite uncomfortable." + +"But, miss, Sir Henry already kens a' aboot the Whispers," said the man. +"I h'ard him tellin' a young gentleman wha cam' doon last shootin' +season a guid dale aboot it. They veesited the auld castle thegither, +an' I happened tae be hereaboots." + +This caused the girl to resolve to learn from her father what she could. +He was an antiquary, and had the history of Glencardine at his +finger-ends. + +So presently she strolled back to Stewart's cottage, and after receiving +from the faithful servant urgent injunctions to "have a care" of +herself, she walked on to the tennis-lawn, where, shaded by the high +trees, Lady Heyburn, in white serge, and three of her male guests were +playing. + +"Father," she said that same evening, when they had settled down to +commence work upon those ever-arriving documents from Paris, "what was +the cause of Glencardine becoming a ruin?" + +"Well, the reason of its downfall was Lord Glencardine's change of +front," he answered. "In 1638 he became a stalwart supporter of +Episcopacy and Divine Right, a course which proved equally fatal to +himself and to his ancient Castle of Glencardine. Reid, in his _Annals +of Auchterarder_, relates how, after the Civil War, Lord Dundrennan, in +company with his cousin, George Lochan of Ochiltree, and burgess of +Auchterarder and the Laird of M'Nab, descended into Strathearn and +occupied the castle with about fifty men. He hurriedly put it into a +state of defence. General Overton besieged the place in person, with his +army, consisting of eighteen hundred foot and eleven hundred horse, and +battered the walls with cannon, having brought a number of great +ordnance from Stirling Castle. For ten days the castle was held by the +small but resolute garrison, and might have held out longer had not the +well failed. With the prospect of death before them in the event of the +place being taken, Dundrennan and Lochan contrived to break through the +enemy, who surrounded the castle on all sides. A page of the name of +John Hamilton, in attendance upon Lord Dundrennan, well acquainted with +the localities of Glencardine, undertook to be their guide. When the +moon was down, Dundrennan and Lochan issued from the castle by a small +postern, where they found Hamilton waiting for them with three horses. +They mounted, and, passing quietly through the enemy's force, they +escaped, and reached Lord Glencardine in safety to the north. On the +morning after their escape the castle was surrendered, and thirty-five +of the garrison were sent to the Tolbooth of Edinburgh. General Overton +ordered the remaining twelve of those who had surrendered to be shot at +a post, and the castle to be burned, which was accordingly done." + +"The country-folk in the neighbourhood are full of strange stories about +ghostly whisperings being heard in the castle ruins," she remarked. + +Her father started, and raising his expressionless face to hers, asked +in almost a snappish tone, "Well, and who has heard them now, pray?" + +"Several people, I believe." + +"And they're gossiping as usual, eh?" he remarked in a hard, dry tone. +"Up here in the Highlands they are ridiculously superstitious. Who's +been telling you about the Whispers, child?" + +"Oh, I've learnt of them from several people," she replied evasively. +"Mysterious voices were heard, they say, last night, and for several +nights previously. It's also a local tradition that all those who hear +the whispered warning die within forty days." + +"Bosh, my dear! utter rubbish!" the old man laughed. "Who's been trying +to frighten you?" + +"Nobody, dad. I merely tell you what the country people say." + +"Yes," he remarked, "I know. The story is a gruesome one, and in the +Highlands a story is not attractive unless it has some fatality in it. +Up here the belief in demonology and witchcraft has died very hard. Get +down Penny's _Traditions of Perth_--first shelf to the left beyond the +second window, right-hand corner. It will explain to you how very +superstitious the people have ever been." + +"I know all that, dad," persisted the girl; "but I'm interested in this +extraordinary story of the Whispers. You, as an antiquary, have, no +doubt, investigated all the legendary lore connected with Glencardine. +The people declare that the Whispers are heard, and, I am told, believe +some extraordinary theory regarding them." + +"A theory!" he exclaimed quickly. "What theory? What has been +discovered?" + +"Nothing, as far as I know." + +"No, and nothing ever will be discovered," he said. + +"Why not, dad?" she asked. "Do you deny that strange noises are heard +there when there is so much evidence in the affirmative?" + +"I really don't know, my dear. I've never had the pleasure of hearing +them myself, though I've been told of them ever since I bought the +place." + +"But there is a legend which is supposed to account for them, is there +not, dad? Do tell me what you know," she urged. "I'm so very much +interested in the old place and its bygone history." + +"The less you know concerning the Whispers the better, my dear," he +replied abruptly. + +Her father's ominous words surprised her. Did he, too, believe in the +fatal omen, though he was trying to mislead her and poke fun at the +local superstition? + +"But why shouldn't I know?" she protested. "This is the first time, dad, +that you've tried to withhold from me any antiquarian knowledge that you +possess. Besides, the story of Glencardine and its lords is intensely +fascinating to me." + +"So might be the Whispers, if ever you had the misfortune to hear them." + +"Misfortune!" she gasped, turning pale. "Why do you say misfortune?" + +But he laughed a strange, hollow laugh, and, endeavouring to turn his +seriousness into humour, said, "Well, they might give you a turn, +perhaps. They would make me start, I feel sure. From what I've been +told, they seem to come from nowhere. It is practically an unseen +spectre who has the rather unusual gift of speech." + +It was on the tip of her tongue to explain how, on the previous night, +she had actually listened to the Whispers. But she refrained. She +recognised that, though he would not admit it, he was nevertheless +superstitious of ill results following the hearing of those weird +whisperings. So she made eager pretence of wishing to know the +historical facts of the incident referred to by the gamekeeper. + +"No," exclaimed the blind man softly but firmly, taking her hand and +stroking her arm tenderly, as was his habit when he wished to persuade +her. "No, Gabrielle dear," he said; "we will change the subject now. Do +not bother your head about absurd country legends of that sort. There +are so many concerning Glencardine and its lords that a whole volume +might be filled with them." + +"But I want to know all about this particular one, dad," she said. + +"From me you will never know, my dear," was his answer, as his gray, +serious face was upturned to hers. "You have never heard the Whispers, +and I sincerely hope that you never will." + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +WHAT FLOCKART FORESAW + +The following afternoon was glaring and breathless. Gabrielle had taken +Stokes, with May Spencer (a girl friend visiting her mother), and driven +the "sixteen" over to Connachan with a message from her mother--an +invitation to Lady Murie and her party to luncheon and tennis on the +following day. It was three o'clock, the hour when silence is upon a +summer house-party in the country. Beneath the blazing sun Glencardine +lay amid its rose-gardens, its cut beech-hedges, and its bowers of +greenery. The palpitating heat was terrible--the hottest day that +summer. + +At the end of the long, handsome drawing-room, with its pale blue carpet +and silk-covered furniture, Lady Heyburn was lolling lazily in her chair +near the wide, bright steel grate, with her inseparable friend, James +Flockart, standing before her. + +The striped blinds outside the three long, open windows subdued the +sun-glare, yet the very odour of the cut flowers in the room seemed +oppressive, while without could be heard the busy hum of insect life. + +The Baronet's handsome wife looked cool and comfortable in her gown of +white embroidered muslin, her head thrown back upon the silken cushion, +and her eyes raised to those of the man, who was idly smoking a +cigarette, at her side. + +"The thing grows more and more inexplicable," he was saying to her in a +low, strained voice. "All the inquiries I've caused to be made in London +and in Paris have led to a negative result." + +"We shall only know the truth when we get a peep of those papers in +Henry's safe, my dear friend," was the woman's reply. + +"And that's a pretty difficult job. You don't know where the old fellow +keeps the key?" + +"I only wish I did. Gabrielle knows, no doubt." + +"Then you ought to compel her to divulge," he urged. "Once we get hold +of that key for half-an-hour, we could learn a lot." + +"A lot that would be useful to you, eh?" remarked the woman, with a +meaning smile. + +"And to you also," he said. "Couldn't we somehow watch and see where he +hides the safe-key? He never has it upon him, you say." + +"It isn't on his bunch." + +"Then he must have a hiding-place for it, or it may be on his +watch-chain," remarked the man decisively. "Get rid of all the guests as +quickly as you can, Winnie. While they're about there's always a danger +of eavesdroppers and of watchers." + +"I've already announced that I'm going up to Inverness next week, so +within the next day or two our friends will all leave." + +"Good! Then the ground will be cleared for action," he remarked, blowing +a cloud of smoke from his lips. "What's your decision regarding the +girl?" + +"The same as yours." + +"But she hates me, you know," laughed the man in gray flannel. + +"Yes; but she fears you at the same time, and with her you can do more +by fear than by love." + +"True. But she's got a spirit of her own, recollect." + +"That must be broken." + +"And what about Walter?" + +"Oh, as soon as he finds out the truth he'll drop her, never fear. He's +already rather fond of that tall, dark girl of Dundas's. You saw her at +the ball. You recollect her?" + +Flockart grunted. He was assisting this woman at his side to play a +desperate game. This was not, however, the first occasion on which they +had acted in conjunction in matters that were not altogether honourable. +There had never been any question of affection between them. The pair +regarded each other from a purely business standpoint. People might +gossip as much as ever they liked; but the two always congratulated +themselves that they had never committed the supreme folly of falling in +love with each other. The woman had married Sir Henry merely in order to +obtain money and position; and this man Flockart, who for years had been +her most intimate associate, had ever remained behind her, to advise and +to help her. + +Perhaps had the Baronet not been afflicted he would have disapproved of +this constant companionship, for he would, no doubt, have overheard in +society certain tittle-tattle which, though utterly unfounded, would not +have been exactly pleasant. But as he was blind and never went into +society, he remained in blissful ignorance, wrapped up in his mysterious +"business" and his hobbies. + +Gabrielle, on her return from school, had at first accepted Flockart as +her friend. It was he who took her for walks, who taught her to cast a +fly, to shoot rooks, and to play the national winter game of +Scotland--curling. He had in the first few months of her return home +done everything in his power to attract the young girl's friendship, +while at the same time her ladyship showed herself extraordinarily well +disposed towards her. + +Within a year, however, by reason of various remarks made by people in +her presence, and on account of the cold disdain with which Lady Heyburn +treated her afflicted father, vague suspicions were aroused within her, +suspicions which gradually grew to hatred, until she clung to her +father, and, as his eyes and ears, took up a position of open defiance +towards her mother and her adventurous friend. + +The situation each day grew more and more strained. Lady Heyburn was, +even though of humble origin, a woman of unusual intelligence. In +various quarters she had been snubbed and ridiculed, but she gradually +managed in every case to get the better of her enemies. Many a man and +many a woman had had bitter cause to repent their enmity towards her. +They marvelled how their secrets became known to her. + +They did not know the power behind her--the sinister power of that +ingenious and unscrupulous man, James Flockart--the man who made it his +business to know other people's secrets. Though for years he had been +seized with a desire to get at the bottom of Sir Henry's private +affairs, he had never succeeded. The old Baronet was essentially a +recluse; he kept himself so much to himself, and was so careful that no +eyes save those of his daughter should see the mysterious documents +which came to him so regularly by registered post, that all Flockart's +efforts and those of Lady Heyburn had been futile. + +"I had another good look at the safe this morning," the man went on +presently. "It is one of the best makes, and would resist anything, +except, of course, the electric current." + +"To force it would be to put Henry on his guard," Lady Heyburn remarked, +"If we are to know what secrets are there, and use our knowledge for our +own benefit, we must open it with a key and relock it." + +"Well, Winnie, we must do something. We must both have money--that's +quite evident," he said. "That last five hundred you gave me will stave +off ruin for a week or so. But after that we must certainly be well +supplied, or else there may be revelations well--which will be as ugly +for yourself as for me." + +"I know," she exclaimed. "I fully realise the necessity of getting +funds. The other affair, though we worked it so well, proved a miserable +fiasco." + +"And very nearly gave us away into the bargain," he declared. "I tell +you frankly, Winnie, that if we can't pay a level five thousand in three +weeks' time the truth will be out, and you know what that will mean." + +He was watching her handsome face as he spoke, and he noticed how pale +and drawn were her features as he referred to certain ugly truths that +might leak out. + +"Yes," she gasped, "I know, James. We'd both find ourselves under +arrest. Such a _contretemps_ is really too terrible to think of." + +"But, my dear girl, it must be faced," he said, "if we don't get the +money. Can't you work Sir Henry for a bit more, say another thousand. +Make an excuse that you have bills to pay in London--dressmakers, +jewellers, milliners--any good story will surely do. He gives you +anything you ask for." + +She shook her head and sighed. "I fear I've imposed upon his good-nature +far too much already," she answered. "I know I'm extravagant; I'm sorry, +but can't help it. Born in me, I suppose. A few months ago he found out +that I'd been paying Mellish a hundred pounds each time to decorate Park +Street with flowers for my Wednesday evenings, and he created an awful +scene. He's getting horribly stingy of late." + +"Yes; but the flowers were a bit expensive, weren't they?" he remarked. + +"Not at all. Lady Fortrose, the wife of the soap-man, pays two hundred +and fifty pounds for flowers for her house every Thursday in the season; +and mine looked quite as good as hers. I think Mellish is much cheaper +than anybody else. And, just because I went to a cheap man, Henry was +horrible. He said all sorts of weird things about my reckless +extravagance and the suffering poor--as though I had anything to do with +them. The genuine poor are really people like you and me." + +"I know," he said philosophically, lighting another cigarette. "But all +this is beside the point. We want money, and money we must have in order +to avoid exposure. You--" + +"I was a fool to have had anything to do with that other little affair," +she interrupted. + +"It was not only myself who arranged it. Remember, it was you who +suggested it, because it seemed so easy, and because you had an old +score to pay off." + +"The woman was sacrificed, and at the same time an enemy learnt our +secret." + +"I couldn't help it," he protested. "You let your woman's vindictiveness +overstep your natural caution, my dear girl. If you'd taken my advice +there would have been no suspicion." + +Lady Heyburn was silent. She sat regarding the toe of her patent-leather +shoe fixedly, in deep reflection. She was powerless to protest, she was +so entirely in this man's hands. "Well," she asked at last, stirring +uneasily in her chair, "and suppose we are not able to raise the money, +what do you anticipate will be the result?" + +"A rapid reprisal," was his answer. "People like them don't +hesitate--they act." + +"Yes, I see," she remarked in a blank voice. "They have nothing to lose, +so they will bring pressure upon us." + +"Just as we once tried to bring pressure upon them. It's all a matter of +money. We pay the price arranged--a mere matter of business." + +"But how are we to get money?" + +"By getting a glance at what's in that safe," he replied. "Once we get +to know this mysterious secret of Sir Henry's, I and my friends can get +money easily enough. Leave it all to me." + +"But how--" + +"This matter you will please leave entirely to me, Winnie," he repeated +with determination. "We are both in danger--great danger; and that being +so, it is incumbent upon me to act boldly and fearlessly. I mean to get +the key, and see what is within that safe." + +"But the girl?" asked her ladyship. + +"Within one week from to-day the girl will no longer trouble us," he +said with an evil glance. "I do not intend that she shall remain a +barrier against our good fortune any longer. Understand that, and remain +perfectly calm, whatever may happen." + +"But you surely don't intend--you surely will not--" + +"I shall act as I think proper, and without any sentimental advice from +you," he declared with a mock bow, but straightening himself instantly +when at the door was heard a fumbling, and the gray-bearded man in blue +spectacles, his thin white hand groping before him, slowly entered the +room. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +CONCERNS THE CURSE OF THE CARDINAL + +Gabrielle and Walter were seated together under one of the big oaks at +the edge of the tennis-lawn at Connachan. With May Spencer and Lady +Murie they had been playing; but his mother and the young girl had gone +into the house for tea, leaving the lovers alone. + +"What's the matter with you to-day, darling?" he had asked as soon as +they were out of hearing. "You don't seem yourself, somehow." + +She started quickly, and, pulling herself up, tried to smile, assuring +him that there was really nothing amiss. + +"I do wish you'd tell me what it is that's troubling you so," he said. +"Ever since I returned from abroad you've not been yourself. It's no use +denying it, you know." + +"I haven't felt well, perhaps. I think it must be the weather," she +assured him. + +But he, viewing the facts in the light of what he had noticed at their +almost daily clandestine meetings, knew that she was concealing +something from him. + +Before his departure on that journey to Japan she had always been so +very frank and open. Nowadays, however, she seemed to have entirely +changed. Her love for him was just the same--that he knew; it was her +unusual manner, so full of fear and vague apprehension, which caused him +so many hours of grave reflection. + +With her woman's cleverness, she succeeded in changing the topic of +conversation, and presently they rose to join his mother at the +tea-table in the drawing-room. + +Half-an-hour later, while they were idling in the hall together, she +suddenly exclaimed, "Walter, you're great on Scottish history, so I want +some information from you. I'm studying the legends and traditions of +our place, Glencardine. What do you happen to know about them?" + +"Well," he laughed, "there are dozens of weird tales about the old +castle. I remember reading quite a lot of extraordinary stories in some +book or other about three years ago. I found it in the library here." + +"Oh! do tell me all about it," she urged instantly. "Weird legends +always fascinate me. Of course I know just the outlines of its history. +It's the tales told by the country-folk in which I'm so deeply +interested." + +"You mean the apparition of the Lady in Green, and all that?" + +"Yes; and the Whispers." + +He started quickly at her words, and asked, "What do you know about +them, dear? I hope you haven't heard them?" + +She smiled, with a frantic effort at unconcern, saying, "And what harm, +pray, would they have done me, even if I had?" + +"Well," he said, "they are only heard by those whose days are numbered; +at least, so say the folk about here." + +"Of course, it's only a fable," she laughed. "The people of the Ochils +are so very superstitious." + +"I believe the fatal result of listening to those mysterious Whispers +has been proved in more than one instance," remarked the young man quite +seriously. "For myself, I do not believe in any supernatural agency. I +merely tell you what the people hereabouts believe. Nobody from this +neighbourhood could ever be induced to visit your ruins on a moonlit +night." + +"That's just why I want to know the origin of the unexplained +phenomenon." + +"How can I tell you?" + +"But you know--I mean you've heard the legend, haven't you?" + +"Yes," was his reply. "The story of the Whispers of Glencardine is well +known all through Perthshire. Hasn't your father ever told you?" + +"He refuses." + +"Because, no doubt, he fears that you might perhaps take it into your +head to go there one night and try to listen for them," her lover said. +"Do not court misfortune, dearest. Take my advice, and give the place a +very wide berth. There is, without a doubt, some uncanny agency there." + +The girl laughed outright. "I do declare, Walter, that you believe in +these foolish traditions," she said. + +"Well, I'm a Scot, you see, darling, and a little superstition is +perhaps permissible, especially in connection with such a mystery as the +strange disappearance of Cardinal Setoun." + +"Then, tell me the real story as you know it," she urged. "I'm much +interested. I only heard about the Whispers quite recently." + +"The historical facts, so far as I can recollect reading them in the +book in question," he said, "are to the effect that the Most Reverend +James Cardinal Setoun, Archbishop of St. Andrews, Chancellor of the +Kingdom, was in the middle of the sixteenth century directing all his +energies towards consolidating the Romish power in Scotland, and not +hesitating to resort to any crime which seemed likely to accomplish his +purpose. Many were the foul assassinations and terrible tortures upon +innocent persons performed at his orders. One person who fell into the +hands of this infamous cleric was Margaret, the second daughter of +Charles, Lord Glencardine, a beautiful girl of nineteen. Because she +would not betray her lover, she was so cruelly tortured in the +Cardinal's palace that she expired, after suffering fearful agony, and +her body was sent back to Glencardine with an insulting message to her +father, who at once swore to be avenged. The king had so far resigned +the conduct of the kingdom into the hands of his Eminence that nothing +save armed force could oppose him. Setoun knew that a union between +Henry VIII. and James V. would be followed by the downfall of the papal +power in Scotland, and therefore he laid a skilful plot. Whilst advising +James to resist the dictation of his uncle, he privately accused those +of the Scottish nobles who had joined the Reformers of meditated treason +against His Majesty. This placed the king in a serious dilemma, for he +could not proceed against Henry without the assistance of those very +nobles accused as traitors. The wily Cardinal had hoped that James +would, in self-defence, seek an alliance with France and Spain; but he +was mistaken. You know, of course, how the forces of the kingdom were +assembled and sent against the Duke of Norfolk. The invader was thus +repelled, and the Cardinal then endeavoured to organise a new expedition +under Romish leaders. This also failing, his Eminence endeavoured to +dictate to the country through the Earl of Arran, the Governor of +Scotland. By a clever ruse he pretended friendship with Erskine of Dun, +and endeavoured to use him for his own ends. Curiously enough, over +yonder"--and he pointed to a yellow parchment in a black ebony frame +hanging upon the panelled wall of the hall--"over there is one of the +Cardinal's letters to Erskine, which shows the infamous cleric's smooth, +insinuating style when it suited his purpose. I'll go and get it for you +to read." + +The young man rose, and, taking it down, brought it to her. She saw that +the parchment, about eight inches long by four wide, was covered with +writing in brown ink, half-faded, while attached was a formidable oval +red seal which bore a coat of arms surmounting the Cardinal's hat. + +With difficulty they made out this interesting letter to read as +follows: + +"RYCHT HONOURABLE AND TRAIST COUSING,--I commend me hartlie to you, +nocht doutting bot my lord governour hes written specialye to you at +this tyme to keep the diet with his lordship in Edinburgh the first day +of November nixt to cum, quhilk I dout nocht bot ye will kepe, and I +know perfitlie your guid will and mynd euer inclinit to serue my lord +governour, and how ye are nocht onnely determinit to serue his lordship, +at this tyme be yourself bot als your gret wais and solistatioun maid +with mony your gret freyndis to do the samin, quhilk I assuris you sall +cum bayth to your hier honour and the vele of you and your houss and +freyndis, quhilk ye salbe sure I sall procure and fortyfie euir at my +power, as I have shewin in mair speciale my mynd heirintil to your +cousin of Brechin, Knycht: Praing your effectuously to kepe trist, and +to be heir in Sanct Androwis at me this nixt Wedinsday, that we may +depairt all togydder by Thurisday nixt to cum, towart my lord governour, +and bring your frendis and servandis with you accordantly, and as my +lord governour hais speciale confidence in you at this tyme; and be sure +the plesour I can do you salbe evir reddy at my power as knawis God, +quha preserve you eternall. + +"At Sanct Androwis, the 25th day of October (1544). J. CARDINALL OFF +SANCT ANDROWIS. + +"To the rycht honourable and our rycht traist cousing the lard of Dvn." + +"Most interesting!" declared the young girl, holding the frame in her +hands. + +"It's doubly interesting, because it is believed that Erskine's brother +Henry, finding himself befooled by the crafty Cardinal, united with Lord +Glencardine to kill him and dispose of his body secretly, thus ridding +Scotland of one of her worst enemies," Walter went on. "For the past +five years stories had been continually leaking out of Setoun's inhuman +cruelty, his unscrupulous, fiendish tortures inflicted upon all those +who displeased him, and how certain persons who stood in his way had +died mysteriously or disappeared, no one knew whither. Hence it was +that, at Erskine's suggestion, Wemyss of Strathblane went over to +Glencardine, and with Charles, Lord Glencardine, conspired to invite the +Cardinal there, on pretence of taking counsel against the Protestants, +but instead to take his life. The conspirators were, it is said, joined +by the Earl of Kintyre and by Mary, the sixteen-year-old daughter of +Lord Charles, and sister of the poor girl so brutally done to death by +his Eminence. On several successive nights the best means of getting rid +of Setoun were considered and discussed, and it is declared that the +Whispers now heard sometimes at Glencardine are the secret deliberations +of those sworn to kill the infamous Cardinal. Mary, the daughter of the +house, was allowed to decide in what manner her sister's death should be +avenged, and at her suggestion it was resolved that the inhuman head of +the Roman Church should, before his life was taken, be put to the same +fiendish tortures as those to which her sister had been subjected in his +palace." + +"It is curious that after his crime the Cardinal should dare to visit +Glencardine," Gabrielle remarked. + +"Not exactly. His lordship, pretending that he wished to be appointed +Governor of Scotland in the place of the Earl of Arran, had purposely +made his peace with Setoun, who on his part was only too anxious to +again resume friendly relations with so powerful a noble. Therefore, +early in May, 1546, he went on a private visit, and almost unattended, +to Glencardine, within the walls of which fortress he disappeared for +ever. What exactly occurred will never be known. All that the Commission +who subsequently sat to try the conspirators were able to discover was +that the Cardinal had been taken to the dungeon beneath the north tower, +and there tortured horribly for several days, and afterwards burned at +the stake in the courtyard, the fire being ignited by Lord Glencardine +himself, and the dead Cardinal's ashes afterwards scattered to the +winds." + +"A terrible revenge!" exclaimed the girl with a shudder. "They were +veritable fiends in those days." + +"They were," he laughed, rehanging the frame upon the wall. "Some +historians have, of course, declared that Setoun was murdered at Mains +Castle, and others declare Cortachy to have been the scene of the +assassination; but the truth that it occurred at Glencardine is proved +by a quantity of the family papers which, when your father purchased +Glencardine, came into his possession. You ought to search through +them." + +"I will. I had no idea dad possessed any of the Glencardine papers," she +declared, much interested in that story of the past. "Perhaps from them +I may be able to glean something further regarding the strange Whispers +of Glencardine." + +"Make whatever searches you like, dearest," he said in all earnestness, +"but never attempt to investigate the Whispers themselves." And as they +were alone, he took her little hand in his, and looking into her face +with eyes of love, pressed her to promise him never to disregard his +warning. + +She told him nothing of her own weird experience. He was ignorant of the +fact that she had actually heard the mysterious Whispers, and that, as a +consequence, a great evil already lay upon her. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +FOLLOWS FLOCKART'S FORTUNES + +One evening, a few days later, Gabrielle, seated beside her father at +his big writing-table, had concluded reading some reports, and had +received those brief, laconic replies which the blind man was in the +habit of giving, when she suddenly asked, "I believe, dad, that you have +a quantity of the Glencardine papers, haven't you? If I remember aright, +when you bought the castle you made possession of these papers a +stipulation." + +"Yes, dear, I did," was his answer. "I thought it a shame that the +papers of such a historic family should be dispersed at Sotheby's, as +they no doubt would have been. So I purchased them." + +"You've never let me see them," she said. "As you know, you've taught me +so much antiquarian knowledge that I'm becoming an enthusiast like +yourself." + +"You can see them, dear, of course," was his reply. "They are in that +big ebony cabinet at the end of the room yonder--about two hundred +charters, letters, and documents, dating from 1314 down to 1695." + +"I'll go through them to-morrow," she said. "I suppose they throw a good +deal of light upon the history of the Grahams and the actions of the +great Lord Glencardine?" + +"Yes; but I fear you'll find them very difficult to read," he remarked. +"Not being able to see them for myself, alas! I had to send them to +London to be deciphered." + +"And you still have the translations?" + +"Unfortunately, no, dear. Professor Petre at Oxford, who is preparing +his great work on Glencardine, begged me to let him see them, and he +still has them." + +"Well," she laughed, "I must therefore content myself with the +originals, eh? Do they throw any further light upon the secret agreement +in 1644 between the great Marquess of Glencardine, whose home was here, +and King Charles?" + +"Really, Gabrielle," laughed the old antiquary, "for a girl, your +recollection of abstruse historical points is wonderful." + +"Not at all. There was a mystery, I remember, and mysteries always +attract me." + +"Well," he replied after a few moments' hesitation, "I fear you will not +find the solution of that point, or of any other really important point, +contained in any of the papers. The most interesting records they +contain are some relating to Alexander Senescallus (Stewart), the fourth +son of Robert II., who was granted in 1379 a Castle of Garth. He was a +reprobate, and known as the Wolf of Badenoch. On his father's accession +in 1371, he was granted the charters of Badenoch, with the Castle of +Lochindorb and of Strathavon; and at a slightly later date he was +granted the lands of Tempar, Lassintulach, Tulachcroske, and Gort +(Garth). As you know, many traditions regarding him still survive; but +one fact contained in yonder papers is always interesting, for it shows +that he was confined in the dungeon of the old keep of Glencardine until +Robert III. released him. There are also a quantity of interesting facts +regarding 'Red Neil,' or Neil Stewart of Fothergill, who was Laird of +Garth, which will some day be of value to future historians of +Scotland." + +"Is there anything concerning the mysterious fate of Cardinal Setoun +within Glencardine?" asked the girl, unable to curb her curiosity. + +"No," he replied in a manner which was almost snappish. "That's a mere +tradition, my dear--simply a tale invented by the country-folk. It seems +to have been imagined in order to associate it with the mysterious +Whispers which some superstitious people claim to have heard. No old +castle is complete nowadays without its ghost, so we have for our share +the Lady of Glencardine and the Whispers," he laughed. + +"But I thought it was a matter of authenticated history that the +Cardinal was actually enticed here, and disappeared!" exclaimed the +girl. "I should have thought that the Glencardine papers would have +referred to it," she added, recollecting what Walter had told her. + +"Well, they don't; so why worry your head, dear, over a mere fable? I +have already gone very carefully into all the facts that are proved, and +have come to the conclusion that the story of the torture of his +Eminence is a fairy-tale, and that the supernatural Whispers have only +been heard in imagination." + +She was silent. She recollected that sound of murmuring voices. It was +certainly not imagination. + +"But you'll let me have the key of the cabinet, won't you, dad?" she +asked, glancing across to where stood a beautiful old Florentine cabinet +of ebony inlaid with ivory, and reaching almost to the ceiling. + +"Certainly, Gabrielle dear," was the reply of the expressionless man. +"It is upstairs in my room. You shall have it to-morrow." + +And then he lapsed again into silence, reflecting whether it were not +best to secure certain parchment records from those drawers before his +daughter investigated them. There was a small roll of yellow parchment, +tied with modern tape, which he was half-inclined to conceal from her +curious gaze. Truth to tell, they constituted a record of the torture +and death of Cardinal Setoun much in the same manner as Walter Murie had +described to her. If she read that strange chronicle she might, he +feared, be impelled to watch and endeavour to hear the fatal Whispers. + +Strange though it was, yet those sounds were a subject which caused him +daily apprehension. Though he never referred to them save to ridicule +every suggestion of their existence, or to attribute the weird noises to +the wind, yet never a day passed but he sat calmly reflecting. That one +matter which his daughter knew above all others caused him the most +serious thought and apprehension--a fear which had become doubly +increased since she had referred to the curious and apparently +inexplicable phenomenon. He, a refined, educated man of brilliant +attainments, scouted the idea of any supernatural agency. To those who +had made mention of the Whispers--among them his friend Murie, the Laird +of Connachan; Lord Strathavon, from whom he had purchased the estate; +and several of the neighbouring landowners--he had always expressed a +hope that one day he might be fortunate enough to hear the whispered +counsel of the Evil One, and so decide for himself its true cause. He +pretended always to treat the affair with humorous incredulity, yet at +heart he was sorely troubled. + +If his young wife's remarkable friendship with the man Flockart often +caused him bitter thoughts, then the mysterious Whispers and the +fatality so strangely connected with them were equally a source of +constant inquietude. + +A few days later Flockart, with clever cunning, seemed to alter his +ingenious tactics completely, for suddenly he had commenced to bestir +himself in Sir Henry's interests. One morning after breakfast, taking +the Baronet by the arm, he led him for a stroll along the drive, down to +the lodge-gates, and back, for the purpose, as he explained, of speaking +with him in confidence. + +At first the blind man was full of curiosity as to the reason of this +unusual action, as those deprived of sight usually are. + +"I know, Sir Henry," Flockart said presently, and not without +hesitation, "that certain ill-disposed people have endeavoured to place +an entirely wrong construction upon your wife's friendship towards me. +For that reason I have decided to leave Glencardine, both for her sake +and for yours." + +"But, my dear fellow," exclaimed the blind man, "why do you suggest such +a thing?" + +"Because your wife's enemies have their mouths full of scandalous lies," +he replied. "I tell you frankly, Sir Henry, that my friendship with her +ladyship is a purely platonic one. We were children together, at home in +Bedford, and ever since our schooldays I have remained her friend." + +"I know that," remarked the old man quietly. "My wife told me that when +you dined with us on several occasions at Park Street. I have never +objected to the friendship existing between you, Flockart; for, though I +have never seen you, I have always believed you to be a man of honour." + +"I feel very much gratified at those words, Sir Henry," he said in a +deep, earnest voice, glancing at the grey, dark-spectacled face of the +fragile man whose arm he was holding. "Indeed, I've always hoped that +you would repose sufficient confidence in me to know that I am not such +a blackguard as to take any advantage of your cruel affliction." + +The blind Baronet sighed. "Ah, my dear Flockart! all men are not +honourable like yourself. There are many ready to take advantage of my +lack of eyesight. I have experienced it, alas! in business as well as in +my private life." + +The dark-faced man was silent. He was playing an ingenious, if +dangerous, game. The Baronet had referred to business--his mysterious +business, the secret of which he was now trying his best to solve. +"Yes," he said at length, "I suppose the standard of honesty in business +is nowadays just about as low as it can possibly be, eh? Well, I've +never been in business myself, so I don't know. In the one or two small +financial deals in which I've had a share, I've usually been 'frozen +out' in the end." + +"Ah, Flockart," sighed the Laird of Glencardine, "you are unfortunately +quite correct. The so-called smart business man is the one who robs his +neighbour without committing the sin of being found out." + +This remark caused the other a twinge of conscience. Did he intend to +convey any hidden meaning? He was full of cunning and cleverness. +"Well," Flockart exclaimed, "I'm truly gratified to think that I retain +your confidence, Sir Henry. If I have in the past been able to be of any +little service to Lady Heyburn, I assure you I am only too delighted. +Yet I think that in the face of gossip which some of your neighbours +here are trying to spread--gossip started, I very much fear, by Miss +Gabrielle--my absence from Glencardine will be of distinct advantage to +all concerned. I do not, my dear Sir Henry, desire for one single moment +to embarrass you, or to place her ladyship in any false position. I----" + +"But, my dear fellow, you've become quite an institution with us!" +exclaimed Sir Henry in dismay. "We should all be lost without you. Why, +as you know, you've done me so many kindnesses that I can never +sufficiently repay you. I don't forget how, through your advice, I've +been able to effect quite a number of economies at Caistor, and how +often you assist my wife in various ways in her social duties." + +"My dear Sir Henry," he laughed, "you know I'm always ready to serve +either of you whenever it lies in my power. Only--well, I feel that I'm +in your wife's company far too much, both here and in Lincolnshire. +People are talking. Therefore, I have decided to leave her, and my +decision is irrevocable." + +"Let them talk. If I do not object, you surely need not." + +"But for your wife's sake?" + +"I know--I know how cruel are people's tongues, Flockart," remarked the +old man. + +"Yes; and the gossip was unfortunately started by Gabrielle. It was +surely very unwise of her." + +"Ah!" sighed the other, "it is the old story. Every girl becomes jealous +of her step-mother. And she's only a child, after all," he added +apologetically. + +"Well, much as I esteem her, and much as I admire her, I feel, Sir +Henry, that she had no right to bring discord into your house. I hope +you will permit me to say this, with all due deference to the fact that +she's your daughter. But I consider her conduct in this matter has been +very unfriendly." + +Again the Baronet was silent, and his companion saw that he was +reflecting deeply. "How do you know that the scandal was started by +her?" he asked presently, in a low, rather strained voice. + +"Young Paterson told me so. It appears that when she was staying with +them over at Tullyallan she told his mother all sorts of absurd stories. +And Mrs. Paterson who, as you know, is a terrible gossip--told the Reads +of Logie and the Redcastles, and in a few days these fictions, with all +sorts of embroidery, were spread half over Scotland. Why, my friend +Lindsay, the member for Berwick, heard some whispers the other day in +the Carlton Club! So, in consequence of that, Sir Henry, I'm resolved, +much against my will and inclination, I assure you, to end my friendship +with your wife." + +"All this pains me more than I can tell you," declared the old man. "The +more so, too, that Gabrielle should have allowed her jealousy to lead +her to make such false charges." + +"Yes. In order not to pain you. I have hesitated to tell you this for +several weeks. But I really thought that you ought at least to know the +truth, and who originated the scandal. And so I have ventured to-day to +speak openly, and to announce my departure," said the wily Flockart. He +was putting to the test the strength of his position in that household. +He had an ulterior motive, one that was ingenious and subtle. + +"But you are not really going?" exclaimed the other. "You told me the +other day something about my factor Macdonald, and your suspicions of +certain irregularities." + +"My dear Sir Henry, it will be far better for us both if I leave. To +remain will only be to lend further colour to these scandalous rumours. +I have decided to leave your house." + +"You believe that Macdonald is dishonest, eh?" inquired the afflicted +man quickly. + +"Yes, I'm certain of it. Remember, Sir Henry, that when one is dealing +with a man who is blind, it is sometimes a great temptation to be +dishonest." + +"I know, I know," sighed the other deeply. They were at a bend in the +drive where the big trees met overhead, forming a leafy tunnel. The +ascent was a trifle steep, and the Baronet had paused for a few seconds, +leaning heavily upon the arm of his friend. + +"Oh, pardon me!" exclaimed Flockart suddenly, releasing his arm. "Your +watch-chain is hanging down. Let me put it right for you." And for a few +seconds he fumbled at the chain, at the same time holding something in +the palm of his left hand. "There, that's right," he said a few minutes +later. "You caught it somewhere, I expect." + +"On one of the knobs of my writing-table perhaps," said the other. +"Thanks. I sometimes inadvertently pull it out of my pocket." + +A faint smile of triumph passed across the dark, handsome face of the +man, who again took his arm, as at the same time he replaced something +in his own jacket-pocket. He had in that instant secured what he wanted. + +"You were saying with much truth, my dear Flockart, that in dealing with +a man who cannot see there is occasionally a temptation towards +dishonesty. Well, this very day I intend to have a long chat with my +wife, but before I do so will you promise me one thing?" + +"And what is that?" asked the man, not without some apprehension. + +"That you will remain here, disregard the gossip that you may have +heard, and continue to assist me in my helplessness in making full and +searching inquiry into Macdonald's alleged defalcations." + +The man reflected for a few seconds, with knit brows. His quick wits +were instantly at work, for he saw with the utmost satisfaction that he +had been entirely successful in disarming all suspicion; therefore his +next move must be the defeat of that man's devoted defender, Gabrielle, +the one person who stood between his own penniless self and fortune. + +"I really cannot at this moment make any promise, Sir Henry," he +remarked at last. "I have decided to go." + +"But defer your decision for the present. There is surely no immediate +hurry for your departure! First let me consult my wife," urged the +Baronet, putting out his hand and groping for that of Flockart, which he +pressed warmly as proof of his continued esteem. "Let me talk to +Winifred. She shall decide whether you go or whether you shall stay." + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +SHOWS A GIRL'S BONDAGE + +Walter Murie had chosen politics as a profession long ago, even when he +was an undergraduate. He had already eaten his dinners in London, and +had been called to the Bar as the first step towards a political career. +He had a relative in the Foreign Office, while his uncle had held an +Under-Secretaryship in the late Government. Therefore he had influence, +and hoped by its aid to secure some safe seat. Already he had studied +both home and foreign affairs very closely, and had on two occasions +written articles in the _Times_ upon that most vexed and difficult +question, the pacification of Macedonia. He was a very fair speaker, +too, and on several occasions he had seconded resolutions and made quite +clever speeches at political gatherings in his own county, Perthshire. +Indeed, politics was his hobby; and, with money at his command and +influence in high quarters, there was no reason why he should not within +the next few years gain a seat in the House. With Sir Henry Heyburn he +often had long and serious chats. The brilliant politician, whose career +had so suddenly and tragically been cut short, gave him much good +advice, pointing out the special questions he should study in order to +become an authority. This is the age of specialising, and in politics it +is just as essential to be a specialist as it is in the medical, legal, +or any other profession. + +In a few days the young man was returning to his dingy chambers in the +Temple, to pore again over those mouldy tomes of law; therefore almost +daily he ran over to Glencardine to chat with the blind Baronet, and to +have quiet walks with the sweet girl who looked so dainty in her fresh +white frocks, and whose warm kisses were so soft and caressing. + +Surely no pair, even in the bygone days of knight and dame, the days of +real romance, were more devoted to each other. With satisfaction he saw +that Gabrielle's apparent indifference had now worn off. It had been but +the mask of a woman's whim, and as such he treated it. + +One afternoon, after tea out on the lawn, they were walking together by +the bypath to the lodge in order to meet Lady Heyburn, who had gone into +the village to visit a bedridden old lady. Hand-in-hand they were +strolling, for on the morrow he was going south, and would probably be +absent for some months. + +The girl had allowed herself to remain in her lover's arms in one long +kiss of perfect ecstasy. Then, with a sigh of regret, she had held his +hand and gone forward again without a word. When Walter had left, the +sun of her young life would have set, for after all it was not exactly +exciting to be the eyes and ears of a man who was blind. And there was +always at her side that man whom she hated, and who, she knew, was her +bitterest foe--James Flockart. + +Of late her father seemed to have taken him strangely into his +confidence. Why, she could not tell. A sudden change of front on the +Baronet's part was unusual; but as she watched with sinking heart she +could not conceal from herself the fact that Flockart now exercised +considerable influence over her father--an influence which in some +matters had already proved to be greater than her own. + +It was of this man Walter spoke. "I have a regret, dearest--nay, more +than a regret, a fear--in leaving you here alone," he exclaimed in a +low, distinct voice, gazing into the blue, fathomless depths of those +eyes so very dear to him. + +"A fear! Why?" she asked in some surprise, returning his look. + +"Because of that man--your mother's friend," he said. "Recently I have +heard some curious tales concerning him. I really wonder why Sir Henry +still retains him as his guest." + +"Why need we speak of him?" she exclaimed quickly, for the subject was +distasteful. + +"Because I wish you to be forewarned," he said in a serious voice. "That +man is no fitting companion for you. His past is too well known to a +certain circle." + +"His past!" she echoed. "What have you discovered concerning him?" + +Her companion did not answer for a few moments. How could he tell her +all that he had heard? His desire was to warn her, yet he could not +relate to her the allegations made by certain persons against Flockart. + +"Gabrielle," he said, "all that I have heard tends to show that his +friendship for you and for your father is false; therefore avoid +him--beware of him." + +"I--I know," she faltered, lowering her eyes. "I've felt that was the +case all along, yet I----" + +"Yet what?" he asked. + +"I mean I want you to promise me one thing, Walter," she said quickly. +"You love me, do you not?" + +"Love you, my own darling! How can you ask such a question? You surely +know that I do!" + +"Then, if you really love me, you will make me a promise." + +"Of what?" + +"Only one thing--one little thing," she said in a low, earnest voice, +looking straight into his eyes. "If--if that man ever makes an +allegation against me, you won't believe him?" + +"An allegation! Why, darling, what allegation could such a man ever make +against you?" + +"He is my enemy," she remarked simply. + +"I know that. But what charge could he bring against you? Why, if even +he dared to utter a single word against you, I--I'd wring the ruffian's +neck!" + +"But if he did, Walter, you wouldn't believe him, would you?" + +"Of course I wouldn't." + +"Not--not if the charge he made against me was a terrible one--a--a +disgraceful one?" she asked in a strained voice after a brief and +painful pause. + +"Why, dearest!" he cried, "what is the matter? You are really not +yourself to-day. You seem to be filled with a graver apprehension even +than I am. What does it mean? Tell me." + +"It means, Walter, that that man is Lady Heyburn's friend; hence he is +my enemy." + +"And what need you fear when you have me as your friend?" + +"I do not fear if you will still remain my friend--always--in face of +any allegation he makes." + +"I love you, darling. Surely that's sufficient guarantee of my +friendship?" + +"Yes," she responded, raising her white, troubled face to his while he +bent and kissed her again on the lips. "I know that I am yours, my own +well-beloved; and, as yours, I will not fear." + +"That's right!" he exclaimed, endeavouring to smile. "Cheer up. I don't +like to see you on this last day down-hearted and apprehensive like +this." + +"I am not so without cause." + +"Then, what is the cause?" he demanded. "Surely you can repose +confidence in me?" + +Again she was silent. Above them the wind stirred the leaves, and +through the high bracken a rabbit scuttled at their feet. They were +alone, and she stood again locked in her lover's fond embrace. + +"You have told me yourself that man Flockart is my enemy," she said in a +low voice. + +"But what action of his can you fear? Surely you should be forearmed +against any evil he may be plotting. Tell me the truth, and I will go +myself to your father and denounce the fellow before his face!" + +"Ah, no!" she cried, full of quick apprehension. "Never think of doing +that, Walter!" + +"Why? Am I not your friend?" + +"Such a course would only bring his wrath down upon my head. He would +retaliate quickly, and I alone would suffer." + +"But, my dear Gabrielle," he exclaimed, "you really speak in enigmas. +Whatever can you fear from a man who is known to be a blackguard--whom I +could now, at this very moment, expose in such a manner that he would +never dare to set foot in Perthshire again?" + +"Such a course would be most injudicious, I assure you. His ruin would +mean--it would mean--my--own!" + +"I don't follow you." + +"Ah, because you do not know my secret--you----" + +"Your secret!" the young man gasped, staring at her, yet still holding +her trembling form in his strong arms. "Why, what do you mean? What +secret?" + +"I--I cannot tell you!" she exclaimed in a hard, mechanical voice, +looking straight before her. + +"But you must," he protested. + +"I--I asked you, Walter, to make me a promise," she said, her voice +broken by emotion--"a promise that, for the sake of the love you bear +for me, you will not believe that man, that you will disregard any +allegation against me." + +"And I promise, on one condition, darling--that you tell me in +confidence what I, as your future husband, have a just right to +know--the nature of this secret of yours." + +"Ah, no!" she cried, unable longer to restrain her tears, and burying +her pale, beautiful face upon his arm. "I--I was foolish to have spoken +of it," she sobbed brokenly: "I ought to have kept it to myself. It +is--it's the one thing that I can never reveal to you--to you of all +men!" + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +DESCRIBES A FRENCHMAN'S VISIT + +"Monsieur Goslin, Sir Henry," Hill announced, entering his master's room +one morning a fortnight later, just as the blind man was about to +descend to breakfast. "He's in the library, sir." + +"Goslin!" exclaimed the Baronet, in great surprise. "I'll go to him at +once; and Hill, serve breakfast for two in the library, and tell Miss +Gabrielle that I do not wish to be disturbed this morning." + +"Very well, Sir Henry;" and the man bowed and went down the broad oak +staircase. + +"Goslin here, without any announcement!" exclaimed the Baronet, speaking +to himself. "Something must have happened. I wonder what it can be." He +tugged at his collar to render it more comfortable; and then, with a +groping hand on the broad balustrade, he felt his way down the stairs +and along the corridor to the big library, where a stout, grey-haired +Frenchman came forward to greet him warmly, after carefully closing the +door. + +"Ah, _mon cher ami_!" he began; and, speaking in French, he inquired +eagerly after the Baronet's health. He was rather long-faced, with beard +worn short and pointed, and his dark, deep-set eyes and his countenance +showed a fund of good humour. "This visit is quite unexpected," +exclaimed Sir Henry. "You were not due till the 20th." + +"No; but circumstances have arisen which made my journey imperative, so +I left the Gare du Nord at four yesterday afternoon, was at Charing +Cross at eleven, had half-an-hour to catch the Scotch express at King's +Cross, and here I am." + +"Oh, my dear Goslin, you always move so quickly! You're simply a marvel +of alertness." + +The other smiled, and, with a shrug of the shoulders, said, "I really +don't know why I should have earned a reputation as a rapid traveller, +except, perhaps, by that trip I made last year, from Paris to +Constantinople, when I remained exactly thirty-eight minutes in the +Sultan's capital. But I did my business there, nevertheless, even though +I got through quicker than _messieurs les touristes_ of the most +estimable Agence Cook." + +"You want a wash, eh?" + +"Ah, no, my friend. I washed at the hotel in Perth, where I took my +morning coffee. When I come to Scotland I carry no baggage save my +tooth-brush in my pocket, and a clean collar across my chest, its ends +held by my braces." + +The Baronet laughed heartily. His friend was always most resourceful and +ingenious. He was a mystery to all at Glencardine, and to Lady Heyburn +most of all. His visits were always unexpected, while as to who he +really was, or whence he came, nobody--not even Gabrielle herself--knew. +At times the Frenchman would take his meals alone with Sir Henry in the +library, while at others he would lunch with her ladyship and her +guests. On these latter occasions he proved himself a most amusing +cosmopolitan, and at the same time exhibited an extreme courtliness +towards every one. His manner was quite charming, yet his presence there +was always puzzling, and had given rise to considerable speculation. + +Hill came in, and after helping the Frenchman to take off his heavy +leather-lined travelling-coat, laid a small table for two and prepared +breakfast. + +Then, when he had served it and left, Goslin rose, and, crossing to the +door, pushed the little brass bolt into its socket. Returning to his +chair opposite the blind man (whose food Hill had already cut up for +him), he exclaimed in a very calm, serious voice, speaking in French, "I +want you to hear what I have to say, Sir Henry, without exciting +yourself unduly. Something has occurred--something very strange and +remarkable." + +The other dropped his knife, and sat statuesque and expressionless. "Go +on," he said hoarsely. "Tell me the worst at once." + +"The worst has not yet happened. It is that which I'm dreading." + +"Well, what has happened? Is--is the secret out?" + +"The secret is safe--for the present." + +The blind man drew a long breath. "Well, that's one thing to be thankful +for," he gasped. "I was afraid you were going to tell me that the facts +were exposed." + +"They may yet be exposed," the mysterious visitor exclaimed. "That's +where lies the danger." + +"We have been betrayed, eh? You may as well admit the ugly truth at +once, Goslin!" + +"I do not conceal it, Sir Henry. We have." + +"By whom?" + +"By somebody here--in this house." + +"Here! What do you mean? Somebody in my own house?" + +"Yes. The Greek affair is known. They have been put upon their guard in +Athens." + +"By whom?" cried the Baronet, starting from his chair. + +"By somebody whom we cannot trace--somebody who must have had access to +your papers." + +"No one has had access to my papers. I always take good care of that, +Goslin--very good care of that. The affair has leaked out at your end, +not at mine." + +"At our end we are always circumspect," the Frenchman said calmly. "Rest +assured that nobody but we ourselves are aware of our operations or +intentions. We know only too well that any revelation would assuredly +bring upon us--disaster." + +"But a revelation has actually been made!" exclaimed Sir Henry, bending +forward. "Therefore the worst is to be feared." + +"Exactly. That is what I am endeavouring to convey." + +"The betrayal must have come from your end, I expect; not from here." + +"I regret to assert that it came from here--from this very room." + +"How do you know that?" + +"Because in Athens they have a complete copy of one of the documents +which you showed me on the last occasion I was here, and which we have +never had in our possession." + +The blind man was silent. The allegation admitted of no argument. + +"My daughter Gabrielle is the only person who has seen it, and she +understands nothing of our affairs, as you know quite well." + +"She may have copied it." + +"My daughter would never betray me, Goslin," said Sir Henry in a hard, +distinct voice, rising from the table and slowly walking down the long, +book-lined room. + +"Has no one else been able to open your safe and examine its contents?" +asked the Frenchman, glancing over to the small steel door let into the +wall close to where he was sitting. + +"No one. Though I'm blind, do you consider me a fool? Surely I recognise +only too well how essential is secrecy. Have I not always taken the most +extraordinary precautions?" + +"You have, Sir Henry. I quite admit that. Indeed, the precautions you've +taken would, if known to the world, be regarded--well, as simply +amazing." + +"I hope the world will never know the truth." + +"It will know the truth. They have the copies in Athens. If there is a +traitor--as we have now proved the existence of one--then we can never +in future rest secure. At any moment another exposure may result, with +its attendant disaster." + +The Baronet halted before one of the long windows, the morning sunshine +falling full upon his sad, grey face. He drew a long sigh and said, +"Goslin, do not let us discuss the future. Tell me exactly what is the +present situation." + +"The present situation," the Frenchman said in a dry, matter-of-fact +voice, "is one full of peril for us. You have, over there in your safe, +a certain paper--a confidential report which you received direct from +Vienna. It was brought to you by special messenger because its nature +was not such as should be sent through the post. A trusted official of +the Austrian Ministry of Foreign Affairs brought it here. To whom did he +deliver it?" + +"To Gabrielle. She signed a receipt." + +"And she broke the seals?" + +"No. I was present, and she handed it to me. I broke the seals myself. +She read it over to me." + +"Ah!" ejaculated the Frenchman suspiciously. "It is unfortunate that you +are compelled to entrust our secrets to a woman." + +"My daughter is my best friend; indeed, perhaps my only friend." + +"Then you have enemies?" + +"Who has not?" + +"True. We all of us have enemies," replied the mysterious visitor. "But +in this case, how do you account for that report falling into the hands +of the people in Athens? Who keeps the key of the safe?" + +"I do. It is never out of my possession." + +"At night what do you do with it?" + +"I hide it in a secret place in my room, and I sleep with the door +locked." + +"Then, as far as you are aware, nobody has ever had possession of your +key--not even mademoiselle your daughter?" + +"Not even Gabrielle. I always lock and unlock the safe myself." + +"But she has access to its contents when it is open," the visitor +remarked. "Acting as your secretary, she is, of course, aware of a good +deal of your business." + +"No; you are mistaken. Have we not arranged a code in order to prevent +her from satisfying her woman's natural inquisitiveness?" + +"That's admitted. But the document in question, though somewhat guarded, +is sufficiently plain to any one acquainted with the nature of our +negotiations." + +The blind man crossed to the safe, and with the key upon his chain +opened it, and, after fumbling in one of the long iron drawers revealed +within, took out a big oblong envelope, orange-coloured, and secured +with five black seals, now, however, broken. + +This he handed to his friend, saying, "Read it again, to refresh your +memory. I know myself what it says pretty well by heart." + +Monsieur Goslin drew forth the paper within and read the lines of close, +even writing. It was in German. He stood near the window as he read, +while Sir Henry remained near the open safe. + +Hill tapped at the bolted door, but his master replied that he did not +wish to be disturbed. "Yes," the Frenchman said at last, "the copy they +have in Athens is exact--word for word." + +"They may have obtained it from Vienna." + +"No; it came from here. There are some pencilled comments in your +daughter's handwriting." + +"They were dictated by me." + +"Exactly. And they appear in the copy now in the hands of the people in +Athens! Thus it is doubly proved that it was this actual document which +was copied. But by whom?" + +"Ah!" sighed the helpless man, his face drawn and paler than usual, +"Gabrielle is the only person who has had sight of it." + +"Mademoiselle surely could not have copied it," remarked the Frenchman. +"Has she a lover?" + +"Yes; the son of a neighbour of mine, a very worthy young fellow." + +Goslin grunted dubiously. It was apparent that he suspected her of +trickery. Information such as had been supplied to the Greek Government +would, he knew, be paid for, and at a high price. Had mademoiselle's +lover had a hand in that revelation? + +"I would not suggest for a single moment, Sir Henry, that mademoiselle +your daughter would act in any way against your personal interests; +but--" + +"But what?" demanded the blind man fiercely, turning towards his +visitor. + +"Well, it is peculiar--very peculiar--to say the least." + +Sir Henry was silent. Within himself he was compelled to admit that +certain suspicion attached to Gabrielle. And yet was she not his most +devoted--nay, his only--friend? "Some one has copied the report--that's +evident," he said in a low, hard voice, reflecting deeply. + +"And by so doing has placed us in a position of grave peril, Sir +Henry--imminent peril," remarked the visitor. "I see in this an attempt +to obtain further knowledge of our affairs. We have a secret enemy, who, +it seems, has found a vulnerable point in our armour." + +"Surely my own daughter cannot be my enemy?" cried the blind man in +dismay. + +"You say she has a lover," remarked the Frenchman, speaking slowly and +with deliberation. "May not he be the instigator?" + +"Walter Murie is upright and honourable," replied the blind man. "And +yet--" A long-drawn sigh prevented the conclusion of that sentence. + +"Ah, I know!" exclaimed the mysterious visitor in a tone of sympathy. +"You are uncertain in your conclusions because of your terrible +affliction. Sometimes, alas! my dear friend, you are imposed upon, +because you are blind." + +"Yes," responded the other, bitterly. "That is the truth, Goslin. +Because I cannot see like other men, I have been deceived--foully and +grossly deceived and betrayed! But--but," he cried, "they thought to +ruin me, and I've tricked them, Goslin--yes, tricked them! Have no fear. +For the present our secrets are our own!" + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +REVEALS THE SPY + +The Twelfth--the glorious Twelfth--had come and gone. "The rush to the +North" had commenced from London. From Euston, St. Pancras, and King's +Cross the night trains for Scotland had run in triplicate, crowded by +men and gun-cases and kit-bags, while gloomy old Perth station was a +scene of unwonted activity each morning. + +At Glencardine there were little or no grouse; therefore it was not +until later that Sir Henry invited his usual party. + +Gabrielle had been south to visit one of her girlfriends near Durham, +and the week of her absence her afflicted father had spent in dark +loneliness, for Flockart had gone to London, and her ladyship was away +on a fortnight's visit to the Pelhams, down at New Galloway. + +On the last day of August, however, Gabrielle returned, being followed a +few hours later by Lady Heyburn, who had travelled up by way of Stirling +and Crieff Junction, while that same night eight men forming the +shooting-party arrived by the day express from the south. + +The gathering was a merry one. The guests were the same who came up +there every year, some of them friends of Sir Henry in the days of his +brilliant career, others friends of his wife. The shooting at +Glencardine was always excellent; and Stewart, wise and serious, had +prophesied first-class sport. + +Walter Murie was in London. While Gabrielle had been at Durham he had +travelled up there, spent the night at the "Three Tuns," and met her +next morning in that pretty wooded walk they call "the Banks." Devoted +to her as he was, he could not bear any long separation; while she, on +her part, was gratified by this attention. Not without some difficulty +did she succeed in getting away from her friends to meet him, for a +provincial town is not like London, and any stranger is always in the +public eye. But they spent a delightful couple of hours together, +strolling along the footpath through the meadows in the direction of +Finchale Priory. There were no eavesdroppers; and he, with his arm +linked in hers, repeated the story of his all-conquering love. + +She listened in silence, then raising her fine clear eyes to his, said, +"I know, Walter--I know that you love me. And I love you also." + +"Ah," he sighed, "if you would only be frank with me, dearest--if you +would only be as frank with me as I am with you!" + +Sadly she shook her head, but made no reply. He saw that a shadow had +clouded her brow, that she still clung to her strange secret; and at +length, when they retraced their steps back to the city, he reluctantly +took leave of her, and half-an-hour later was speeding south again +towards York and King's Cross. + +The opening day of the partridge season proved bright and pleasant. The +men were out early; and the ladies, a gay party, including Gabrielle, +joined them at luncheon spread on a mossy bank about three miles from +the castle. Several of the male guests were particularly attentive to +the dainty, sweet-faced girl whose charming manner and fresh beauty +attracted them. But Gabrielle's heart was with Walter always. She loved +him. Yes, she told herself so a dozen times each day. And yet was not +the barrier between them insurmountable? Ah, if he only knew! If he only +knew! + +The blind man was left alone nearly the whole of that day. His daughter +had wanted to remain with him, but he would not hear of it. "My dear +child," he had said, "you must go out and lunch. You really must assist +your mother in entertaining the people." + +"But, dear dad, I much prefer to remain with you and help you," she +protested. "Yesterday the Professor sent you five more bronze matrices +of ecclesiastical seals. We haven't yet examined them." + +"We'll do so to-night, dear," he said. "You go out to-day. I'll amuse +myself all right. Perhaps I'll go for a little walk." + +Therefore the girl had, against her inclination, joined the +luncheon-party, where foremost of all to have her little attentions was +a rather foppish young stockbroker named Girdlestone, who had been up +there shooting the previous year, and had on that occasion flirted with +her furiously. + +During her absence her father tried to resume his knitting--an +occupation which he had long ago been compelled to resort to in order to +employ his time; but he soon put it down with a sigh, rose, and taking +his soft brown felt-hat and stout stick, tapped his way along through +the great hall and out into the park. + +He felt the warmth upon his cheek as he passed slowly along down the +broad drive. "Ah," he murmured to himself, "if only I could once again +see God's sunlight! If I could only see the greenery of nature and the +face of my darling child!" and he sighed brokenly, and went on, his chin +sunk upon his breast, a despairing, hopeless man. Surely no figure more +pathetic than his could be found in the whole of Scotland. Upon him had +been showered honour, great wealth, all indeed that makes life worth +living, and yet, deprived of sight, he existed in that world of +darkness, deceived and plotted against by all about him. His grey +countenance was hard and thoughtful as he passed slowly along tapping +the ground before him, for he was thinking--ever thinking--of the +declaration of his French visitor. He had been betrayed. But by whom? + +His thoughts were wandering back to those days when he could see--those +well-remembered days when he had held the House in silence by his +brilliant oratory, and when the papers next day had leading articles +concerning his speeches. He recollected his time-mellowed old club in +St. James's Street--Boodle's--of which he had been so fond. Then came +his affliction. The thought of it all struck him suddenly; and, +clenching his hands, he murmured some inarticulate words through his +teeth. They sounded strangely like a threat. Next instant, however, he +laughed bitterly to himself the dry, harsh laugh of a man into whose +very soul the iron had entered. + +In the distance he could hear the shots of his guests, those men who +accepted his hospitality, and who among themselves agreed that he was "a +terrible bore, poor old fellow!" They came up there--with perhaps two +exceptions--to eat his dinners, drink his choice wines, and shoot his +birds, but begrudged him more than ten minutes or so of their company +each day. In the billiard-room of an evening, as he sat upon one of the +long lounges, they would perhaps deign to chat with him; but, alas! he +knew that he was only as a wet blanket to his wife's guests, hence he +kept himself so much to the library--his own domain. + +That night he spent half-an-hour in the billiard-room in order to hear +what sport they had had, but very soon escaped, and with Gabrielle +returned again to the library to fulfil his promise and examine the +seal-matrices which the Professor had sent. + +To where they sat came bursts of boisterous laughter and of the +waltz-music of the pianola in the hall, for in the shooting season the +echoes of the fine mansion were awakened by the merriment of as gay a +crowd as any who assembled in the Highlands. + +Sir Henry heard it. The sounds jarred upon his nerves. Mirth such as +theirs was debarred him for ever, and he had now become gloomy and +misanthropic. He sat fingering those big oval matrices of bronze, +listening to Gabrielle's voice deciphering the inscriptions, and +explaining what was meant and what was possibly their history. One which +Sir Henry declared to be the gem of them all bore the _manus Dei_ for +device, and was the seal of Archbishop Richard (1174-84). Several +documents bearing impressions of this seal were, he said, preserved at +Canterbury and in the British Museum, but here the actual seal itself +had come to light. + +With all the enthusiasm of an expert he lingered over the matrice, +feeling it carefully with the tips of his fingers, and tracing the +device with the nail of his forefinger. "Splendid!" he declared. "The +lettering is a most excellent specimen of early Lombardic." And then he +gave the girl the titles of several works, which she got down from the +shelves, and from which she read extracts after some careful search. + +The sulphur-casts sent with the matrices she placed carefully with her +father's collection, and during the remainder of the evening they were +occupied in replying to several letters regarding estate matters. + +At eleven o'clock she kissed her father good-night and passed out to the +hall, where the pianola was still going, and where the merriment was +still in full swing. For a quarter of an hour she was compelled to +remain with the insipid young ass Bertie Girdlestone, a man who +patronised musical comedy nightly, and afterwards supped regularly at +the "Savoy"; then she escaped at last to her room. + +Exchanging her pretty gown of turquoise chiffon for an easy wrap, she +took up a novel, and, switching on her green-shaded reading-lamp, sat +down to enjoy a quiet hour before retiring. Quickly she became engrossed +in the story, and though the stable-chimes sounded each half-hour she +remained undisturbed by them. + +It was half-past two before she had reached the happy _dénouement_ of +the book, and, closing it, she rose to take off her trinkets. Having +divested herself of bracelets, rings, and necklet, she placed her hands +to her ears. There was only one ear-ring; the other was missing! They +were sapphires, a present from Walter on her last birthday. He had sent +them to her from Yokohama, and she greatly prized them. Therefore, at +risk of being seen in her dressing-gown by any of the male guests who +might still be astir--for she knew they always played billiards until +very late--she took off her little blue satin slippers and stole out +along the corridor and down the broad staircase. + +The place was in darkness; but she turned on the light, and again when +she reached the hall. + +She must have dropped her ear-ring in the library; of that she felt +sure. Servants were so careless that, if she left it, it might easily be +swept up in the morning and lost for ever. That thought had caused her +to search for it at once. + +As she approached the library door she thought she heard the sound as of +some one within. On her opening the door, however, all was in darkness. +She laughed at her apprehension. + +In an instant she touched the switch, and the place became flooded by a +soft, mellow light from lamps cunningly concealed behind the bookcases +against the wall. At the same moment, however, she detected a movement +behind one of the bookcases against which she stood. With sudden +resolution and fearlessness, she stepped forward to ascertain its cause. +Her eyes at that instant fell upon a sight which caused her to start and +stand dumb with amazement. Straight before her the door of her father's +safe stood open. Beside it, startled at the sudden interruption, stood a +man in evening-dress, with a small electric lamp in his clenched hand. A +pair of dark, evil eyes met hers in defiance--the eyes of James +Flockart. + +"You!" she gasped. + +"Yes," he laughed dryly. "Don't be afraid. It's only I. But, by Jove! +how very charming you look in that gown! I'd love to get a snapshot of +you just as you stand now." + +"What are you doing there, examining my father's papers?" she demanded +quickly, her small hands clenched. + +"My dear girl," he replied with affected unconcern, "that's my own +business. You really ought to have been in bed long ago. It isn't +discreet, you know, to be down here with me at this hour!" + +"I demand to know what you are doing here!" she cried firmly. + +"And, my dear little girl, I refuse to tell you," was his decisive +answer. + +"Very well, then I shall alarm the house and explain to my father what I +have discovered." + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +SHOWS GABRIELLE DEFIANT + +Gabrielle crossed quickly to one of the long windows, which she unbolted +and flung open, expecting to hear the shrill whir of the burglar-alarm, +which, every night, Hill switched on before retiring. + +"My dear little girl!" exclaimed the man, smiling as he strolled +leisurely across to her with a cool, perfect unconcern which showed how +completely he was master, "why create such a beastly draught? Nothing +will happen, for I've already seen to those wires." + +"You're a thief!" she cried, drawing herself up angrily. "I shall go +straight to my father and tell him at once." + +"You are at perfect liberty to act exactly as you choose," was +Flockart's answer, as he bowed before her with irritating mock +politeness. "But before you go, pray allow me to finish these most +interesting documents, some of which, I believe, are in your very neat +handwriting." + +"My father's business is his own alone, and you have no right whatever +to pry into it. I thought you were posing as his friend!" she cried in +bitter protest, as she stood with both her hands clenched. + +"I am his friend," he declared. "Some day, Gabrielle, you will know the +truth of how near he is to disaster, and how I am risking much in an +endeavour to save him." + +"I don't believe you!" she exclaimed in undisguised disgust. "In your +heart there is not one single spark of sympathy with him in his +affliction or with me in my ghastly position!" + +"Your position is only your own seeking, my dear child," was his cold +response. "I gave you full warning long ago. You can't deny that." + +"You conspired with Lady Heyburn against me!" she cried. "I have +discovered more about it than you think; and I now openly defy you, Mr. +Flockart. Please understand that." + +"Good!" he replied, still unruffled. "I quite understand. You will +pardon my resuming, won't you?" And walking back to the open safe, he +drew forth a small bundle of papers from a drawer. Then he threw himself +into a leather arm-chair, and proceeded to untie the tape and examine +the documents one by one, as though in eager search of something. + +"Though Lady Heyburn may be your friend, I am quite sure even she would +never for a moment countenance such a dastardly action as this!" cried +the girl, crimsoning in anger. "You come here, accept my father's +hospitality, and make pretence of being his friend and adviser; yet you +are conspiring against him, as you have done against myself!" + +"So far as you yourself are concerned, my dear Gabrielle," he laughed, +without deigning to look up from the papers he was scanning, "I offered +you my friendship, but you refused it." + +"Friendship!" she cried, in sarcasm. "Your friendship, Mr. Flockart! +What, pray, is it worth? You surely know what people are saying--the +construction they are placing upon your friendship for Lady Heyburn?" + +"The misconstruction, you mean," he exclaimed airily, correcting her. +"Well, to me it matters not a single jot. The world is always +ill-disposed and ill-natured. A woman can surely have a male friend +without being subject to hostile and venomous criticism?" + +"When the male friend is an honest man," said the girl meaningly. + +He shrugged his shoulders and continued reading, as though utterly +disregarding her presence. + +What should she do? How should she act? She knew quite well that from +those papers he could gather no knowledge of her father's affairs, +unless he held some secret knowledge of the true meaning of those +cryptic terms and allusions. To her they were all as Hebrew. + +Only that very day Monsieur Goslin had again made one of those +unexpected visits, remaining from eleven in the morning until three; +afterwards taking his leave, and driving back in the car to Auchterarder +Station. She had not seen him; but he had brought from Paris for her a +big box of chocolates tied with violet ribbons, as had been his habit +for quite a couple of years past. She was a particular favourite with +the polite, middle-aged Frenchman. + +Her father's demeanour was always more thoughtful and serious after the +stranger's visits. Business matters put before him by his visitor +always, it seemed, required much deep thought and ample consideration. + +Some papers brought to her father by Goslin she had placed in the safe +earlier that evening, and these, she recognised, were now in Flockart's +hands. She had not read them herself, and had no idea of their contents. +They were, to her, never interesting. + +"Mr. Flockart," she exclaimed very firmly at last, "I ask you to kindly +replace those papers in my father's safe, relock it, and hand me the +key." + +"That I certainly refuse to do," was the man's defiant reply, bowing as +he spoke. + +"You would prefer, then, that I should go up to my father and explain +all I have seen?" + +"I repeat what I have already said. You are perfectly at liberty to tell +whom you like. It makes no difference whatever to me. And, well, I don't +want to be disturbed just now." Rising, he walked across to the +writing-table, and taking a piece of note-paper bearing the Heyburn +crest, rapidly pencilled some memoranda upon it. He was, it seemed, +taking a copy of one of the documents. + +Suddenly she sprang towards him, crying, "Give me that paper! Give it to +me at once, I say! It is my father's." + +He straightened himself from the table, pulled down his white dress-vest +with its amethyst buttons, and, looking straight into her face, ordered +her to leave the room. + +"I shall not go," she answered boldly. "I have discovered a thief in my +father's house; therefore my duty is to remain here." + +"No. Surely your duty is to go upstairs and tell him;" and he bent +again, resuming his rapid memoranda. "Well," he asked defiantly, a few +moments later, seeing that she had not moved, "aren't you going?" + +"I shall not leave you here alone." + +"Don't. I might run away with some of the ornaments." + +"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the girl bitterly, "you taunt me because you are +well aware of my helplessness--of what occurred on that +never-to-be-forgotten afternoon--of how completely you have me in your +power! I see it all. You defy me, well knowing that you could, in a +moment, bring upon me a vengeance terrible and complete. It is all +horrible!" she cried, covering her face with her hands. "I know that I +am in your power. And you have no pity, no remorse." + +"I gave you full warning," he declared, placing the papers upon the +table and looking at her. "I gave you your choice. You cannot blame me. +You had ample time and opportunity." + +"But I still have one man who loves me--a man who will yet stand my +friend and defend me, even against you!" + +"Walter Murie!" he laughed, with a quick gesture of disregard. "You +believe him to be your friend? Recollect, my dear Gabrielle, that men +are deceivers ever." + +"So it seems in your case," she exclaimed with poignant bitterness. "You +have brought scandalous comment upon my father's name, and yet you are +utterly unconcerned." + +"Because, as I have already told you, your father is my friend." + +"And it is his money which you spend so freely," she said, in a low, +hard voice of reproach. "It comes from him." + +"His money!" he exclaimed quickly. "What do you mean? What do you +imply?" + +"Simply that among my father's accounts a short time back I found two +cheques drawn by Lady Heyburn in your favour." + +"And you told your father of them, of course!" he exclaimed with +sarcasm. "A remarkable discovery, eh?" + +"I told him nothing," was her bold reply. "Not because I wished to +shield you, but because I did not wish to pain him unduly. He has +worries sufficient, in all conscience." + +"Your devotion is really most charming," the man declared calmly, +leaning against the table and examining her critically from head to +foot. "Sir Henry believes in you. You are his dutiful daughter--pure, +good, and all that!" he sneered. "I wonder what he would say if +he--well, if he knew just a little of the truth, of what happened that +day at Chantilly?" + +"The truth! Ah, and you would tell him--you!" she gasped in a broken +voice, her sweet, innocent face blanched to the lips in an instant. "You +would drag my good name into the mire, and blast my life for ever with +just as little compunction as you would shoot a rabbit. I know--I know +you only too well, Mr. Flockart! I stand in your way; I am in your way +as well as in Lady Heyburn's. You are only awaiting an opportunity to +wreck my life and crush me! Once I am away from here, my poor father +will be helpless in your hands!" + +"Dear me," he sneered, "how very tragic you are becoming! That +dressing-gown really makes you appear quite like a heroine of provincial +melodrama. I ought now to have a revolver and threaten you, and then +this scene would be complete for the stage--wouldn't it? But for +goodness' sake don't remain here in the cold any longer, my dear little +girl. Run off to bed, and forget that to-night you've been walking in +your sleep." + +"Not until I see that safe relocked and you give me the false key of +yours. If you will not, then you shall this very night have an +opportunity of telling the truth to my father. I am prepared to bear my +shame and all its consequences----" + +The words froze upon her pale lips. On the lawn outside the half-open +glass door there was at that moment a light movement--the tapping of a +walking-stick! + +"Hush!" cried Flockart. "Remember what I can tell him--if I choose!" + +In an instant she saw the fragile figure of her father, in soft felt-hat +and black coat, creeping almost noiselessly past the window. He had been +out for one of his nocturnal walks, for he sometimes went out alone when +suffering from insomnia. He had just returned. + +The blind man went forward only a few paces farther; but, finding that +he had proceeded too far, he returned and discovered the open door. Near +it stood the pair, not daring now to move lest the blind man's quick +ears should detect their footsteps. + +"Gabrielle! Gabrielle, my dear!" exclaimed the Baronet. + +But though her heart beat quickly, the girl did not reply. She knew, +however, that the old man could almost read her innermost thoughts. The +ominous words of Flockart rang in her ears. Yes, he could tell a +terrible and awful truth which must be concealed at all hazards. + +"I felt sure I heard Gabrielle's voice. How curious!" murmured the old +man, as his feet fell noiselessly upon the thick Turkey carpet. +"Gabrielle, dear!" he called. But his daughter stood there breathless +and silent, not daring to move a muscle. Plain it was that while passing +across the lawn outside he heard her voice. He had overheard her +declaration that she was prepared to bear the consequences of her +disgrace. + +Across the room the blind man groped, his hand held before him, as was +his habit. "Strange! Remarkably strange!" he remarked to himself quite +aloud. "I'm never mistaken in Gabrielle's voice. Gabrielle, dear, where +are you? Why don't you speak? It's too late to-night to play practical +jokes." + +Flockart knew that he had left the safe-door open, yet he dared not move +across the room to close it. The sightless man would detect the +slightest movement in that dead silence of the night. With great care he +left the girl's side, and a single stride brought him to the large +writing-table, where he secured the document, together with the +pencilled memoranda of its purport, both of which he slipped into his +pocket unobserved. + +Gabrielle dared not breathe. Her discovery there meant her ruin. + +The man who held her in his toils cast her an evil, threatening glance, +raising his clenched fist in menace, as though daring her to make the +slightest movement. In his dark eyes showed a sinister expression, and +his nether lip was hard. She was, alas! utterly and completely in his +power. + +The safe was some distance away, and in order to reach and close it he +would be compelled to pass the man in blue spectacles now standing, +puzzled and surprised, in the centre of the great book-lined apartment. +Both of them could escape by the open window, but to do so would be to +court discovery should the Baronet find his safe standing open. In that +case the alarm would be raised, and they would both be found outside the +house, instead of within. + +Slowly the old man drew his thin hand across his furrowed brow, and +then, as a sudden recollection dawned upon him, he cried, "Ah, the +window! Why, that's strange! When I went out I closed it! But it was +open--open--as I came in! Some one--some one has entered here in my +absence!" + +With both his thin, wasted hands outstretched, he walked quickly to his +safe, cleverly avoiding the furniture in his course, and next second +discovered that the iron door stood wide open. + +"Thieves!" he gasped aloud hoarsely as the truth dawned upon him. "My +papers! Gabrielle's voice! What can all this mean?" And next moment he +opened the door, crying, "Help!" and endeavouring to alarm the +household. + +In an instant Flockart dashed forward towards the safe, and, without +being observed by Gabrielle, had slipped the key into his own pocket. + +"Gabrielle," cried the blind man, "you are here in the room. I know you +are. You cannot deceive me. I smell that new scent, which your aunt +Annie sent you, upon your handkerchief. Why don't you speak to me?" + +"Yes, dad," she answered at last, in a low, strained voice, "I--I am +here." + +"Then what is meant by my safe being open?" he asked sternly, as all +that Goslin had told him a little while before flashed across his +memory. "Why have you obtained a key to it?" + +"I have no key," was her quick answer. + +"Come here," he said. "Let me take your hand." + +With great reluctance, her eyes fixed upon Flockart's face, she did as +she was bid, and as her father took her soft hand in his, he said in a +stern, harsh tone, full of suspicion and quite unusual to him, "You are +trembling, Gabrielle--trembling, because--because of my unexpected +appearance, eh?" + +The fair girl with the sweet face and dainty figure was silent. What +could she reply? + + + +CHAPTER XX + +TELLS OF FLOCKART'S TRIUMPH + +"What are you doing here at this hour?" Gabrielle's father demanded +slowly, releasing her hand. "Why are you prying into my affairs?" He had +not detected Flockart's presence, and believed himself alone with his +daughter. + +The man's glance again met Gabrielle's, and she saw in his eyes a +desperate look. To tell the truth would, she knew, alas! cause the +exposure of her secret and her disgrace. On both sides had she suddenly +become hemmed in by a deadly peril. + +"Dad," she cried suddenly, "do I not know all about your affairs +already? Do I not act as your secretary? With what motive should I open +your safe?" + +Without response, the blind man moved back to the open door, and, +placing his hand within, fingered one of the long iron drawers. It was +unlocked, and he drew it forth. Some papers were within--blue, +legal-looking papers which his daughter had never seen. "Yes," he +exclaimed aloud, "just as I thought. This drawer has been opened, and my +private affairs pried into. Tell me, Gabrielle, where is young Murie +just at present?" + +"In Paris, I believe. He left London unexpectedly three days ago." + +"Paris!" echoed the old man. "Ah," he added, "Goslin was right--quite +right. And so you, my daughter, in whom I placed all my trust--my--my +only friend--have betrayed me!" he added brokenly. + +"I have not betrayed you, dear father," was her quick protest. "To whom +do you allege I have exposed your affairs?" + +"To your lover, Walter." + +To Flockart, whose wits were already at work upon some scheme to +extricate himself, there came at that instant a sudden suggestion. He +spoke, causing the old man to start suddenly and turn in the direction +of the speaker. + +As the words left his lips he raised a threatening finger towards +Gabrielle, a sign of silence to her of which the old man was +unfortunately in ignorance. + +"I think, Sir Henry, that I ought to speak--to tell you the truth, +painful though it may be. Five minutes ago I came down here in order to +get a telegraph-form, as I wanted to send a wire at the earliest +possible moment to-morrow, when, to my surprise, I saw a light beneath +the door. I----" + +"Oh, no, no!" gasped the girl, in horrified protest. "It's a lie!" + +"I crept in quietly, and was very surprised to find Gabrielle with the +safe open, and alone. I had expected that she was sitting up late, +working with you. But she seemed to be examining and reading some papers +she took from a drawer. Forgive me for telling you this, but the truth +must now be made plain. I startled her by my sudden presence; and, +pointing out the dishonour of copying her father's papers, no matter for +what purpose, I compelled her to return the documents to their place. I +fold her frankly that it was my duty, as your friend, to inform you of +the incident; but she implored me, for the sake of her lover, to remain +silent." + +"Mr. Flockart!" cried the girl, "how dare you say such a thing when you +know it to be an untruth; when----" + +"Enough!" exclaimed her father bitterly. "I'm ashamed of you, Gabrielle. +I----" + +"I would beg of you, Sir Henry, not further to distress yourself," +Flockart interrupted. "Love, as you know, often prompts both men and +women to commit acts of supreme folly." + +"Folly!" echoed the blind man. "This is more than folly! Gabrielle and +her lover have conspired to bring about my ruin. I have had suspicions +for several weeks; now, alas! they are confirmed. Walter Murie is in +Paris at this moment in order to make money out of the secret knowledge +which Gabrielle obtains for him. My own daughter is responsible for my +betrayal!" he added, in a voice broken by emotion. + +"No, no, Sir Henry!" urged Flockart. "Surely the outlook is not so black +as you foresee. Gabrielle has acted injudiciously; but surely she is +still devoted to you and your interests." + +"Yes," cried the girl in desperation, "you know I am, dad. You know that +I----" + +"It is useless, Flockart, for you to endeavour to seek forgiveness for +Gabrielle," declared her father in a firm, harsh voice, "Quite useless. +She has even endeavoured to deny the statement you have made--tried to +deny it when I actually heard with my own ears her defiant declaration +that she was prepared to bear her shame and all its consequences! Let +her do so, I say. She shall leave Glencardine to-morrow, and have no +further opportunity to conspire against me." + +"Oh, father, what are you saying?" she cried in despair, bursting into +tears. "I have not conspired." + +"I am saying the truth," went on the blind man. "You and your lover have +formed another clever plot, eh? Because I have not sight to watch you, +you will copy my business reports and send them to Walter Murie, who +hopes to place them in a certain channel where he can receive payment. +This is not the first time my business has leaked out from this room. +Only a short time ago certain confidential documents were offered to the +Greek Government, but fortunately they were false ones prepared on +purpose to trick any one who had designs upon my business secrets." + +"I swear I am in ignorance of it all." + +"Well, I have now told you plainly," the old man said. "I loved you, +Gabrielle, and until this moment foolishly believed that you were +devoted to me and to my interests. I trusted you implicitly, but you +have betrayed me into the hands of my enemies--betrayed me," he wailed, +"in such a manner that only ruin may face me. I tell you the hard and +bitter truth. I am blind, and ever since your return from school you +have acted as my secretary, and I have looked at the world only through +your eyes. Ah," he sighed, "but I ought to have known! I should never +have trusted a woman, even though she be my own daughter." + +The girl stood with her blanched face covered by her hands. To protest, +to declare that Flockart's story was a lie, was, she saw, all to no +purpose. Her father had overheard her bold defiance and had, alas! most +unfortunately taken it as an admission of her guilt. + +Flockart stood motionless but watchful; yet by the few words he uttered +he succeeded in impressing the blind man with the genuineness of his +friendship both for father and for daughter. He urged forgiveness, but +Sir Henry disregarded all his appeals. + +"No," he declared. "It is fortunate indeed, Flockart, that you made this +discovery, and thus placed me upon my guard." The poor deluded man +little dreamt that on the occasion when Flockart had taken him down the +drive to announce his departure from Glencardine on account of the +gossip, and had drawn Sir Henry's attention to his hanging watch-chain, +he had succeeded in cleverly obtaining two impressions of the safe-key +attached. In his excitement, it had never occurred to him to ask his +daughter by what means she had been able to open that steel door. + +"Dad," she faltered, advancing towards him and placing her soft, tender +hand upon his shoulder, "won't you listen to reason? I assure you I am +quite innocent of any attempt or intention to betray you. I know you +have many enemies;" and she glanced quickly in Flockart's direction. +"Have we not often discussed them? Have I not kept eyes and ears open, +and told you of all I have seen and learnt? Have----" + +"You have seen and learnt what is to my detriment," he answered. "All +argument is useless. A fortnight or so ago, by your aid, my enemies +secured a copy of a certain document which has never left yonder safe. +To-night Mr. Flockart has discovered you again tampering with my safe, +and with my own ears I heard you utter defiance. You are more devoted to +your lover than to me, and you are supplying him with copies of my +papers." + +"That is untrue, dad," protested the girl reproachfully. + +But her father shook her hand roughly from his shoulder, saying, "I have +already told you my decision, which is irrevocable. To-morrow you shall +leave Glencardine and go to your aunt Emily at Woodnewton. You won't +have much opportunity for mischief in that dull little Northampton +village. I won't allow you to remain under my roof any longer; you are +too ungrateful and deceitful, knowing as you do the misery of my +affliction." + +"But, father----" + +"Go to your room," he ordered sternly. "Tomorrow I will speak with your +mother, and we shall then decide what shall be done. Only, understand +one thing: in the future you are not my dear daughter that you have been +in the past. I--I have no daughter," he added in a voice harsh yet +broken by emotion, "for you have now proved yourself an enemy worse even +than those who for so many years have taken advantage of my +helplessness." + +"Ah, dad, dad, you are cruel!" she cried, bursting again into a torrent +of tears. "You are too cruel! I have done nothing!" + +"Do you call placing me in peril nothing?" he retorted bitterly. "Go to +your room at once. Remain with me, Flockart. I want to speak to you." + +The girl saw herself convicted by those unfortunate words she had +used--words meant in defiance of her arch-enemy Flockart, but which had +placed her in ignominy and disgrace. Ah, if she could only stand firm +and speak the ghastly truth! But, alas! she dared not. Flockart, the man +who held her in his power, the man whom she knew to be her father's +bitterest opponent, a cheat and a fraud, stood there triumphant, with a +smile upon his lips; while she, pure, honest, and devoted to that +afflicted man, was denounced and outcast. She raised her voice in one +last word of faint protest. + +But her father, angered and grieved, turned fiercely upon her and +ordered her from his presence. "Go," he said, "and do not come near me +again until your boxes are packed and you are ready to leave +Glencardine." + +"You speak as though I were a servant whom you've discharged," she said +bitterly. + +"I am speaking to my enemy, not to my daughter," was his hard response. + +She raised her eyes to Flockart, and saw upon his dark face a hard, +sphinx-like look. What hope of salvation could she ever expect from that +man--the man who long ago had sought to estrange her from her father so +that he might work his own ends? It was upon her tongue to turn upon him +and relate the whole infamous truth. Yet so friendly had the two men +become of late that she feared, even if she did so, that her father +would only see in the revelation an attempt at reprisal. Besides, what +if Flockart spoke? What if he told the awful truth? Her own dear father, +whom she loved so well, even though he had misjudged her, would be +dragged into the mire. No, she was the victim of that man, who was a +past-master of the art of subterfuge; the man who, for years, had lived +by his wits and preyed upon society. + +"Leave us, and go to your room," again commanded her father. + +She looked sadly at the white, bespectacled countenance which she loved +so well. Her soft hand once more sought his; but he cast it from him, +saying, "Enough of your caresses! You are no longer my daughter! Leave +us!" And then, seeing all protest in vain, she sighed, turned very +slowly, and with a last, lingering look upon the helpless man to whom +she had been so devoted, and who now so grossly misjudged her, she +tottered out, closing the door behind her. + +"Has she gone?" asked Sir Henry a moment later. + +Flockart responded in the affirmative, laying his hand upon the shoulder +of his agitated host, and urging him to remain calm. + +"That's all very well, my dear Flockart," he cried; "but you don't know +what she has done. She exposed a week or so ago a most confidential +arrangement with the Greek Government, a revelation which might have +involved me in the loss of over a hundred thousand." + +"Then it's fortunate, perhaps, that I discovered her to-night," replied +his guest. "All this must be very painful to you, Sir Henry." + +"Very. I shall not give her another opportunity to betray me, Flockart, +depend upon that," the elder man said. "My wife warned me against +Gabrielle long ago. I now see that I was a fool for not taking her +advice." + +"Certainly it's a curious fact that Walter Murie is in Paris," remarked +the other. "Was the revelation of your financial dealings made in Paris, +do you know?" + +"Yes, it was," snapped the blind man. "I believed Walter to be quite a +good young fellow." + +"Ah, I knew different, Sir Henry. His life up in London was not--well, +not exactly all that it should be. He's in with a rather shady crowd." + +"You never told me so." + +"Because you did not believe me to be your friend until quite recently. +I hope I have now proved what I have asserted. If I can do anything to +assist you I am only too ready. I assure you that you have only to +command me." + +Sir Henry reflected deeply for a few moments. The discovery that his +daughter was playing him false caused within him a sudden revulsion of +feeling. Unfortunately, he could not see the expression upon the +countenance of his false friend. He was wondering at that moment whether +he might entrust to him a somewhat delicate mission. + +"Gabrielle shall not return here," her father said, as though speaking +to himself. + +"That is a course which I would most strongly advise. Send the girl +away," urged the other. "Evidently she has grossly betrayed you." + +"That I certainly intend doing," was the answer. "But I wonder, +Flockart, if I might take you at your word, and ask you to do me a +favour? I am so helpless, or I would not think of troubling you." + +"Only tell me what you wish, and I will do it with pleasure." + +"Very well, then," replied the blind man. "Perhaps I shall want you to +go to Paris at once, watch the actions of young Murie, and report to me +from time to time. Would you?" + +A look of bright intelligence overspread the man's features as a new +vista opened before him. Sir Henry was about to take him into his +confidence! "Why, with pleasure," he said cheerily. "I'll start +to-morrow, and rest assured that I'll keep a very good eye upon the +young gentleman. You now know the painful truth concerning your +daughter--the truth which Lady Heyburn has told you so often, and which +you have never yet heeded." + +"Yes, Flockart," answered the afflicted man, taking his guest's hand in +warm friendship. "I once disliked you--that I admit; but you were quite +frank the other day, and now to-night you have succeeded in making a +discovery that, though it has upset me terribly, may mean my salvation." + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THROUGH THE MISTS + +Sir Henry refused to speak with his daughter when, on the following +morning, she stole in and laid her hand softly upon his arm. He ordered +her, in a tone quite unusual, to leave the library. Through the morning +hours she had lain awake trying to make a resolve. But, alas! she dared +not tell the truth; she was in deadly fear of Flockart's reprisals. + +That morning, at nine o'clock, Lady Heyburn and Flockart had held +hurried consultation in secret, at which he had explained to her what +had occurred. + +"Excellent!" she had remarked briefly. "But we must now have a care, my +dear friend. Mind the girl does not throw all prudence to the winds and +turn upon us." + +"Bah!" he laughed, "I don't fear that for a single second." And he left +the room again, to salute her in the breakfast-room a quarter of an hour +later as though they had not met before that day. + +Gabrielle, on leaving her father, went out for a long walk alone, away +over the heather-clad hills. For hours she went on--Jock, her Aberdeen +terrier, toddling at her side, in her hand a stout ash-stick--regardless +of the muddy roads or the wet weather. It was grey, damp, and dismal, +one of those days which in the Highlands are often so very cheerless and +dispiriting. Yet on, and still on, she went, her mind full of the events +of the previous night; full, also, of the dread secret which prevented +her from exposing her father's false friend. In order to save her +father, should she sacrifice herself--sacrifice her own life? That was +the one problem before her. + +She saw nothing; she heeded nothing. Hunger or fatigue troubled her not. +Indeed, she took no notice of where her footsteps led her. Beyond Crieff +she wandered, along the river-bank a short distance, ascending a hill, +where a wild and wonderful view spread before her. There she sat down +upon a big boulder to rest. + +Her hair blown by the chill wind, she sat staring straight before her, +thinking--ever thinking. She had not seen Lady Heyburn that day. She had +seen no one. + +At six o'clock that morning she had written a long letter to Walter +Murie. She had not mentioned the midnight incident, but she had, with +many expressions of regret, pointed out the futility of any further +affection between them. She had not attempted to excuse herself. She +merely told him that she considered herself unworthy of his love, and +because of that, and that alone, she had decided to break off their +engagement. + +A dozen times she had reread the letter after she had completed it. +Surely it was the letter of a heart-broken and desperate woman. Would he +take it in the spirit in which it was meant, she wondered. She loved +him--ah, loved him better than any one else in all the world! But she +now saw that it was useless to masquerade any longer. The blow had +fallen, and it had crushed her. She was powerless to resist, powerless +to deny the false charge against her, powerless to tell the truth. + +That letter, which she knew must come as a cruel blow to Walter, she had +given to the postman with her own hands, and it was now on its way +south. As she sat on the summit of that heather-clad hill she was +wondering what effect her written words would have upon him. He had +loved her so devotedly ever since they had been children together! Well +she knew how strong was his passion for her, how his life was at her +disposal. She knew that on reading those despairing lines of hers he +would be staggered. She recalled the dear face of her soul-mate, his hot +kisses, his soft terms of endearment, and alone there, with none to +witness her bitter grief, she burst into a flood of tears. + +The sad greyness of the landscape was in keeping with her own great +sorrow. She had lost all that was dear to her; and, young as she was, +with hardly any experience of the world and its ways, she was already +the victim of grim circumstance, broken by the grief of a self-renounced +love gnawing at her true heart. + +The knowledge that Lady Heyburn and Flockart would exult over her +downfall and exile to that tiny house in a sleepy little +Northamptonshire village did not trouble her. Her enemies had triumphed. +She had played the game and lost, just as she might have lost at +billiards or at bridge, for she was a thorough sportswoman. She only +grieved because she saw the grave peril of her dear father, and because +she now foresaw the utter hopelessness of her own happiness. + +It was better, she reflected, far better, that she should go into the +dull and dreary exile of an English village, with the unexciting +companionship of Aunt Emily, an ascetic spinster of the mid-Victorian +era, and make pretence of pique with Walter, than to reveal to him the +shameful truth. He would at least in those circumstances retain of her a +recollection fond and tender. He would not despise nor hate her, as he +most certainly would do if he knew the real astounding facts. + +How long she remained there, high up, with the chill winds of autumn +tossing her silky, light-brown hair, she knew not. Rainclouds were +gathering, and the rugged hill before her was now hidden behind a bank +of mist. Time had crept on without her heeding it, for what did time now +matter to her? What, indeed, did anything matter? Her young life, though +she was still in her teens, had ended; or, at least, as far as she was +concerned it had. Was she not calmly and coolly contemplating telling +the truth and putting an end to her existence after saving her father's +honour? + +Her sad, tearful eyes gazed slowly about her as she suddenly awakened to +the fact that she was far--very far--from home. She had been dazed, +unconscious of everything, because of the heavy burden of grief within +her heart. But now she looked forth upon the small, grey loch, with its +dark fringe of trees, the grey and purple hills beyond, the grey sky, +and the grey, filmy mists that hung everywhere. The world was, indeed, +sad and gloomy, and even Jock sat looking up at his young mistress as +though regarding her grief in wonder. + +Now and then distant shots came from across the hills. They were +shooting over the Drummond estate, she knew, for she had had an +invitation to join their luncheon-party that day. Lady Heyburn and +Flockart had no doubt gone. + +That, she told herself, was her last day in the Highlands, that +picturesque, breezy country she loved so well. It was her last day amid +those familiar places where she and Walter had so often wandered +together, and where he had told her of his passionate devotion. Well, +perhaps it was best, after all. Down south she would not be reminded of +him every moment and at every turn. No, she sighed within herself as she +rose to descend the hill, she must steel herself against her own sad +reflections. She must learn how to forget. + +"What will he say?" she murmured aloud as she went down, with Jock +frisking and barking before her. "What will he think of me when he gets +my letter? He will believe me fickle; he will believe that I have +another lover. That is certain. Well, I must allow him to believe it. We +have parted, and we must now, alas! remain apart for ever. Probably he +will seek from my father the truth concerning my disappearance from +Glencardine. Dad will tell him, no doubt. And then--then, what will he +believe? He--he will know that I am unworthy to be his wife. Yet--yet is +it not cruel that I dare not speak the truth and clear myself of this +foul charge of betraying my own dear father? Was ever a girl placed in +such a position as myself, I wonder. Has any girl ever loved a man +better than I love Walter?" Her white lips were set hard, and her fine +eyes became again bedimmed by tears. + +It commenced to rain, that fine drizzle so often experienced north of +the Tweed. But she heeded not. She was used to it. To get wet through +was, to her, quite a frequent occurrence when out fishing. Though there +was no path, she knew her way; and, walking through the wet heather, she +came after half-an-hour out upon a muddy byroad which led her into the +town of Crieff, whence her return was easy; though it was already dusk, +and the dressing-bell had gone, before she re-entered the house by the +servants' door and slipped unobserved up to her own room. + +Elise found her seated in her blue gown before the welcome fire-log, her +chin upon her breast. Her excuse was that she felt unwell; therefore one +of the maids brought her some dinner on a tray. + +Upon the mantelshelf were many photographs, some of them snap-shots of +her schoolfellows and souvenirs of holidays, the odds and ends of +portraits and scenes which every girl unconsciously collects. + +Among them, in a plain silver frame, was the picture of Walter Murie +taken in New York only a few weeks before. Upon the frame was engraved, +"Gabrielle, from Walter." She took it in her hand, and stood for a long +time motionless. Never again, alas! would she look upon that face so +dear to her. Her young heart was already broken, because she was held +fettered and powerless. + +At last she put down the portrait, and, sinking into her chair, sat +crying bitterly. Now that she was outcast by her father, to whom she had +been always such a close, devoted friend, her life was an absolute +blank. At one blow she had lost both lover and father. Already Elise had +told her that she had received instructions to pack her trunks. The +thin-nosed Frenchwoman was apparently much puzzled at the order which +Lady Heyburn had given her, and had asked the girl whom she intended to +visit. The maid had asked what dresses she would require; but Gabrielle +replied that she might pack what she liked for a long visit. The girl +could hear Elise moving about, shaking out skirts, in the adjoining +room, and making preparations for her departure on the morrow. + +Despondent, hopeless, grief-stricken, she sat before the fire for a long +time. She had locked the door and switched off the light, for it +irritated her. She loved the uncertain light of dancing flames, and sat +huddled there in her big chair for the last time. + +She was reflecting upon her own brief life. Scarcely out of the +schoolroom, she had lived most of her days up in that dear old place +where every inch of the big estate was so familiar to her. She +remembered all those happy days at school, first in England, and then in +France, with the kind-faced Sisters in their spotless head-dresses, and +the quiet, happy life of the convent. The calm, grave face of Sister +Marguerite looked down upon her from the mantelshelf as if sympathising +with her pretty pupil in those troubles that had so early come to her. +She raised her eyes, and saw the portrait. Its sight aroused within her +a new thought and fresh recollection. Had not Sister Marguerite always +taught her to beseech the Almighty's aid when in doubt or when in +trouble? Those grave, solemn words of the Mother Superior rang in her +ears, and she fell upon her knees beside her narrow bed in the alcove, +and with murmuring lips prayed for divine support and assistance. She +raised her sweet, troubled face to heaven and made confession to her +Maker. + +Then, after a long silence, she struggled again to her feet, more cool +and more collected. She took up Walter's portrait, and, kissing it, put +it away carefully in a drawer. Some of her little treasures she gathered +together and placed with it, preparatory to departure, for she would on +the morrow leave Glencardine perhaps for ever. + +The stable-clock had struck ten. To where she stood came the strident +sounds of the mechanical piano-player, for some of the gay party were +waltzing in the hall. Their merry shouts and laughter were discordant to +her ears. What cared any of those friends of her step-mother if she were +in disgrace and an outcast? + +Drawing aside the curtain, she saw that the night was bright and +starlit. She preferred the air out in the park to the sounds of gaiety +within that house which was no longer to be her home. Therefore she +slipped on a skirt and blouse, and, throwing her golf-cape across her +shoulders and a shawl over her head, she crept past the room wherein +Elise was packing her belongings, and down the back-stairs to the lawn. + +The sound of the laughter of the men and women of the shooting-party +aroused a poignant bitterness within her. As she passed across the drive +she saw a light in the library, where, no doubt, her father was sitting +in his loneliness, feeling and examining his collection of +seal-impressions. + +She turned, and, walking straight on, struck the gravelled path which +took her to the castle ruins. + +Not until the black, ponderous walls rose before her did she awaken to a +consciousness of her whereabouts. Then, entering the ruined courtyard, +she halted and listened. All was dark. Above, the stars twinkled +brightly, and in the ivy the night-birds stirred the leaves. Holding her +breath, she strained her ears. Yes, she was not deceived! There were +sounds distinct and undeniable. She was fascinated, listening again to +those shadow-voices that were always precursory of death--the fatal +Whispers. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +BY THE MEDITERRANEAN + +It was February--not the foggy, muddy February of dear, damp Old +England, but winter beside the bright blue Mediterranean, the winter of +the Côte d'Azur. + +At the Villa Heyburn--that big, square, white house with the green +sun-shutters, surrounded by its great garden full of spreading palms, +sweet-smelling mimosa, orange-trees laden with golden fruit, and bright +geraniums, up on the Berigo at San Remo--Lady Heyburn had that afternoon +given a big luncheon-party. The smartest people wintering in that most +sheltered nook of the Italian Riviera had eaten and gossiped and +flirted, and gone back to their villas and hotels. Dull persons found no +place in Lady Heyburn's circle. Most of the people were those she knew +in London or in Paris, including a sprinkling of cosmopolitans, a +Russian prince notorious for his losses over at the new _cercle_ at +Cannes, a divorced Austrian Archduchess, and two or three well-known +diplomats. + +"Dear old Henry" remained, of course, at Glencardine, as he always did. +Lady Heyburn looked upon her winter visit to that beautiful villa +overlooking the calm sapphire sea as her annual emancipation. Henry was +a dear old fellow, she openly confided to her friends, but his +affliction made him terribly trying. + +But Jimmy Flockart, the good-looking, amusing, well-dressed idler, was +living down at the "Savoy," and was daily in her company, driving, +motoring, picnicking, making excursions in the mountains, or taking +trips over to "Monte" by the _train-de-luxe_. He had left the villa +early in the afternoon, returned to his hotel, changed his smart +flannels for a tweed suit, and, taking a stout stick, had set off alone +for his daily constitutional along the sea-road in the direction of that +pretty but half-deserted little watering-place, Ospedaletti. + +Straight before him, into the unruffled, tideless sea, the sun was +sinking in all its blood-red glory as he went at swinging pace along the +white, dusty road, past the _octroi_ barrier, and out into the country +where, on the left, the waves lazily lapped the grey rocks, while upon +the right the fertile slopes were covered with carnations and violets +growing for the markets of Paris and London. In the air was a delightful +perfume, the freshness of the sea in combination with the sweetness of +the flowers. + +A big red motor-car dashed suddenly round a corner, raising a cloud of +dust. An American party were on their way from Genoa to the frontier +along the Corniche, one of the most picturesque routes in all the world. + +James Flockart had no eyes for beauty. He was too occupied by certain +grave apprehensions. That morning he had walked in the garden with Lady +Heyburn, and had a long chat with her. Her attitude had been peculiar. +He could not make her out. She had begged him to promise to leave San +Remo, and when asked to tell the reason of this sudden demand she had +firmly refused. + +"You must leave here, Jimmy," she had said quite calmly. "Go down to +Rome, to Palermo, to Ragusa, or somewhere where you can put in a month +or so in comfort. The Villa Igiea at Palermo would suit you quite +well--lots of smart people, and very decent cooking." + +"Well," he laughed, "as far as hotels go, nothing could be worse than +this place. I'd never put my nose into this hole if it were not for the +fact that you come here. There isn't a hotel worth the name. When one +goes to Monte, or Cannes, or even decaying Nice, one can get decent +cooking. But here--ugh!" and he shrugged his shoulders. "Price higher +than the 'Ritz' in Paris, food fourth-rate, rooms cheaply decorated, and +a dullness unequalled." + +"My dear Jimmy," laughed her ladyship, "you're such a cosmopolitan that +you're incorrigible. I know you don't like this place. You've been here +six weeks, so go." + +"You've had a letter from the old man, eh?" + +"Yes, I have," she replied, and he saw that her countenance changed; but +she would say nothing more. She had decided that he must leave San Remo, +and would hear no argument to the contrary. + +The southern sun sank slowly into the sea, now grey but waveless. On the +horizon lay the long smoke-trail of a passing steamer eastward bound. He +had rounded the steep, rocky headland, and in the hollow before him +nestled the little village of Ospedaletti, with its closed casino, its +rows of small villas, and its palm-lined _passeggiata_. + +A hundred yards farther on he saw the figure of a rather shabby, +middle-aged man, in a faded grey overcoat and grey soft felt-hat of the +mode usual on the Riviera, but discoloured by long wear, leaning upon +the low sea-wall and smoking a cigarette. No other person was in the +vicinity, and it was quickly evident from the manner in which the +wayfarer recognised him and came forward to meet him with outstretched +hand that they had met by appointment. Short of stature as he was, with +fair hair, colourless eyes, and a fair moustache, his slouching +appearance was that of one who had seen better days, even though there +still remained about him a vestige of dandyism. The close observer +would, however, detect that his clothes, shabby though they were, were +of foreign cut, and that his greeting was of that demonstrative +character that betrayed his foreign birth. + +"Well, my dear Krail," exclaimed Flockart, after they had shaken hands +and stood together leaning upon the sea-wall, "you got my wire in +Huntingdon? I was uncertain whether you were at the 'George' or at the +'Fountain,' so I sent a message to both." + +"I was at the 'George,' and left an hour after receipt of your wire." + +"Well, tell me what has happened. How are things up at Glencardine?" + +"Goslin is with the old fellow. He has taken the girl's place as his +confidential secretary," was the shabby man's reply, speaking with a +foreign accent. "Walter Murie was at home for Christmas, but went to +Cairo." + +"And how are matters in Paris?" + +"They are working hard, but it's an uphill pull. The old man is a crafty +old bird. Those papers you got from the safe had been cunningly prepared +for anybody who sought to obtain information. The consequence is that +we've shown our hand, and heavily handicapped ourselves thereby." + +"You told me all that when you were down here a month ago," Flockart +said impatiently. + +"You didn't believe me then. You do now, I suppose?" + +"I've never denied it," Flockart declared, offering the stranger a +Russian cigarette from his gold case. "I was completely misled, and by +the girl also." + +"The girl's influence with her father is happily quite at an end," +remarked the shabby man. "I saw her last week in Woodnewton. The change +from Glencardine to an eight-roomed cottage in a village street must be +rather severe." + +"Only what she deserves," snapped Flockart. "She defied us." + +"Granted. But I cannot help thinking that we haven't played a very fair +game," said the man. "Remember, she's only a girl." + +"But dangerous to us and to our plans, my dear Krail. She knows a lot." + +"Because--well, forgive me for saying so, my dear Flockart--because +you've been a fool, and have allowed her to know." + +"It wasn't I; it was the woman." + +"Lady Heyburn! Why, I always believed her to be the soul of discretion." + +"She's been too defiant of consequences. A dozen times I've warned her; +but she will not heed." + +"Then she'll land herself in a deep hole if she isn't careful," replied +the foreigner, speaking very fair English. "Does she know I'm here?" + +"Of course not. If we're to play the game she must know nothing. She's +already inclined to throw prudence to the winds, and to confess all to +her husband." + +"Confess!" gasped the stranger, paling beneath his rather sallow skin. +"_Per Bacco!_ she's not going to be such an idiot, surely?" + +"We were run so close, and so narrowly escaped discovery after I got at +those papers at Glencardine, that she seems to have lost heart," +Flockart remarked. + +"But if she acted the fool and told Sir Henry, it would mean ruin for +us, and that would also mean----" + +"It would mean exposure for Gabrielle," interrupted Flockart. "The old +man dare not lift his voice for his daughter's sake." + +"Ah," exclaimed Krail, "that's just where you've acted injudiciously! +You've set him against her; therefore he wouldn't spare her." + +"It was imperative. I couldn't afford to be found prying into the old +man's papers, could I? I got impressions of his key while walking in the +park one day. He's never suspected it." + +"Of course not. He believes in you," laughed his friend, "as one of the +few upright men who are his friends! But," he added, "you've done wrong, +my dear fellow, to trust a woman with a secret. Depend upon it, her +ladyship will let you down." + +"Well, if she does," remarked Flockart, with a shrug of the shoulders, +"she'll have to suffer with me. You know where we should all find +ourselves." + +The man pulled a wry face and puffed at his cigarette in silence. + +"What does the girl do?" asked Flockart a few moments later. + +"Well, she seems to have a pretty dull time with the old lady. I stayed +at the 'Cardigan Arms' at Woodnewton for two days--a miserable little +place--and watched her pretty closely. She's out a good deal, rambling +alone across the country with a collie belonging to a neighbouring +farmer. She's the very picture of sadness, poor little girl!" + +"You seem to sympathise with her, Krail. Why, does she not stand between +us and fortune?" + +"She'll stand between us and a court of assize if that woman acts the +fool!" declared the shabby stranger, who moved so rapidly and whose +vigilance seemed unequalled. + +"If we go, she shall go also," Flockart declared in a threatening voice. + +"But you must prevent such a _contretemps_," Krail urged. + +"Ah, it's all very well to talk like that! But you know enough of her +ladyship to be aware that she acts on her own initiative." + +"That shows that she's no fool," remarked the foreigner quickly. "You +who hold her in the hollow of your hand must prevent her from opening up +to her husband. The whole future lies with you." + +"And what is the future without money? We want a few thousands for +immediate necessities, both of us. The woman's allowance from her +husband is nowadays a mere bagatelle." + +"Because he probably knows that some of her money has gone into your +pockets, my dear boy." + +"No; he's completely in ignorance of that. How, indeed, could he know? +She takes very good care there's no possibility of his finding out." + +"Well," remarked the stranger, "that's what I fear has happened, or may +one day happen. The fact is, _caro mio_, we are in a quandary at the +present moment. You were a bit too confident in dealing with those +documents you found at Glencardine. You should have taken her ladyship +into your confidence and got her to pump her husband concerning them. If +you had, we shouldn't have made the mess of it that we have done." + +"I must admit, Krail, that what you say is true," declared the +well-dressed man. "You are such a philosopher always! I asked you to +come here in secret to explain the exact position." + +"It is one of peril. We are checkmated. Goslin holds the whole position +in his hands, and will keep it." + +"Very fortunately for you he doesn't, though we were very near exposure +when I went out to Athens and made a fool of myself upon the report +furnished by you." + +"I believed it to be a genuine one. I had no idea that the old man was +so crafty." + +"Exactly. And if he displayed such clever ingenuity and forethought in +laying a trap for the inquisitive, is it not more than likely that there +may be other traps baited with equal craft and cunning?" + +"Then how are we to make the _coup_?" Flockart asked, looking into the +colourless eyes of his friend. + +"We shall, I fear, never make it, unless----" + +"Unless what?" he asked. + +"Unless the old man meets with an accident," replied the other, in a +low, distinct voice. "_Blind men sometimes do, you know!_" + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +WHICH SHOWS A SHABBY FOREIGNER + +Felix Krail, his cigarette held half-way to his lips, stood watching the +effect of his insinuation. He saw a faint smile playing about Flockart's +lips, and knew that it appealed to him. Old Sir Henry Heyburn had laid a +clever trap for him, a trap into which he himself believed that his +daughter had fallen. Why should not Flockart retaliate? + +The shabby stranger, whose own ingenuity and double-dealing were little +short of marvellous, and under whose watchful vigilance the Heyburn +household had been ever since her ladyship and her friend Flockart had +gone south, stood silent, but in complete satisfaction. + +The well-dressed Riviera-lounger--the man so well known at all the +various gay resorts from Ventimiglia along to Cannes, and who was a +member of the Fêtes Committee at San Remo and at Nice--merely exchanged +glances with his friend and smiled. Quickly, however, he changed the +topic of conversation. "And what's occurring in Paris?" + +"Ah, there we have the puzzle!" replied the man Krail, his accent being +an unfamiliar one--so unfamiliar, indeed, that those unacquainted with +the truth were always placed in doubt regarding his true nationality. + +"But you've made inquiry?" asked his friend quickly. + +"Of course; but the business is kept far too close. Every precaution is +taken to prevent anything leaking out," Krail responded. + +"The clerks will speak, won't they?" the other said. + +"_Mon cher ami_, they know no more of the business of the mysterious +firm of which the blind Baronet is the head than we do ourselves," said +Krail. + +"They make enormous financial deals, that's very certain." + +"Not deals--but _coups_ for themselves," he laughed, correcting +Flockart. "Recollect what I discovered in Athens, and the extraordinary +connection you found in Brussels." + +"Ah, yes. You mean that clever crowd--four men and two women who were +working the gambling concession from the Dutch Government!" exclaimed +Flockart. "Yes, that was a complete mystery. They sent wires in cipher +to Sir Henry at Glencardine. I managed to get a glance at one of them, +and it was signed 'Metaforos.'" + +"That's their Paris cable address," said his companion. + +"Surely you, with your network of sources of information, and your own +genius for discovering secrets, ought to be able to reveal the true +nature of Sir Henry's business. Is it an honest one?" asked Flockart. + +"I think not." + +"Think! Why, my dear Felix, this isn't like you only to think; you +always _know_. You're so certain of your facts that I've always banked +upon them." + +The other gave his shoulders a shrug of indecision. "It was not a +judicious move on your part to get rid of the girl from Glencardine," he +said slowly. "While she was there we had a chance of getting at some +clue. But now old Goslin has taken her place we may just as well abandon +investigation at that end." + +"You've failed, Krail, and attribute your failure to me," protested his +companion. "How could I risk being ignominiously kicked out of +Glencardine as a spy?" + +"Whatever attitude you might have taken would have had the same result. +We used the information, and found ourselves fooled--tricked by a very +crafty old man, who actually prepared those documents in case he was +betrayed." + +"Admitted," said Flockart. "But even though we made fools of ourselves +in Athens, and caused the Greek Government to look upon us as rogues and +liars, the girl is suspected; and I for one don't mean to give in before +we've secured a nice, snug little sum." + +"How are we to do it?" + +"By obtaining knowledge of the game being played in Paris, and working +in an opposite direction," Flockart replied. "We are agreed upon one +point: that for the past few years, ever since Goslin came on the scene, +Sir Henry's business--a big one, there is no doubt--has been of a +mysterious and therefore shady character. By his confidence in +Gabrielle, his care that nobody ever got a chance inside that safe, his +regular consultations with Goslin (who travelled from Paris specially to +see him), his constant telegrams in cipher, and his refusal to allow +even his wife to obtain the slightest inkling into his private affairs, +it is shown that he fears exposure. Do you agree?" + +"Most certainly I do." + +"Well, any man who is in dread of the truth becoming known must be +carrying on some negotiations the reverse of creditable. He is the +moving spirit of that shady house, without a doubt," declared Flockart, +who had so often grasped the blind man's hand in friendship. "In such +fear that his transactions should become known, and that exposure might +result, he actually had prepared documents on purpose to mislead those +who pried into his affairs. Therefore, the instant we discover the +truth, fortune will be at our hand. We all want money, you, I, and Lady +Heyburn--and money we'll have." + +"With these sentiments, my dear friend, I entirely and absolutely +agree," remarked the shabby man, lighting a fresh cigarette. "But one +fact you seem to have entirely overlooked." + +"What?" + +"The girl. She stands between you, and she might come back into the old +man's favour, you know." + +"And even though she did, that makes no difference," Flockart answered +defiantly. + +"Why?" + +"Because she dare not say a single word against me." + +Krail looked him straight in the face with considerable surprise, but +made no comment. + +"She knows better," Flockart added. + +"Never believe too much in your own power with a woman, _mon cher ami_," +remarked the other dubiously. "She's young, therefore of a romantic turn +of mind. She's in love, remember, which makes matters much worse for +us." + +"Why?" + +"Because, being in love, she may become seized with a sentimental fit. +This ends generally in a determination of self-sacrifice; and in such +case she would tell the truth in defiance of you, and would be heedless +of her own danger." + +Flockart drew a long breath. What this man said was, he knew within his +own heart, only too true of the girl towards whom they had been so cruel +and so unscrupulous. His had been a lifelong scheme, and as part of his +scheme in conjunction with the woman who was Sir Henry's wife, it had +been unfortunately compulsory to sacrifice the girl who was the blind +man's right hand. + +Yes, Gabrielle was deeply in love with Walter Murie--the man upon whom +Sir Henry now looked as his enemy, and who would have exposed him to the +Greek Government if the blind man had not been too clever. The Baronet, +after his daughter's confession, naturally attributed her curiosity to +Walter's initiative, the more especially that Walter had been in Paris, +and, it was believed, in Athens also. + +The pair were, however, now separated. Krail, in pursuit of his diligent +inquiries, had actually been in Woodnewton, and seen the lonely little +figure, sad and dejected, taking long rambles accompanied only by a +farmer's sheep-dog. Young Murie had not been there; nor did the pair now +correspond. This much Krail had himself discovered. + +The problem placed before Flockart by his shabby friend was a somewhat +disconcerting one. On the one hand, Lady Heyburn had urged him to leave +the Riviera, without giving him any reason, and on the other, he had the +ever-present danger of Gabrielle, in a sudden fit of sentimental +self-sacrifice, "giving him away." If she did, what then? The mere +suggestion caused him to bite his nether lip. + +Krail knew a good deal, but he did not know all. Perhaps it was as well +that he did not. There is a code of honour among adventurers all the +world over; but few of them can resist the practice of blackmail when +they chance to fall upon evil days. + +"Yes," Flockart said reflectively, as at Krail's suggestion they turned +and began to descend the steep hill towards Ospedaletti, "perhaps it's a +pity, after all, that the girl left Glencardine. Yet surely she's safer +with her aunt?" + +"She was driven from Glencardine!" + +"By her father." + +"You sacrificed her in order to save yourself. That was but natural. +It's a pity, however, you didn't take my advice." + +"I suggested it to Lady Heyburn. But she would have nothing to do with +it. She declared that such a course was far too dangerous." + +"Dangerous!" echoed the shabby man. "Surely it could not have placed +either of you in any greater danger than you are in already?" + +"She didn't like it." + +"Few people do," laughed the other. "But, depend upon it, it's the only +way. She wouldn't, at any rate, have had an opportunity of telling the +truth." + +Flockart pulled a wry face, and after a silence of a few moments said, +"Don't let us discuss that. We fully considered all the pros and cons, +at the time." + +"Her ladyship is growing scrupulously honest of late," sneered his +companion. "She'll try to get rid of you very soon, I expect." + +The latter sentence was more full of meaning than the speaker dreamed. +The words, falling upon Flockart's ears, caused him to wince. Was her +ladyship really trying to rid herself of his influence? He laughed +within himself at the thought of her endeavouring to release herself +from the bond. For her he had never, at any moment, entertained either +admiration or affection. Their association had always been purely one of +business--business, be it said, in which he made the profits and she the +losses. + +"It would hardly be an easy matter for her," replied the easy-going, +audacious adventurer. + +"She seems to be very popular up at Glencardine," remarked the +foreigner, "because she's extravagant and spends money in the +neighbourhood, I suppose. But the people in Auchterarder village +criticise her treatment of Gabrielle. They hear gossip from the +servants, I expect." + +"They should know of the girl's treatment of her stepmother," exclaimed +Flockart. "But there, villagers are always prone to listen to and +embroider any stories concerning the private life of the gentry. It's +just the same in Scotland as in any other country in the world." + +"Ah!" continued Flockart, "in Scotland the old families are gradually +decaying, and their estates are falling into the hands of blatant +parvenus. Counter-jumpers stalk deer nowadays, and city clerks on their +holidays shoot over peers' preserves. The humble Scot sees it all with +regret, because he has no real liking for this latter-day invasion by +the newly-rich English. Cotton-spinners from Lancashire buy +deer-forests, and soap-boilers from Limehouse purchase castles with +family portraits and ghosts complete." + +"Ah! speaking of the supernatural," exclaimed Krail suddenly, "do you +know I had a most extraordinary and weird experience when at Glencardine +about three weeks ago. I actually heard the Whispers!" + +Flockart stared hard at the man at his side, and, laughing outright, +said, "Well, that's the best joke I've heard to-day. You, of all men, to +be taken in by a mere superstition." + +"But, my dear friend, I heard them," said Krail. "I swear I actually +heard them! And I--well, I admit to you, even though you may laugh at me +for being a superstitious fool--I somehow anticipate that something +uncanny is about to happen to me." + +"You're going to die, like all the rest of them, I suppose," laughed his +friend, as they descended the dusty, winding road that led to the +palm-lined promenade of the quiet little Mediterranean watering-place. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +"WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK" + +On their left were several white villas, before which pink and scarlet +geraniums ran riot, with spreading mimosas golden with their feathery +blossom, for Ospedaletti makes a frantic, if vain, bid for popularity as +a winter-resort. Its deadly dullness, however, is too well known to the +habitué of the Riviera; and its casino, which never obtained a licence, +imparts to it the air of painful effort at gaiety. + +"Well," remarked the shabby man as they passed along and out upon the +sea-road in the direction of Bordighera, "I always looked upon what the +people at Auchterarder said regarding the Whispers as a mere myth. But +now, having heard them with my own ears, how can I have further doubt?" + +"I've listened in the Castle ruins a good many times, my dear Krail," +replied the other, "but I've never heard anything more exciting than an +owl. Indeed, Lady Heyburn and I, when there was so much gossip about the +strange noises some two years ago, set to work to investigate. We went +there at least a dozen times, but without result; only both of us caught +bad colds." + +"Well," exclaimed Krail, "I used to ridicule the weird stories I heard +in the village about the Devil's Whisper, and all that. But by mere +chance I happened to be at the spot one bright night, and I heard +distinct whisperings, just as had been described to me. They gave me a +very creepy feeling, I can assure you." + +"Bosh! Now, do you believe in ghosts, you man-of-the-world that you are, +my dear Felix?" + +"No. Most decidedly I don't." + +"Then what you've heard is only in imagination, depend upon it. The +supernatural doesn't exist in Glencardine, that's quite certain," +declared Flockart. "The fact is that there's so much tradition and +legendary lore connected with the old place, and its early owners were +such a set of bold and defiant robbers, that for generations the +peasantry have held it in awe. Hence all sorts of weird and terrible +stories have been invented and handed down, until the present age +believes them to be based upon fact." + +"But, my dear friend, I actually heard the Whispers--heard them with my +own ears," Krail asserted. "I happened to be about the place that night, +trying to get a peep into the library, where Goslin and the old man +were, I believe, busy at work. But the blinds fitted too closely, so +that I couldn't see inside. The keeper and his men were, I knew, down in +the village; therefore I took a stroll towards the ruins, and, as it was +a beautiful night, I sat down in the courtyard to have a smoke. Then, of +a sudden, I heard low voices quite distinctly. They startled me, for not +until they fell upon my ears did I recall the stories told to me weeks +before." + +"If Stewart or any of the under-keepers had found you prowling about the +Castle grounds at that hour they might have asked you awkward +questions," remarked Flockart. + +"Oh," laughed the other, "they all know me as a visitor to the village +fond of walking exercise. I took very good care that they should all +know me, so that as few explanations as possible would be necessary. As +you well know, the secret of all my successes is that I never leave +anything to chance." + +"To go peeping about outside the house and trying to took in at lighted +windows sounds a rather injudicious proceeding," his companion declared. + +"Not if proper precautions are taken, as I took them. I was weeks in +that terribly dull Scotch village, but nobody suspected my real mission. +I made quite a large circle of friends at the 'Star,' who all believed +me to be a foreign ornithologist writing a book upon the birds of +Scotland. Trust me to tell people a good story." + +"Well," exclaimed Flockart, after a long silence, "those Whispers are +certainly a mystery, more especially if you've actually heard them. On +two or three occasions I've spoken to Sir Henry about them. He ridicules +the idea, yet he admitted to me one evening that the voices had really +been heard. I declared that the most remarkable fact was the sudden +death of each person who had listened and heard them. It is a curious +phenomenon, which certainly should be investigated." + +"The inference is that I, having listened to the ghostly voices, am +doomed to a sudden and violent end," remarked the shabby stranger quite +gloomily. + +Flockart laughed. "Really, Felix, this is too funny!" he said. "Fancy +your taking notice of such old wives' fables! Why, my dear fellow, +you've got many years of constant activity before you yet. You must +return to Paris in the morning, and watch in patience." + +"I have watched, but discovered nothing." + +"Perhaps I'll come and assist you; most probably I shall." + +"No, don't! As soon as you leave San Remo Sir Henry will know, and he +might suspect." + +"Suspect what?" + +"That you are in search of the truth, and of fortune in consequence." + +"He believes in me. Only the other day I had a letter from him written +in Goslin's hand, repeating the confidence he reposes in me." + +"Exactly. You must remain down here for the present." + +Flockart recollected the puzzling decision of Lady Heyburn, and remained +silent. + +"Our chief peril is still the one which has faced us all along," went on +the man in the grey hat--"the peril that the girl may tell about that +awkward affair at Chantilly." + +"She dare not," Flockart assured him quickly. + +Krail shook his head dubiously. "She's leading a lonely life. Her heart +is broken, and she believes herself, as every other young girl does, to +be without a future. Therefore, she's brooding over it. One never knows +in such cases when a girl may fling all prudence to the winds," he said. +"If she did, then nothing could save us." + +"That's just what her ladyship said the other day," answered Flockart, +tossing away his cigarette. "But you don't know that I hold her +irrevocably. She dare not say a single word. If she dare, why did she +not tell the truth about the safe?" + +"Probably because it was all too sudden. She now finds life in that +dismal little village intolerable. She's a girl of spirit, you know, and +has always been used to luxury and freedom. To live with an old woman in +a country cottage away from all her friends must be maddening. No, my +dear James, in this you've acted most injudiciously. You were devoid of +your usual foresight. Depend upon it, a very serious danger threatens. +She will speak." + +"I tell you she dare not. Rest your mind assured." + +"She will." + +"_She shall not!_" + +"How, pray, can you close her mouth?" asked the foreigner. + +Flockart's eyes met his. In them was a curious expression, almost a +glitter. + +Krail understood. He shrugged his shoulders, but uttered no word. His +gesture was, however, that of one unconvinced. Adventurer as he was, +ingenious and unscrupulous, he lived from hand to mouth. Sometimes he +made a big _coup_ and placed himself in funds. But following such an +event he was open-handed and generous to his friends, extravagant in his +expenditure; and very soon found himself under the necessity to exercise +his wits in order to obtain the next louis. He had known Flockart for +years as one of his own class. They had first met long ago on board a +Castle liner homeward bound from Capetown, where both found themselves +playing a crooked game. A friendship begotten of dishonesty had sprung +up between them, and in consequence they had thrown in their lot +together more than once with considerable financial advantage. + +The present affair was, however, not much to Krail's liking, and this he +had more than once told his friend. It was quite possible that if they +could discover the mysterious source of this blind man's wealth they +might, by judiciously levying blackmail through a third party, secure a +very handsome income which he was to share with Flockart and her +ladyship. + +The last-named Krail had always admitted to be one of the cleverest +women he had ever met. His only surprise had been that she, as Sir +Henry's wife, was unable to get at the facts which were so cleverly +withheld. It only showed, however, that the Baronet, though deprived of +eyesight, was even more clever than the unscrupulous woman he had so +foolishly married. + +Krail held Lady Heyburn in distinct distrust. He had once had dealings +with her which had turned out the reverse of satisfactory. Instinctively +he knew that, in order to save herself, if exposure ever came, she would +"give him away" without the least compunction. + +What had puzzled him for several years, and what, indeed, had puzzled +other people, was the reason of the close friendship between Flockart +and the Baronet's wife. It was certainly not affection. He knew Flockart +intimately, and had knowledge of his private affairs; therefore he was +well aware of the existence of an unknown and rather insignificant woman +to whom he was in secret devoted. + +No; the bond between the pair was an entirely mysterious one. He knew +that on more than one occasion, when Flockart's demands for money had +been a little too frequent, she had resisted and attempted to withdraw +from further association with him. Yet by a single word, or even a look, +he could compel her to disgorge the funds he needed, for she had even +handed him some of her trinkets to pawn until she could obtain further +funds from Sir Henry to redeem them. + +As they walked together along the white Corniche Road, their faces set +towards the gorgeous southern afterglow, while the waves lapped lazily +on the grey rocks, all these puzzling thoughts recurred to Krail. + +"Lady Heyburn seems still to remain your very devoted friend," he +remarked at last with a meaning smile. "I see from the _New York Herald_ +what pleasant parties she gives, and how she is the heart and soul of +social merriment in San Remo. By Jove, James! you're a lucky man to +possess such a popular hostess as friend." + +"Yes," laughed Flockart, "Winnie is a regular pal. Without her I should +have been broken long ago. But she's always ready to help me along." + +"People have already remarked upon your remarkable friendship," said his +friend, "and many ill-natured allegations have been made." + +"Oh, yes, I'm quite well aware of that, my dear fellow. It has pained me +more than enough. You yourself know that, as far as affection goes, I've +never in my life entertained a spark of it for Winnie. We were children +together, and have been friends always." + +"Quite so!" exclaimed Krail, smiling. "That's a pretty good story to +tell the world. But there's a point where mere friendship must break, +you know." + +"What do you mean?" asked the other, glancing at him in surprise. + +"Well, the story you tell other people may be picturesque and romantic, +but with me it's just a trifle weak. Lady Heyburn doesn't give her +pearls to be pawned, out of mere friendship, you know." + +Flockart was silent. He knew too well that the man walking at his side +was as clever an intriguer and as bold an adventurer as had ever moved +up and down Europe "working the game" in search of pigeons to pluck. His +shabbiness was assumed. He had alighted at Bordighera station from the +_rapide_ from Paris, spent the night at a third-rate hotel in order not +to be recognised at the Angst or any of the smarter houses, and had met +him by appointment to explain the present situation. His remarks, +however, were the reverse of reassuring. What did he suspect? + +"I don't quite follow you, Krail," Flockart said. + +"I meant to imply that if friendship only links you with Lady Heyburn, +the chain may quite easily snap," he remarked. + +He looked at his friend, much puzzled. He could see no point in that +observation. + +Krail read what was passing in the other's mind, and added, "I know, +_mon cher ami_, that affection from her ladyship is entirely out of the +question. The gossips are liars. And----" + +"Sir Henry himself is quite aware of that. I have already spoken quite +plainly and openly to him, and suggested my departure from Glencardine +on account of ill-natured remarks by her ladyship's enemies. But he +would not hear of my leaving, and pressed me to remain." + +Krail looked at him in blank surprise. "Well," he said, "if you've been +bold enough to do this in face of the gossip, then you're a much +cleverer man than ever I took you to be." + +For answer, Flockart took some letters from his breast-pocket, selected +one written in a foreign hand, and gave it to Krail to read. It was from +the hermit of Glencardine, written at his dictation by Monsieur Goslin, +and was couched in the warmest and most confidential terms. + +"Look here, James," exclaimed the shabby man, handing back the letter, +"I'm going to be perfectly frank with you. Tell me if I speak the truth +or if I lie. It is neither affection nor friendship which links your +life with that woman's. Am I right?" + +Flockart did not answer for some moments. His eyes were cast upon the +ground. "Yes, Krail," he admitted at last when the question had been put +to him a second time--"yes, Krail. You speak the truth. It is neither +affection nor friendship." + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +SHOWS GABRIELLE IN EXILE + +Midway between historic Fotheringhay and ancient Apethorpe, the +ancestral seat of the Earls of Westmorland, lay the long, straggling, +and rather poverty-stricken village of Woodnewton. Like many other +Northamptonshire villages, it consisted of one long street of cottages, +many of them with dormer windows peeping from beneath the brown thatch, +the better houses of stone, with old mullioned windows, but all of them +more or less in stages of decay. With the depreciation in agriculture, +Woodnewton, once quite a prosperous little place, was now terribly +shabby and depressing. + +As he entered the village, the first object that met the eye of the +stranger was a barn with the roof half fallen away, and next it a ruined +house with its moss-grown thatch full of holes. The paving was ill-kept, +and even the several inns bore an appearance of struggles with poverty. + +Half-way up the long, straight, dispiriting street stood a cottage +larger and neater-looking than the rest. Its ugly exterior was +half-hidden by ivy, which had been cut away from the diamond-paned +windows; while, unlike its neighbours, its roof was tiled and its brown +door newly painted and highly varnished. + +Old Miss Heyburn lived there, and had lived there for the past +half-century. The prim, grey-haired, and somewhat eccentric old lady was +a well-known figure to all on that country-side. Twice each Sunday, with +her large-type Prayer-book in her hand, and her steel-rimmed spectacles +on her thin nose, she walked to church, while she was one of the +principal supporters of the village clothing-club and such-like +institutions inaugurated by the worthy rector. + +Essentially an ascetic person, she was looked upon with fear by all the +villagers. Her manner was brusque, her speech sharp, and her criticism +of neglectful mothers caustic and much to the point. Prim, always in +black bonnet and jet-trimmed cape of years gone by, both in summer and +winter, she took no heed of the vagaries of fashion, even when they +reached Woodnewton so tardily. + +The common report was that when a girl she had been "crossed in love," +for her single maidservant she always trained to a sober and loveless +life like her own, and as soon as a girl cast an eye upon a likely swain +she was ignominiously dismissed. + +That the sharp-tongued spinster possessed means was undoubted. It was +known that she was sister of Sir Henry Heyburn of Caistor, in +Lincolnshire; and, on account of her social standing, she on rare +occasions was bidden to the omnium gatherings at some of the mansions in +the neighbourhood. She seldom accepted; but when she did it was only to +satisfy her curiosity and to criticise. + +The household of two, the old lady and her exemplary maid, was assuredly +a dull one. Meals were taken with punctual regularity amid a cleanliness +that was almost painful. The tiny drawing-room, with its row of +window-plants, including a pot of strong-smelling musk, was hardly ever +entered. Not a speck of dust was allowed anywhere, for Miss Emily's eye +was sharp, and woe betide the maid if a mere suspicion of dirt were +discovered! Everything was kept locked up. One maid who resigned +hurriedly, refusing to be criticised, afterwards declared that her +mistress kept the paraffin under lock and key. + +And into this uncomfortably prim and proper household little Gabrielle +had suddenly been introduced. Her heart overburdened by grief, and full +of regret at being compelled to part from the father she so fondly +loved, she had accepted the inevitable, fully realising the dull +greyness of the life that lay before her. Surely her exile there was a +cruel and crushing one! The house seemed so tiny and so suffocating +after the splendid halls and huge rooms at Glencardine, while her aunt's +constant sarcasm about her father--whom she had not seen for eight +years--was particularly galling. + +The woman treated the girl as a wayward child sent there for punishment +and correction. She showed her neither kindness nor consideration; for, +truth to tell, it annoyed her to think that her brother should have +imposed the girl upon her. She hated to be bothered with the girl; but, +existing upon Sir Henry's charity, as she really did, though none knew +it, she could do no otherwise than accept his daughter as her guest. + +Days, weeks, months had passed, each day dragging on as its predecessor, +a wretched, hopeless, despairing existence to a girl so full of life and +vitality as Gabrielle. Though she had written several times to her +father, he had sent her no reply. To her mother at San Remo she had also +written, and from her had received one letter, cold and unresponsive. +From Walter Murie nothing--not a single word. + +The well-thumbed books in the village library she had read, as well as +those in the possession of her aunt. She had tried needlework, problems +of patience, and the translation of a few chapters of an Italian novel +into English in order to occupy her time. But those hours when she was +alone in her little upstairs room with the sloping roof passed, alas! so +very slowly. + +Upon her, ever oppressive, were thoughts of that bitter past. At one +staggering blow she had lost all that had made her young life worth +living--her father's esteem and her lover's love. She was innocent, +entirely innocent, of the terrible allegations against her, and yet she +was so utterly defenceless! + +Often she sat at her little window for hours watching the lethargy of +village life in the street below, that rural life in which the rector +and the schoolmaster were the principal figures. The dullness of it all +was maddening. Her aunt's mid-Victorian primness, her snappishness +towards the trembling maid, and the thousand and one rules of her daily +life irritated her and jarred upon her nerves. + +So, in order to kill time, and at the same time to study the antiquities +of the neighbourhood--her father having taught her so much deep +antiquarian knowledge--it had been her habit for three months past to +take long walks for many miles across the country, accompanied by the +black collie Rover belonging to a young farmer who lived at the end of +the village. The animal had one day attached itself to her while she was +taking a walk on the Apethorpe road; and now, by her feeding him daily +and making a pet of him, the girl and the dog had become inseparable. By +long walks and short train-journeys she had, in three months, been able +to inspect most of the antiquities of Northamptonshire. Much of the +history of the county was intensely interesting: the connection of old +Fotheringhay with the ill-fated Mary Queen of Scots, the beauties of +Peterborough Cathedral, the splendid old Tudor house of Deene (the home +of the Earls of Cardigan), the legends of King John concerning King's +Cliffe, the gaunt splendour of ruined Kirby, and the old-world charm of +Apethorpe. All these, and many others, had great attraction for her. She +read them up in books she ordered from London, and then visited the old +places with all the enthusiasm of a spectacled antiquary. + +Every day, no matter what the weather, she might be seen, in her thick +boots, burberry, and tam o'shanter, trudging along the roads or across +the fields accompanied by the faithful collie. The winter had been a +comparatively mild one, with excessive rain. But no downpour troubled +her. She liked the rain to beat into her face, for the dismal, +monotonous cheerlessness of the brown fields, bare trees, and muddy +roads was in keeping with the tragedy of her own young life. + +She knew that her aunt Emily disliked her. The covert sneers, the +caustic criticisms, and the go-to-meeting attitude of the old lady +irritated the girl beyond measure. She was not wanted in that painfully +prim cottage, and had been made to understand it from the first day. + +Hence it was that she spent all the time she possibly could out of +doors. Alone she had traversed the whole county, seeking permission to +glance at the interior of any old house or building that promised +archaeological interest, and by that means making some curious +friendships. + +Many people regarded the pretty young girl who made a study of old +churches and old houses as somewhat eccentric. Local antiquaries, +however, stared at her in wonder when they found that she was possessed +of knowledge far more profound than theirs, and that she could decipher +old documents and read Latin inscriptions with ease. + +She made few friends, preferring solitude and reflection to visiting and +gossiping. Hers was, indeed, a pathetic little figure, and the +countryfolk used to stare at her in surprise and sigh as she passed +through the various little hamlets and villages so regularly, the black +collie bounding before her. + +Quickly she had become known as "Miss Heyburn's niece," and the report +having spread that she was "a bit eccentric, poor thing," people soon +ceased to wonder, and began to regard that pale, sad face with sympathy. +The whole country-side was wondering why such a pretty young lady had +gone to live in the deadly dullness of Woodnewton, and what was the +cause of that great sorrow written upon her countenance. + +Her daily burden of bitter reflection was, indeed, hard to bear. Her one +thought, as she walked those miles of lonely rural byways, so bare and +cheerless, was of Walter--her Walter--the man who, she knew, would have +willingly given his very life for hers. She had met her just punishment, +and was now endeavouring to bear it bravely. She had renounced his love +for ever. + +One afternoon, dark and rainy, in the gloom of early March, she was +sitting at the old-fashioned and rather tuneless piano in the damp, +unused "best room," which was devoid of fire for economic reasons. Her +aunt was seated in the window busily crocheting, while she, with her +white fingers running across the keys, raised her sweet contralto voice +in that old-world Florentine song that for centuries has been sung by +the populace in the streets of the city by the Arno: + + In questa notte in sogno l'ho veduto + Era vestito tutto di braccato, + Le piume sul berretto di velluto + Ed una spada d'oro aveva allato. + + E poi m'ha detto con un bel sorriso; + Io no, non posso star da te diviso, + Da te diviso non ci posso stare + E torno per mai pin non ti lasciare. + +Miss Heyburn sighed, and looked up from her work. "Can't you sing +something in English, Gabrielle? It would be much better," she remarked +in a snappy tone. + +The girl's mouth hardened slightly at the corners, and she closed the +piano without replying. + +"I don't mean you to stop," exclaimed the ascetic old lady. "I only +think that girls, instead of learning foreign songs, should be able to +sing English ones properly. Won't you sing another?" + +"No," replied the girl, rising. "The rain has ceased, so I shall go for +my walk;" and she left the room to put on her hat and mackintosh, +passing along before the window a few minutes later in the direction of +King's Cliffe. + +It was always the same. If she indulged herself in singing one or other +of those ancient love-songs of the hot-blooded Tuscan peasants her aunt +always scolded. Nothing she did was right, for the simple reason that +she was an unwelcome visitor. + +She was alone. Rover was conducting sheep to Stamford market, as was his +duty every week; therefore in the fading daylight she went along, +immersed in her own sad thoughts. Her walk at that hour was entirely +aimless. She had only gone forth because of the irritation she felt at +her aunt's constant complaints. So entirely engrossed was she by her own +despair that she had not noticed the figure of a man who, catching sight +of her at the end of Woodnewton village, had held back until she had +gone a considerable distance, and had then sauntered leisurely in the +direction she had taken. + +The man kept her in view, but did not approach her. The high, red +mail-cart passed, and the driver touched his hat respectfully to her. +The man who collected the evening mail from all the villages between +Deene and Peterborough met her almost every evening, and had long ago +inquired and learnt who she was. + +For nearly two miles she walked onward, until, close by the junction of +the road which comes down the hill from Nassington, the man who had been +following hastened up and overtook her. + +She heard herself addressed by name, and, turning quickly, found herself +face to face with James Flockart. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE VELVET PAW + +The new-comer stood before Gabrielle, hat in hand, smiling pleasantly +and uttering a greeting of surprise. + +Her response was cold, for was not all her present unhappiness due to +him? + +"I've come here to speak to you, Gabrielle--to speak to you in +confidence." + +"Whatever you have to say may surely be said in the hearing of a third +person?" was her dignified answer. His sudden appearance had startled +her, but only for a moment. She was cool again next instant, and on her +guard against her enemy. + +"I hardly think," he said, with a meaning smile, "that you would really +like me to speak before a third party." + +"I really care nothing," was her answer. "And I cannot see why you seek +me here. When one is hopeless, as I am, one becomes callous of what the +future may bring." + +"Hopeless! Yes," he said in a changed voice, "I know that; living in +this dismal hole, Gabrielle, you must be hopeless. I know that your +exile here, away from all your friends and those you love, must be +soul-killing. Don't think that I have not reflected upon it a hundred +times." + +"Ah, then you have at last experienced remorse!" she cried bitterly, +looking straight into the man's face. "You have estranged me from my +father, and tried to ruin him! You lied to him--lied in order to save +yourself!" + +The man laughed. "My dear child," he exclaimed, "you really misjudge me +entirely. I am here for two reasons: to ask your forgiveness for making +that allegation which was imperative; and, secondly, to assure you that, +if you will allow me, I will yet be your friend." + +"Friend!" she echoed in a hollow voice. "You--my friend!" + +"Yes. I know that you mistrust me," he replied; "but I want to prove +that my intentions towards you are those of real friendship." + +"And you, who ever since my girlhood days have been my worst enemy, ask +me now to trust you!" she exclaimed with indignation. "No; go back to +Lady Heyburn and tell her that I refuse to accept the olive-branch which +you and she hold out to me." + +"My dear girl, you don't follow me," he exclaimed impatiently. "This has +nothing whatever to do with Lady Heyburn. I have come to you from purely +personal motives. My sole desire is to effect your return to +Glencardine." + +"For your own ends, Mr. Flockart, without a doubt!" she said bitterly. + +"Ah! there you are quite mistaken. Though you assert that I am your +father's enemy, I am, I tell you, his friend. He is ever thinking of you +with regret. You were his right hand. Would it not be far better if he +invited you to return?" + +She sighed at the thought of the blind man whom she regarded with such +entire devotion, but answered, "No, I shall never return to +Glencardine." + +"Why?" he asked. "Was it anything more than natural that, believing you +had been prying into his affairs, your father, in a moment of anger, +condemned you to this life of appalling monotony?" + +"No, not more natural than that you, the culprit, should have made me +the scapegoat for the second time," was her defiant reply. + +"Have I not already told you that the reason I'm here is to crave your +forgiveness? I admit that my actions have been the reverse of +honourable; but--well, there were circumstances which compelled me to +act as I did." + +"You got an impression of my father's safe-key, had a duplicate made in +Glasgow, as I have found out, and one night opened the safe and copied +certain private documents having regard to a proposed loan to the Greek +Government. The night I discovered you was the second occasion when you +went to the library and opened the safe. Do you deny that?" + +"What you allege, Gabrielle, is perfectly correct," he replied. "I know +that I was a blackguard to shield myself behind you--to tell the lie I +did that night. But how could I avoid it?" + +"Suppose I had, in retaliation, spoken the truth?" she asked, looking +the man straight in the face. + +"Ah! I knew that you would not do that." + +"You believe that I dare not--dare not for my own sake, eh?" + +He nodded in the affirmative. + +"Then you are much mistaken, Mr. Flockart," she said in a hard voice. +"You don't understand that a woman may become desperate." + +"I can understand how desperate you have become, living in this 'Sleepy +Hollow.' A week of it would, I admit, drive me to distraction." + +"Then if you understand my present position you will know that I am +fearless of you, or of anybody else. My life has ended. I have neither +happiness, comfort, peace of mind, nor love. All is of the past. To +you--you, James Flockart--I am indebted for all this! You have held me +powerless. I was a happy girl once, but you and your dastardly friends +crossed my path like an evil shadow, and I have existed in an inferno of +remorse ever since. I----" + +"Remorse! How absurdly you talk!" + +"It will not be absurd when I speak the truth and tell the world what I +know. It will be rather a serious matter for you, Mr. Flockart." + +"You threaten me, then?" he asked, his eyes flashing for a second. + +"I think it is as well for us to understand one another at once," she +said frankly. + +They had halted upon a small bridge close to the entrance to Apethorpe +village. + +"Then I'm to understand that you refuse my proffered assistance?" he +asked. + +"I require no assistance from my enemies," was her defiant and dignified +reply. "I suppose Lady Heyburn is at the villa at San Remo as usual, and +that it was she who sent you to me, because she recognises that you've +both gone a little too far. You have. When the opportunity arises, then +I shall speak, regardless of the consequences. Therefore, Mr. Flockart, +I wish you good-evening;" and she turned away. + +"No, Gabrielle," he cried, resolutely barring her path. "You must hear +me. You don't grasp the point of my argument." + +"With me none of your arguments are of any avail," was her response in a +bitter tone. "I, alas! have reason to know you too well. For you--by +your clever intrigue--I committed a crime; but God knows I am innocent +of what was intended. Now that you have estranged me from my father and +my lover, I shall confess--confess all--before I make an end of my +life." + +He saw from her pale, drawn face that she was desperate. He grew afraid. + +"But, my dear girl, think--of what you are saying! You don't mean it; +you can't mean it. Your father has relented, and will welcome you back, +if only you will consent to return." + +"I have no wish to be regarded as the prodigal daughter," was her proud +response. + +"Not for Walter Murie's sake?" asked the crafty man. "I have seen him. I +was at the club with him last night, and we had a chat about you. He +loves you very dearly. Ah! you do not know how he is suffering." + +She was silent, and he recognised in an instant that his words had +touched the sympathetic chord in her heart. + +"He is not suffering any greater grief than I am," she said in a low, +mechanical voice, her brow heavily clouded. + +"Of course I can quite understand that," he remarked sympathetically. +"Walter is a good fellow, and--well, it is indeed sad that matters +should be as they are. He is entirely devoted to you, Gabrielle." + +"Not more so than I am to him," declared the girl quite frankly. + +"Then why did you write breaking off your engagement?" + +"He told you that?" she exclaimed in surprise. + +The truth was that Murie had told Flockart nothing. He had not even seen +him. It was only a wild guess on Flockart's part. + +"Tell me," she urged anxiously, "what did he say concerning myself?" + +Flockart hesitated. His mind was instantly active in the concoction of a +story. + +"Oh, well--he expressed the most profound regret for all that had +occurred at Glencardine, and is, of course, utterly puzzled. It appears +that just before Christmas he went home to Connachan and visited your +father several times. From him, I suppose, he heard how you had been +discovered." + +"You told him nothing?" + +"I told him nothing," declared Flockart--which was a fact. + +"Did he express a wish to see me?" she inquired. + +"Of course he did. Is he not over head and ears in love with you? He +believes you have treated him cruelly." + +"I--I know I have, Mr. Flockart," she admitted. "But I acted as any girl +of honour would have done. I was compelled to take upon myself a great +disgrace, and on doing so I released him from his promise to me." + +"Most honourable!" the man declared with a pretence of admiration, yet +underlying it all was a craftiness that surely was unsurpassed. That +visit of his to Northamptonshire was made with some ulterior motive, yet +what it was the girl was unable to discover. She would surely have been +cleverer than most people had she been able to discern the hidden, +sinister motives of James Flockart. The truth was that he had not seen +Murie, and the story of his anxiety he had only concocted on the spur of +the moment. + +"Walter asked me to give you a message," he went on. "He asked me to +urge you to return to Glencardine, and to withdraw that letter you wrote +him before your departure." + +"To return to Glencardine!" she repeated, staring into his face. "Walter +wishes me to do that! Why?" + +"Because he loves you. Because he will intercede with your father on +your behalf." + +"My father will hear nothing in my favour until--" and she paused. + +"Until what?" + +"Until I tell him the whole truth." + +"That you will never do," remarked Flockart quickly. + +"Ah! there you're mistaken," she responded. "In all probability I +shall." + +"Then, before you do so, pray weigh carefully the dire results," he +urged in a changed tone. + +"Oh, I've already done that long ago," she said. "I know that I am in +your hands, utterly and irretrievably, Mr. Flockart, and the only way I +can regain my freedom is by boldly telling the truth." + +"You must never do that! By Heaven, you shall not!" he cried, looking +fiercely into her clear eyes. + +"I know! I'm quite well aware of your attitude towards me. The claws +cannot be entirely concealed in the cat's paw, you know;" and she +laughed bitterly into his face. + +The corners of the man's mouth hardened. He was about to speak and show +himself in his true colours; but by dint of great self-control he +managed to smile and exclaim, "Then you will take no heed of these +wishes of the man who loves you so dearly, of the man who is still your +best and most devoted friend? You prefer to remain here, and wear out +your young life with vain regrets and shattered affections. Come, +Gabrielle, do be sensible." + +The girl did not speak for several moments. "Does Walter really wish me +to return?" she asked, looking straight at him, as though trying to +discern whether he was really speaking the truth. + +"Yes. He expressed to me a strong wish that you should either return to +Glencardine or go and live at Park Street." + +"He wishes to see me?" + +"Of course. It would perhaps be better if you met him first, either down +here or in London. Why should you two not be happy?" he went on. "I know +it is my fault you are consigned to this dismal life, and that you and +Walter are parted; but, believe me, Gabrielle, I am at this moment +endeavouring to bring you together again, and to reinstate you in Sir +Henry's good graces. He is longing for you to return. When I saw him +last at Glencardine he told me that Monsieur Goslin was not so clever at +typing or in grasping his meaning as you are, and he is only awaiting +your return." + +"That may be so," answered the girl in a slow, distinct voice; "but +perhaps you'll tell me, Mr. Flockart, the reason you evinced such an +unwonted curiosity in my father's affairs?" + +"My dear girl," laughed the man, "surely that isn't a fair question. I +had certain reasons of my own." + +"Yes; assisted by Lady Heyburn, you thought that you could make money by +obtaining knowledge of my father's secrets. Oh yes, I know--I know more +than you have ever imagined," declared the girl boldly. "You hope to get +rid of Monsieur Goslin from Glencardine and reinstate me--for your own +ends. I see it all." + +The man bit his lip. With chagrin he recognised that he had blundered, +and that she, shrewd and clever, had taken advantage of his error. He +was, however, too clever to exhibit his annoyance. + +"You are quite wrong in your surmise, Gabrielle," he said quickly. +"Walter Murie loves you, and loves you well. Therefore, with regret at +my compulsory denunciation of yourself, I am now endeavouring to assist +you." + +"Thank you," she responded coldly, again turning away abruptly. "I +require no assistance from a man such as yourself--a man who entrapped +me, and who denounced me in order to save himself." + +"You will regret these words," he declared, as she walked away in the +direction of Woodnewton. + +She turned upon him in fierce anger, retorting, "And perhaps you, on +your part, will regret your endeavour to entrap me a second time. I have +promised to speak the truth, and I shall keep my promise. I am not +afraid to sacrifice my own life to save my father's honour!" + +The man stood staring after her. These words of hers held him +motionless. What if she flung her good name to the winds and actually +carried out her threat? What if she really spoke the truth? Ay, what +then? + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +BETRAYS THE BOND + +The girl hurried on, her heart filled with wonder, her eyes brimming +with tears of indignation. The one thought occupying her whole mind was +whether Walter really wished to see her again. Had Flockart spoken the +truth? The serious face of the man she loved so well rose before her +blurred vision. She had been his--his very own--until she had sent off +that fateful letter. + +In five minutes Flockart had again overtaken her. His attitude was +appealing. He urged her to at least see her lover again even if she +refused to write or return to her father. + +"Why do you come here to taunt me like this?" she cried, turning upon +him angrily. "Once, because you were my mother's friend, I believed in +you. But you deceived me, and in consequence you hold me in your power. +Were it not for that I could have spoken to my father--have told him the +truth and cleared myself. He now believes that I have betrayed his +business secrets, while at the same time he considers you to be his +friend!" + +"I am his friend, Gabrielle," the man declared. + +"Why tell me such a lie?" she asked reproachfully. "Do you think I too +am blind?" + +"Certainly not. I give you credit for being quite as clever and as +intelligent as you are dainty and charming. I----" + +"Thank you!" she cried in indignation. "I require no compliments from +you." + +"Lady Heyburn has expressed a wish to see you," he said. "She is still +in San Remo, and asked me to invite you to go down there for a few +weeks. Your aunt has written her, I think, complaining that you are not +very comfortable at Woodnewton." + +"I have not complained. Why should Aunt Emily complain of me? You seem +to be the bearer of messages from the whole of my family, Mr. Flockart." + +"I am here entirely in your own interests, my dear child," he declared +with that patronising air which so irritated her. + +"Not entirely, I think," she said, smiling bitterly. + +"I tell you, I much regret all that has happened, and----" + +"You regret!" she cried fiercely. "Do you regret the end of that +woman--you know whom I mean?" + +Beneath her straight glance he quivered. She had referred to a subject +which he fain would have buried for ever. This dainty neat-waisted girl +knew a terrible secret. Was it not only too true, as Lady Heyburn had +vaguely suggested a dozen times, that her mouth ought to be effectually +sealed? + +He had sealed it once, as he thought. Her fear to explain to her father +the incident of the opening of the safe had given him confidence that no +word of the truth regarding the past would ever pass her lips. Yet he +saw that his own machinations were now likely to prove his undoing. The +web which, with her ladyship's assistance, he had woven about her was +now stretched to breaking-point. If it did yield, then the result must +be ruin--and worse. Therefore, he was straining every effort to again +reinstate her in her father's good graces and restore in her mind +something akin to confidence. But all his arguments, as he walked on at +her side in the gathering gloom, proved useless. She was in no mood to +listen to the man who had been her evil genius ever since her +school-days. As he was speaking she was wondering if she dared go to +Walter Murie and tell him everything. What would her lover think of her? +What indeed? He would only cast her aside as worthless. No. Far better +that he should remain in ignorance and retain only sad memories of their +brief happiness. + +"I am going to Glencardine to-night," Flockart went on. "I shall join +the mail at Peterborough. What shall I tell your father?" + +"Tell him the truth," was her reply. "That, I know, you will not do. So +why need we waste further words?" + +"Do you actually refuse, then, to leave this dismal hole?" he demanded +impatiently. + +"Yes, until I speak, and tell my father the plain and ghastly story." + +"Rubbish!" he ejaculated. "You'll never do that--unless you wish to +stand beside me in a criminal dock." + +"Well, rather that than be your cat's-paw longer, Mr. Flockart!" she +cried, her face flushing with indignation. + +"Oh, oh!" he laughed, still quite imperturbed. "Come, come! This is +scarcely a wise reply, my dear little girl!" + +"I wish you to leave me. You have insulted my intelligence enough this +evening, surely--you, who only a moment ago declared yourself my +friend!" + +Slowly he selected a cigarette from his gold case, and, halting, lit it. +"Well, if you meet my well-meant efforts on your behalf with open +antagonism like this I can't make any further suggestion." + +"No, please don't. Go up to Glencardine and do your worst for me. I am +now fully able to take care of myself," she exclaimed in defiance. "You +can also write to Lady Heyburn, and tell her that I am still, and that I +always will remain, my blind father's friend." + +"But why don't you listen to reason, Gabrielle?" he implored her. "I +don't now seek to lessen or deny the wrongs I have done you in the past, +nor do I attempt to conceal from you my own position. My only object is +to bring you and Walter together again. Her ladyship knows the whole +circumstances, and deeply regrets them." + +"Her regret will be the more poignant some day, I assure you." + +"Then you really intend to act vindictively?" + +"I shall act just as I think proper," she exclaimed, halting a moment +and facing him. "Please understand that though I have been forced in the +past to act as you have indicated, because I feared you--because I had +my reputation and my father's honour at stake--I hold you in terror no +longer, Mr. Flockart." + +"Well, I'm glad you've told me that," he said, laughing as though he +treated her declaration with humour. "It's just as well, perhaps, that +we should now thoroughly understand each other. Yet if I were you I +wouldn't do anything rash. By telling the truth you'd be the only +sufferer, you know." + +"The only sufferer! Why?" + +"Well, you don't imagine I should be such a fool as to admit that what +you said was true, do you?" + +She looked at him in surprise. It had never occurred to her that he, +with his innate unscrupulousness and cunning, might deny her +allegations, and might even be able to prove them false. + +"The truth could not be denied," she said simply. "Recollect the cutting +from the Edinburgh paper." + +"Truth is denied every day in courts of law," he retorted. "No. Before +you act foolishly, remember that, put to the test, your word would stand +alone against mine and those of other people. + +"Why, the very story you would tell would be so utterly amazing and +startling that the world would declare you had invented it. Reflect upon +it for a moment, and you'll find, my dear girl, that silence is golden +in this, as in any other circumstance in life." + +She raised her eyes to his, and met his gaze firmly. "So you defy me to +speak?" she cried. "You think that I will still remain in this accursed +bondage of yours?" + +"I utter no threats, my dear child," replied Flockart. "I have never in +my life threatened you. I merely venture to point out certain +difficulties which you might have in substantiating any allegation which +you might make against me. For that reason, if for none other, is it not +better for us to be friends?" + +"I am not the friend of my father's enemy!" she declared. + +"You are quite heroic," he declared with a covert sneer. "If you really +are bent upon providing the halfpenny newspapers with a fresh sensation, +pray let me know in plenty of time, won't you?" + +"I've had sufficient of your taunts," cried the girl, bursting into a +flood of hot tears. "Leave me. I--I'll say no further word to you." + +"Except to forgive me," He added. + +"Why should I?" she asked through her tears. + +"Because, for your own sake--for the sake of your future--it will surely +be best," he pointed out. "You, no doubt, in ignorance of legal +procedure, believed that what you alleged would be accepted in a court +of justice. But reflect fully before you again threaten me. Dry your +eyes, or your aunt may suspect something wrong." + +She did not reply. What he said impressed her, and he did not fail to +recognise that fact. He smiled within himself when he saw that he had +triumphed. Yet he had not gained his point. + +She had dashed away her tears with the little wisp of lace, annoyed with +herself at betraying her indignation in that womanly way. She knew him, +alas! too well. She mistrusted him, for she was well aware of how +cleverly he had once conspired with Lady Heyburn, and with what +ingenuity she herself had been drawn into the disgraceful and amazing +affair. + +True it was that her story, if told in a criminal court, would prove so +extraordinary that it would not be believed; true also that he would, of +course, deny it, and that his denial would be borne out by the woman +who, though her father's wife, was his worst enemy. + +The man placed his hand on her shoulder, saying, "May we not be friends, +Gabrielle?" + +She shook him off roughly, responding in the negative. + +"But we are not enemies--I mean we will not be enemies as we have been, +shall we?" he urged. + +To this she made no reply. She only quickened her pace, for the twilight +was fast deepening, and she wished to be back again at her aunt's house. + +Why had that man followed her? Why, indeed, had he troubled to come +there? She could not discern his motive. + +They walked together in silence. He was watching her face, reading it +like a book. + +Then, when they neared the first thatched cottage at the entrance to the +village, he halted, asking, "May we not now become friends, Gabrielle? +Will you not listen, and take my advice? Or will you still remain buried +here?" + +"I have nothing further to say, Mr. Flockart, than what I have already +said," was her defiant response. "I shall act as I think best." + +"And you will dare to speak, and place yourself in a ridiculous +position, you mean?" + +"I shall use my own judgment in defending my father from his enemies," +was her cold response as, with a slight shrug of her shoulders, she +turned and left him, hurrying forward in the darkening twilight along +the village street to her aunt's home. + +He, on his part, turned upon his heel with a muttered remark and set out +again to walk towards Nassington Station, whence, after nearly an hour's +wait in the village inn, he took train to Peterborough. + +The girl had once again defied him. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE WHISPERS AGAIN + +Was it really true what Flockart had told her? Did Walter actually wish +to see her again? At one moment she believed in her lover's strong, +passionate devotion to her, for had she not seen it displayed in a +hundred different ways? But the next she recollected how that man +Flockart had taken advantage of her youth and inexperience in the past, +how he had often lied so circumstantially that she had believed his +words to be the truth. Once, indeed, he had openly declared to her that +one of his maxims was never to tell the truth unless obliged. After +dinner, a simple meal served in the poky little dining-room, she made an +excuse to go to her room, and there sat for a long time, deeply +reflecting. Should she write to Walter? Would it be judicious to explain +Flockart's visit, and how he had urged their reconciliation? If she +wrote, would it lower her dignity in her lover's eyes? That was the +great problem which now troubled her. She sat staring before her +undecided. She recalled all that Flockart had told her. He was the +emissary of Lady Heyburn without a doubt. The girl had told him openly +of her decision to speak the truth and expose him, but he had only +laughed at her. Alas! she knew his true character, unscrupulous and +pitiless. But she placed him aside. + +Recollection of Walter--the man who had held her so often in his arms +and pressed his hot lips to hers, the man who was her father's firm +friend and whose uprightness and honesty of purpose she had ever +admired--crowded upon her. Should she write to him? Rigid and staring, +she sat in her chair, her little white hands clenched, as she tried to +summon courage. It had been she who had written declaring that their +secret engagement must be broken, she who had condemned herself. +Therefore, had she not a right to satisfy that longing she had had +through months, the longing to write to him once again. The thought +decided her; and, going to the table whereon the lamp was burning, she +sat down, and after some reflection, penned a letter as follows:-- + +"MY SWEETHEART, MY DARLING, MY OWN, MY SOUL--MINE--ONLY MINE,--I am +wondering how and where you are! True, I wrote you a cruel letter; but +it was imperative, and under the force of circumstance. I am full of +regrets, and I only wish with all my heart that I might kiss you once +again, and press you in my arms as I used to do. + +"But how are you? I have had you before my eyes to-night, and I feel +quite sure that at this very moment you are thinking of me. You must +know that I love you dearly. You gave me your heart, and it shall not +belong to any other. I have tried to be brave and courageous; but, alas! +I have failed. I love you, my darling, and I must see you soon--very +soon. + +"Mr. Flockart came to see me to-day and says that you expressed to him a +desire to meet me again. Gratify that desire when you will, and you will +find your Gabrielle just the same--longing ever to see you, living with +only the memories of your dear face. + +"Can you doubt of my great, great love for you? You never wrote in reply +to my letter, though I have waited for months. I know my letter was a +cruel one, and to you quite unwarranted; but I had a reason for writing +it, and the reason was because I felt that I ought not to deceive you +any longer. + +"You see, darling, I am frank and open. Yes, I have deceived you. I am +terribly ashamed and downhearted. I have tried to conceal my grief, even +from you; but it is impossible. I love you as much as I ever loved you, +and I swear to you that I have never once wavered. + +"Grim circumstance forced me to write to you as I did. Forgive me, I beg +of you. If it is true what Mr. Flockart says, then send me a telegram, +and come here to see me. If it be false, then I shall know by your +silence. + +"I love you, my own, my well-beloved! _Au revoir_, my dearest heart. I +look at your photograph which to-night smiles at me. Yes, you love me! + +"With many fond and sweet kisses like those I gave you in the +well-remembered days of our happiness. + +"My love--My king!" + +She read the letter carefully through, placed it in an envelope, and, +marking it private, addressed it to Walter's chambers in the Temple, +whence she knew it must be forwarded if he were away. Then, putting on +her tam o' shanter, she went out to the village grocer's, where she +posted it, so that it left by the early morning mail. When would his +welcome telegram arrive? She calculated that he would get the letter by +mid-day, and by one o'clock she could receive his reply--his reassurance +of love. + +So she went to her bed, with its white dimity hangings, more calm and +composed than for months before. For a long time she lay awake, thinking +of him, listening hour by hour to the chiming bells of the old Norman +church. They marked the passing of the night. Then she dropped off to +sleep, to be awakened by the sun streaming into the room. + +That same morning, away up in the Highlands at Glencardine, Sir Henry +had groped his way across the library to his accustomed chair, and Hill +had placed before him one of the shallow drawers of the cabinet of +seal-impressions. + +There were fully half a dozen which had been sent to him by the curator +of the museum at Norwich, sulphur-casts of seals recently acquired by +that institution. + +The blind man had put aside that morning to examine them, and settled +himself to his task with the keen and pleasurable anticipation of the +expert. + +They were very fine specimens. The blind man, sitting alone, selected +one, and, fingering it very carefully for a long time, at last made out +its design and the inscription upon it. + +"The seal of Abbot Simon de Luton, of the early thirteenth century," he +said slowly to himself. "The wolf guards the head of St. Edmund as it +does in the seal of the Benedictine Abbey of Bury St. Edmunds, while the +Virgin with the Child is over the canopy. And the verse is indeed +curious for its quaintness:" + ++ VIRGO . DEUM . FERT . DUX . CAPUD . AUFERT . QUOD . LUPUS . HIC . FERT + + +Then he again retraced the letters with his sensitive fingers to +reassure himself that he had made no mistake. + +The next he drew towards him proved to be the seal of the Vice-Warden of +the Grey Friars of Cambridge, a pointed one used about the year 1244, +which to himself he declared, in heraldic language, to bear the device +of "a cross raguly debruised by a spear, and a crown of thorns in bend +dexter, and a sponge on a staff in bend sinister, between two threefold +_flagella_ in base"--surely a formidable array of the instruments used +in the Passion. + +Deeply interested, and speaking to himself aloud, as was his habit when +alone, he examined them one after the other. Among the collection were +the seals of Berengar de Brolis, Plebanus of Pacina (in Syracuse), and +those of the Commune of Beauvais (1228); Mathilde (or Mahaut), daughter +of Henri Duke of Brabant (1265); the town of Oudenbourg in West +Flanders, and of the Vicar-Provincial of the Carmelite Order at Palermo +(1350); Jacobus de Gnapet, Bishop of Rennes (1480); and of Bondi Marquis +of Sasolini of Bologna (1323). + +He had almost concluded when Goslin, the grey-bearded Frenchman, having +breakfasted alone in the dining-room, entered. "Ah, _mon cher_ Sir +Henry!" he exclaimed, "at work so early! The study of seals must be very +fascinating to you, though I confess that, for myself, I could never see +in them very much to interest one." + +"No. To the ordinary person, my dear Goslin, it appears no doubt, a most +dryasdust study, but to a man afflicted like myself it is the only study +that he can pursue, for with his finger tips he can learn the devices +and decipher the inscriptions," the blind Baronet declared. "Take, for +instance, only this little collection of a dozen or so impressions which +they have so kindly sent to me from Norwich. Each one of them tells me +something. Its device, its general character, its heraldry, its +inscription, are all highly instructive. For the collector there are +opportunities for the study of the historical allusions, the +emblematology and imagery, the hagiology, the biographical and +topographical episodes, and the other peculiarities and idiosyncrasies +in all the seals he possesses." + +Goslin, like most other people, had been many times bored by the old +man's technical discourses upon his hobby. But he never showed it. He, +just the same as other people, made pretence of being interested. "Yes," +he remarked, "they must be most instructive to the student. I recollect +seeing a great quantity in the Bargello at Florence." + +"Ah, a very fine collection--part of the Medici collection, and contains +some of the finest Italian and Spanish specimens," remarked the blind +connoisseur. "Birch of the British Museum is quite right in declaring +that the seal, portable and abounding in detail, not difficult of +acquisition nor hard to read if we set about deciphering the story it +has to tell, takes us back as we look upon it to the very time of its +making, and sets us, as it were, face to face with the actual owners of +the relic." + +The Frenchman sighed. He saw he was in for a long dissertation; and, +moving uneasily towards the window, changed the topic of conversation by +saying, "I had a long letter from Paris this morning. Krail is back +again, it appears." + +"Ah, that man!" cried the other impatiently. "When will his +extraordinary energies be suppressed? They are watching him carefully, I +suppose." + +"Of course," replied the Frenchman. "He left Paris about a month ago, +but unfortunately the men watching him did not follow. He took train for +Berlin, and has been absent until now." + +"We ought to know where he's been, Goslin," declared the elder man. +"What fool was it who, keeping him under surveillance, allowed him to +slip from Paris?" + +"The Russian Tchernine." + +"I thought him a clever fellow, but it seems that he's a bungler after +all." + +"But while we keep Krail at arm's length, as we are doing, what have we +to fear?" asked Goslin. + +"Yes, but how long can we keep him at arm's length?" queried Sir Henry. +"You know the kind of man--one of the most extraordinarily inventive in +Europe. No secret is safe from him. Do you know, Goslin," he added, in a +changed voice, "I live nowadays somehow in constant apprehension." + +"You've never possessed the same self-confidence since you found +Mademoiselle Gabrielle with the safe open," he remarked. + +"No. Murie, or some other man she knows, must have induced her to do +that, and take copies of those documents. Fortunately, I suspected an +attempt, and baited the trap accordingly." + +"What caused you to suspect?" + +"Because more than once both Murie and the girl seemed to be seized by +an unusual desire to pry into my business." + +"You don't think that our friend Flockart had anything to do with the +affair?" the Frenchman suggested. + +"No, no. Not in the least. I know Flockart too well," declared the old +man. "Once I looked upon him as my enemy, but I have now come to the +conclusion that he is a friend--a very good friend." + +The Frenchman pulled a rather wry face, and remained silent. + +"I know," Sir Henry went on, "I know quite well that his constant +association with my wife has caused a good deal of gossip; but I have +dismissed it all with the contempt that such attempted scandal deserves. +It has been put about by a pack of women who are jealous of my wife's +good looks and her _chic_ in dress." + +"Are not Flockart and mademoiselle also good friends?" inquired Goslin. + +"No. I happen to know that they are not, and that very fact in itself +shows me that Gabrielle, in trying to get at the secret of my business, +was not aided by Flockart, for it was he who exposed her." + +"Yes," remarked the Frenchman, "so you've told me before. Have you heard +from mademoiselle lately?" + +"Only twice since she has left here," was the old man's bitter reply, +"and that was twice too frequently. I've done with her, Goslin--done +with her entirely. Never in all my life did I receive such a crushing +blow as when I found that she, in whom I reposed the utmost confidence, +had played her own father false, and might have ruined him!" + +"Yes," remarked the other sympathetically, "it was a great blow to you, +I know. But will you not forgive mademoiselle?" + +"Forgive her!" he cried fiercely, "forgive her! Never!" + +The grey-bearded Frenchman, who had always been a great favourite with +Gabrielle, sighed slightly, and gave his shoulders a shrug of regret. + +"Why do you ask that?" inquired Sir Henry, "when she herself admitted +that she had been at the safe?" + +"Because----" and the other hesitated. "Well, for several reasons. The +story of your quarrel with mademoiselle has leaked out." + +"The Whispers--eh, Goslin?" laughed the old man in defiance. "Let the +people believe what they will. My daughter shall never return to +Glencardine--never!" + +As he had been speaking the door had opened, and James Flockart stood +upon the threshold. He had overheard the blind man's words, and as he +came forward he smiled, more in satisfaction than in greeting. + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +CONTAINS A FURTHER MYSTERY + +"My dear Edgar, when I met you in the Devonshire Club last night I could +scarcely believe my own eyes. Fancy you turning up again!" + +"Yes, strange, isn't it, how two men may drift apart for years, and then +suddenly meet in a club, as we have done, Murie?" + +"Being with those fellows who were anxious to go along and see the show +at the Empire last night, I had no opportunity of having a chat with +you, my dear old chap. That's why I asked you to look in." + +The two men were seated in Walter's dingy chambers on the second floor +in Fig-Tree Court, Temple. The room was an old and rather frowsy one, +with shabby leather furniture from which the stuffing protruded, +panelled walls, a carpet almost threadbare, and a formidable array of +calf-bound volumes in the cases lining one wall. The place was heavy +with tobacco-smoke as the pair, reclining in easy-chairs, were in the +full enjoyment of very excellent cigars. + +Walter's visitor was a tall, dark man, some six or seven years his +senior, a rather spare, lantern-jawed young fellow, whose dark-grey +clothes were of unmistakable foreign cut; and whose moustache was +carefully trained to an upward trend. No second glance was required to +decide that Edgar Hamilton was a person who, having lived a long time on +the Continent, had acquired the cosmopolitan manner both in gesture and +in dress. + +"Well," exclaimed Murie at last, blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips, +"since we parted at Oxford I've been called to the Bar, as you see. As +for practice--well, I haven't any. The gov'nor wants me to go in for +politics, so I'm trying to please him by getting my hand in. I make an +odd speech or two sometimes in out-of-the-world villages, and I hope, +one day, to find myself the adopted candidate for some borough or other. +Last year I was sent round the world by my fond parents in order to +obtain a broader view of life. Is it not Tacitus who says, '_Sua cuique +vita obscura est_'?" + +"Yes, my dear fellow," replied Hamilton, stretching himself lazily in +his chair. "And surely we can say with Martial, '_Non est vivere, sed +valere vita_'--I am well, therefore I am alive! Mine has been a rather +curious career up to the present. I only once heard of you after +Oxford--through Arthur Price, who was, you'll remember, at Balliol. He +wrote that he'd spoken one night to you when at supper at the Savoy. You +had a bevy of beauties with you, he said." + +Both men laughed. In the old days, Edgar Hamilton had been essentially a +ladies' man; but, since they had parted one evening on the +station-platform at Oxford, Hamilton had gone up to town and completely +out of the life of Walter Murie. They had not met until the previous +evening, when Walter, having dined at the Devonshire--that comfortable +old-world club in St. James's Street which was the famous Crockford's +gaming-house in the days of the dandies--he had met his old friend in +the strangers' smoking-room, the guest of a City stockbroker who was +entertaining a party. A hurried greeting of surprise, and an invitation +to call in at the Temple resulted in that meeting on that grey +afternoon. + +Six years had gone since they had parted; and, judging from Edgar's +exterior, he had been pretty prosperous. + +Walter was laughing and commenting upon it when his friend, removing his +cigar from his lips, said, "My dear fellow, my success has been entirely +due to one incident which is quite romantic. In fact, if anybody wrote +it in a book people would declare it to be fiction." + +"That's interesting! Tell me all about it. My own life has been humdrum +enough in all conscience. As a budding politician, I have to browse upon +blue-books and chew statistics." + +"And mine has been one of travel, adventure, and considerable +excitement," declared Hamilton. "Six months after I left Oxford I found +myself out in Transcaucasia as a newspaper correspondent. As you know, I +often wrote articles for some of the more precious papers when at +college. Well, one of them sent me out to travel through the disturbed +Kurdish districts. I had a tough time from the start. I was out with a +Cossack party in Thai Aras valley, east of Erivan, for six months, and +wrote lots of articles which created a good deal of sensation here in +England. You may have seen them, but they were anonymous. The life of +excitement, sometimes fighting and at others in ambush in the mountains, +suited me admirably, for I'm a born adventurer, I believe. One day, +however, a strange thing happened. I was riding along alone through one +of the mountain passes towards the Caspian when I discovered three wild, +fierce-looking Kurds maltreating a girl, believing her to be a Russian. +I called upon them to release her, for she was little more than a child; +and, as they did not, I shot two of the men. The third shot and plugged +me rather badly in the leg; but I had the satisfaction that my shots +attracted my Cossack companions, who, coming quickly on the spot, killed +all three of the girl's assailants, and released her." + +"By Jove!" laughed Murie. "Was she pretty?" + +"Not extraordinarily--a fair-haired girl of about fifteen, dressed in +European clothes. I fainted from loss of blood, and don't remember +anything else until I found myself in a tent, with two Cossacks patching +up my wound. When I came to, she rushed forward, and thanked me +profusely for saving her. To my surprise, she spoke in French, and on +inquiry I found that she was the daughter of a certain Baron Conrad de +Hetzendorf, an Austrian, who possessed a house in Budapest and a château +at Semlin, in South Hungary. She told us a curious story. Her father had +some business in Transcaucasia, and she had induced him to take her with +him on his journey. Only certain districts of the country were +disturbed; and apparently, with their guide and escort, they had +unwittingly entered the Aras region--one of the most lawless of them +all--in ignorance of what was in progress. She and her father, +accompanied by a guide and four Cossacks, had been riding along when +they met a party of Kurds, who had attacked them. Both father and +daughter had been seized, whereupon she had lost consciousness from +fright, and when she came to again found that the four Cossacks had been +killed, her father had been taken off, and she was alone in the brutal +hands of those three wild-looking tribesmen. As soon as she had told us +this, the officer of the Cossacks to which I had attached myself called +the men together, and in a quarter of an hour the whole body went forth +to chase the Kurds and rescue the Baron. One big Cossack, in his long +coat and astrakhan cap, was left to look after me, while Nicosia--that +was the girl's name--was also left to assist him. After three days they +returned, bringing with them the Baron, whose delight at finding his +daughter safe and unharmed was unbounded. They had fought the Kurds and +defeated them, killing nearly twenty. Ah, my dear Murie, you haven't any +notion of the lawless state of that country just then! And I fear it is +pretty much the same now." + +"Well, go on," urged his friend. "What about the girl? I suppose you +fell in love with her, and all that, eh?" + +"No, you're mistaken there, old chap," was his reply. "When she +explained to her father what had happened, the Baron thanked me very +warmly, and invited me to visit him in Budapest when my leg grew strong +again. He was a man of about fifty, who, I found, spoke English very +well. Nicosia also spoke English, for she had explained to me that her +mother, now dead, had been a Londoner. The Baron's business in +Transcaucasia was, he told me vaguely, in connection with the survey of +a new railway which the Russian Government was projecting eastward from +Erivan. For two days he remained with us; but during those days my wound +was extremely painful owing to lack of surgical appliances, so we spoke +of very little else besides the horrible atrocities committed by the +Kurds. He pressed me to visit him; and then, with an escort of our +Cossacks, he and his daughter left for Tiflis; whence he took train back +to Hungary. + +"For six months I remained, still leading that roving, adventurous life. +My leg was well again, but my journalistic commission was at an end, and +one day I found myself in Odessa, very short of funds. I recollected the +Baron's invitation to Budapest, therefore I took train there, and found +his residence to be one of those great white houses on the Franz Josef +Quay. He received me with marked enthusiasm, and compelled me to be his +guest. During the first week I was there I told him, in confidence, my +position, whereupon he offered me a very lucrative post as his +secretary, a post which I have retained until this moment." + +"And the girl?" Walter asked, much interested. + +"Oh, she finished her education in Dresden and in Paris, and now lives +mostly with her aunt in Vienna," was Hamilton's response. "Quite +recently she's become engaged to young Count de Solwegen, the son of one +of the wealthiest men in Austria." + +"I thought you'd probably become the happy lover." + +"Lover!" cried his friend. "How could a poor devil like myself ever +aspire to the hand of the daughter of the Baron de Hetzendorf? The name +doesn't convey much to you, I suppose?" + +"No, I don't take much interest in unknown foreigners, I confess," +replied Walter, with a smile. + +"Ah, you're not a cosmopolitan nor a financier, or you would know the +thousand-and-one strings which are pulled by Conrad de Hetzendorf, or +the curious stories afloat concerning him." + +"Curious stories!" echoed Murie. "Tell me some. I'm always interested in +anything mysterious." + +Hamilton was silent for a few moments. + +"Well, old chap, to tell you the truth, even though I've got such a +comfortable and lucrative post, I'm, even after these years, +considerably mystified." + +"How?" + +"By the real nature of the Baron's business." + +"Oh, he's a mysterious person, is he?" + +"Very. Though I'm his confidential secretary, and deal with his affairs +in his absence, yet in some matters he is remarkably close, as though he +fears me." + +"You live always in Budapest, I suppose?" + +"No. In summer we are at the country house, a big place overlooking the +Danube outside Semlin, and commanding a wide view of the great Hungarian +plain." + +"The Baron transacts his business there, eh?" + +"From there or from Budapest. His business is solely with an office in +the Boulevard des Capucines in Paris, and a registered telegraphic +address also in Paris." + +"Well, there's nothing very mysterious in that, surely. Some business +matters must, of necessity, be conducted with secrecy." + +"I know all that, my dear fellow, but--" and he hesitated, as though +fearing to take his friend into his confidence. + +"But what?" + +"Well--but there, no! You'd laugh at me if I told you the real reason of +my uneasiness." + +"I certainly won't, my dear Hamilton," Murie assured him. "We are +friends to-day, dear old chap, just as we were at college. Surely it is +not the place of a man to poke fun at his friend?" + +The argument was apparently convincing. The Baron's secretary smoked on +in thoughtful silence, his eyes fixed upon the wall in front of him. + +"Well," he said at last, "if you promise to view the matter in all +seriousness, I'll tell you. Briefly, it's this. Of course, you've never +been to Semlin--or Zimony, as they call it in the Magyar tongue. To +understand aright, I must describe the place. In the extreme south of +Hungary, where the river Save joins the Danube, the town of Semlin +guards the frontier. Upon a steep hill, five kilometres from the town, +stands the Baron's residence, a long, rather inartistic white building, +which, however, is very luxuriously furnished. Comparatively modern, it +stands near the ruins of a great old castle of Hetzendorf, which +commands a wide sweep of the Danube. Now, amid those ruins strange +noises are sometimes heard, and it is said that upon all who hear them +falls some terrible calamity. I'm not superstitious, but I've heard +them--on three occasions! And somehow--well, somehow--I cannot get rid +of an uncanny feeling that some catastrophe is to befall me! I can't go +back to Semlin. I'm unnerved, and dare not return there." + +"Noises!" cried Walter Murie. "What are they like?" he asked quickly, +starting from his chair, and staring at his friend. + +"They seem to emanate from nowhere, and are like deep but distant +whispers. So plain they were that I could have sworn that some one was +speaking, and in English, too!" + +"Does the baron know?" + +"Yes, I told him, and he appeared greatly alarmed. Indeed, he gave me +leave of absence to come home to England." + +"Well," exclaimed Murie, "what you tell me, old chap, is most +extraordinary! Why, there is almost an exactly similar legend connected +with Glencardine!" + +"Glencardine!" cried his friend. "Glencardine Castle, in Scotland! I've +heard of that. Do you know the place?" + +"The estate marches with my father's, therefore I know it well. How +extraordinary that there should be almost exactly the same legend +concerning a Hungarian castle!" + +"Who is the owner of Glencardine?" + +"Sir Henry Heyburn, a friend of mine." + +"Heyburn!" echoed Hamilton. "Heyburn the blind man?" he gasped, grasping +the arm of his chair and staring back at his companion. "And he is your +friend? You know his daughter, then?" + +"Yes, I know Gabrielle," was Walter's reply, as there flashed across him +the recollection of that passionate letter to which he had not replied. +"Why?" + +"Is she also your friend?" + +"She certainly is." + +Hamilton was silent. He saw that he was treading dangerous ground. The +legend of Glencardine was the same as that of the old Magyar stronghold +of Hetzendorf. Gabrielle Heyburn was Murie's friend. Therefore he +resolved to say no more. + +Gabrielle Heyburn! + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +REVEALS SOMETHING TO HAMILTON + +Edgar Hamilton sat with his eyes fixed upon the dingy, inartistic, +smoke-begrimed windows of the chambers opposite. The man before him was +acquainted with Gabrielle Heyburn! For over a year he had not been in +London. He recollected the last occasion--recollected it, alas! only too +well. His thin countenance wore a puzzled, anxious expression, the +expression of a man face to face with a great difficulty. + +"Tell me, Walter," he said at last, "what kind of place is Glencardine +Castle? What kind of man is Sir Henry Heyburn?" + +"Glencardine is one of the most beautiful estates in Scotland. It lies +between Perth and Stirling. The ruins of the ancient castle, where the +great Marquis of Glencardine, who was such a figure in Scottish history, +was born, stands perched up above a deep, delightful glen; and some +little distance off stands the modern house, built in great part from +the ruins of the stronghold." + +"And there are noises heard there the same as at Hetzendorf, you say?" + +"Well, the countryfolk believe that, on certain nights, there can be +heard in the castle courtyard distinct whispering--the counsel of the +devil himself to certain conspirators who took the life of the notorious +Cardinal Setoun." + +"Has any one actually heard them?" + +"They say so--or, at any rate, several persons after declaring that they +had heard them have died quite suddenly." + +Hamilton pursed his lips. "Well," he exclaimed, "that's really most +remarkable! Practically, the same legend is current in South Hungary +regarding Hetzendorf. Strange--very strange!" + +"Very," remarked the heir to the great estate of Connachan. "But, after +all, cannot one very often trace the same legend through the folklore of +various countries? I remember I once attended a lecture upon that very +interesting subject." + +"Oh, of course. Many ancient legends have sprung from the same germ, so +that often we have practically the same fairy-story all over Europe. But +this, it seems to me, is no fairy story." + +"Well," laughed Murie, "the history of Glencardine Castle and the +historic family is so full of stirring episodes that I really don't +wonder that the ruins are believed to be the abode of something +supernatural. My father possesses some of the family papers, while Sir +Henry, when he bought Glencardine, also acquired a quantity. Only a year +ago he told me that he had had an application from a well-known +historical writer for access to them, as he was about to write a book +upon the family." + +"Then you know Sir Henry well?" + +"Very well indeed. I'm often his guest, and frequently shoot over the +place." + +"I've heard that Lady Heyburn is a very pretty woman," remarked the +other, glancing at his friend with a peculiar look. + +"Some declare her to be beautiful; but to myself, I confess, she's not +very attractive." + +"There are stories about her, eh?" Hamilton said. + +"As there are about every good-looking woman. Beauty cannot escape +unjust criticism or the scars of lying tongues." + +"People pity Sir Henry, I've heard." + +"They, of course, sympathise with him, poor old gentleman, because he's +blind. His is, indeed, a terrible affliction. Only fancy the change from +a brilliant Parliamentary career to idleness, darkness, and knitting." + +"I suppose he's very wealthy?" + +"He must be. The price he paid for Glencardine was a very heavy one; +and, besides that, he has two other places, as well as a house in Park +Street and a villa at San Remo." + +"Cotton, or steel, or soap, or some other domestic necessity, I +suppose?" + +Murie shrugged his shoulders. "Nobody knows," he answered. "The source +of Sir Henry's vast wealth is a profound mystery." + +His friend smiled, but said nothing. Walter Murie had risen to obtain +matches, therefore he did not notice the curious expression upon his +friend's face, a look which betrayed that he knew more than he intended +to tell. + +"Those noises heard in the castle puzzle me," he remarked after a few +moments. + +"At Glencardine they are known as the Whispers," Murie remarked. + +"By Jove! I'd like to hear them." + +"I don't think there'd be much chance of that, old chap," laughed the +other. "They're only heard by those doomed to an early death." + +"I may be. Who knows?" he asked gloomily. + +"Well, if I were you I wouldn't anticipate catastrophe." + +"No," said his friend in a more serious tone, "I've already heard those +at Hetzendorf, and--well, I confess they've aroused in my mind some very +uncanny apprehensions." + +"But did you really hear them? Are you sure they were not imagination? +In the night sounds always become both magnified and distorted." + +"Yes, I'm certain of what I heard. I was careful to convince myself that +it was not imagination, but actual reality." + +Walter Murie smiled dubiously. "Sir Henry scouts the idea of the +Whispers being heard at Glencardine," he said. + +"And, strangely enough, so does the Baron. He's a most matter-of-fact +man." + +"How curious that the cases are almost parallel, and yet so far apart! +The Baron has a daughter, and so has Sir Henry." + +"Gabrielle is at Glencardine, I suppose?" asked Hamilton. + +"No, she's living with a maiden aunt at an out-of-the-world village in +Northamptonshire called Woodnewton." + +"Oh, I thought she always lived at Glencardine, and acted as her +father's right hand." + +"She did until a few months ago, when----" and he paused. "Well," he +went on, "I don't know exactly what occurred, except that she left +suddenly, and has not since returned." + +"Her mother, perhaps. No girl of spirit gets on well with her +stepmother." + +"Possibly that," Walter said. He knew the truth, but had no desire to +tell even his old friend of the allegation against the girl whom he +loved. + +Hamilton noted the name of the village, and sat wondering at what the +young barrister had just told him. It had aroused suspicions within +him--strange suspicions. + +They sat together for another half-hour, and before they parted arranged +to lunch together at the Savoy in two days' time. + +Turning out of the Temple, Edgar Hamilton walked along the Strand to the +Metropole, in Northumberland Avenue, where he was staying. His mind was +full of what his friend had said--full of that curious legend of +Glencardine which coincided so strangely with that of far-off +Hetzendorf. The jostling crowd in the busy London thoroughfare he did +not see. He was away again on the hill outside the old-fashioned +Hungarian town, with the broad Danube shining in the white moonbeams. He +saw the grim walls that had for centuries withstood the brunt of battle +with the Turks, and from them came the whispering voice--the voice said +to be that of the Evil One. The Tziganes--that brown-faced race of gipsy +wanderers, the women with their bright-coloured skirts and head-dresses, +and the men with the wonderful old silver filigree buttons upon their +coats---had related to him many weird stories regarding Hetzendorf and +the meaning of those whispers. Yet none of their stories was so curious +as that which Murie had just told him. Similar sounds were actually +heard in the old castle up in the Highlands! His thoughts were wholly +absorbed in that one extraordinary fact. + +He went to the smoking-room of the hotel, and, obtaining a +railway-guide, searched it in vain. Then, ordering from a waiter a map +of England, he eagerly searched Northamptonshire and discovered the +whereabouts of Woodnewton. Therefore, that night he left London for +Oundle, and put up at the old-fashioned "Talbot." + +At ten o'clock on the following morning, after making a detour, he +alighted from a dogcart before the little inn called the Westmorland +Arms at Apethorpe, just outside the lodge-gates of Apethorpe Hall, and +making excuse to the groom that he was going for a walk, he set off at a +brisk pace over the little bridge and up the hill to Woodnewton. + +The morning was dark and gloomy, with threatening rain, and the distance +was somewhat greater than he had calculated from the map. At last, +however, he came to the entrance to the long village street, with its +church and its rows of low thatched cottages. + +A tiny inn, called the "White Lion," stood before him, therefore he +entered, and calling for some ale, commenced to chat with the old lady +who kept the place. + +After the usual conventionalities about the weather, he said, "I suppose +you don't have very many strangers in Woodnewton, eh?" + +"Not many, sir," was her reply. "We see a few people from Oundle and +Northampton in the summer--holiday folk. But that's all." + +Then, by dint of skilful questioning, he elucidated the fact that old +Miss Heyburn lived in the tiled house further up the village, and that +her niece, who lived with her, had passed along with her dog about a +quarter of an hour before, and taken the footpath towards Southwick. + +Ascertaining this, he was all anxiety to follow her; but, knowing how +sharp are village eyes upon a stranger, he was compelled to conceal his +eagerness, light another cigarette, and continue his chat. + +At last, however, he wished the woman good-day, and, strolling half-way +up the village, turned into a narrow lane which led across a farmyard to +a footpath which ran across the fields, following a brook. Eager to +overtake the girl, he sped along as quickly as possible. + +"Gabrielle Heyburn!" he ejaculated, speaking to himself. Her name was +all that escaped his lips. A dozen times that morning he had repeated +it, uttering it in a tone almost of wonder--almost of awe. + +Across several ploughed fields he went, leaving the brook, and, skirting +a high hedge to the side of a small wood, he followed the well-trodden +path for nearly half-an-hour, when, of a sudden, he emerged from a +narrow lane between two hedgerows into a large pasture. + +Before him, he saw standing together, on the brink of the river Nene, +two figures--a man and a woman. + +The girl was dressed in blue serge, and wore a white woollen +tam-o'-shanter, while the man had on a dark grey overcoat with a brown +felt hat, and nearby, with his eye upon some sheep grazing some distance +away, stood a big collie. + +Hamilton started, and drew back. + +The pair were standing together in earnest conversation, the man facing +him, the girl with her back turned. + +"What does this mean?" gasped Hamilton aloud. "What can this secret +meeting mean? Why--yes, I'm certainly not mistaken--it's Krail--Felix +Krail, by all that's amazing!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +DESCRIBES A CURIOUS CIRCUMSTANCE + +To Hamilton it was evident that the man Krail, now smartly dressed in +country tweeds, was telling the girl something which surprised her. He +was speaking quickly, making involuntary gestures which betrayed his +foreign birth, while she stood pale, surprised, and yet defiant. The +Baron's secretary was not near enough to overhear their words. Indeed, +he remained there in concealment in order to watch. + +Why had Gabrielle met Felix Krail--of all men? She was beautiful. Yes, +there could be no two opinions upon that point, Edgar decided. And yet +how strange it all was, how very remarkable, how romantic! + +The man was evidently endeavouring to impress upon the girl some plain +truths to which, at first, she refused to listen. She shrugged her +shoulders impatiently and swung her walking-stick before her in an +attempt to remain unconcerned. But from where Hamilton was standing he +could plainly detect her agitation. Whatever Krail had told her had +caused her much nervous anxiety. What could it be? + +Across the meadows, beyond the river, could be seen the lantern-tower of +old Fotheringhay church, with the mound behind where once stood the +castle where ill-fated Mary met her doom. + +And as the Baron's secretary watched, he saw that the foreigner's +attitude was gradually changing from persuasive to threatening. He was +speaking quickly, probably in French, making wild gestures with his +hands, while she had drawn back with an expression of alarm. She was +now, it seemed, frightened at the man, and to Edgar Hamilton this +increased the interest tenfold. + +Through his mind there flashed the recollection of a previous occasion +when he had seen the man now before him. He was in different garb, and +acting a very different part. But his face was still the same--a +countenance which it was impossible to forget. He was watching the +changing expression upon the girl's face. Would that he could read the +secret hidden behind those wonderful eyes! He had, quite unexpectedly, +discovered a mysterious circumstance. Why should Krail meet her by +accident at that lonely spot? + +The pair moved very slowly together along the path which, having left +the way to Southwick, ran along the very edge of the broad, winding +river towards Fotheringhay. Until they had crossed the wide pasture-land +and followed the bend of the stream Hamilton dare not emerge from his +place of concealment. They might glance back and discover him. If so, +then to watch Krail's movements further would be futile. + +He saw that, by the exercise of caution, he might perhaps learn +something of deeper interest than he imagined. So he watched until they +disappeared, and then sped along the path they had taken until he came +to a clump of bushes which afforded further cover. From where he stood, +however, he could see nothing. He could hear voices--a man's voice +raised in distinct threats, and a woman's quick, defiant response. + +He walked round the bushes quickly, trying to get sight of the pair, but +the river bent sharply at that point in such a manner that he could not +get a glimpse of them. + +Again he heard Krail speaking rapidly in French, and still again the +girl's response. Then, next instant, there was a shrill scream and a +loud splash. + +Next moment, he had darted from his hiding-place to find the girl +struggling in the water, while at the same time he caught sight of Krail +disappearing quickly around the path. Had he glanced back he could not +have seen the girl in the stream. + +At that point the bank was steep, and the stillness of the river and +absence of rushes told that it was deep. + +The girl was throwing up her hand, shrieking for help; therefore, +without a second's hesitation, Hamilton, who was a good swimmer, threw +off his coat, and, diving in, was soon at her side. + +By this time Krail had hurried on, and could obtain no glimpse of what +was in progress owing to the sharp bend of the river. + +After considerable splashing--Hamilton urging her to remain calm--he +succeeded in bringing her to land, where they both struggled up the bank +dripping wet and more or less exhausted. Some moments elapsed before +either spoke; until, indeed, Hamilton, looking straight into the girl's +face and bursting out laughing, exclaimed, "Well, I think I have the +pleasure of being acquainted with you, but I must say that we both look +like drowned rats!" + +"I look horrid!" she declared, staring at him half-dazed, putting her +hands to her dripping hair. "I know I must. But I have to thank you for +pulling me out. Only fancy, Mr. Hamilton--you!" + +"Oh, no thanks are required! What we must do is to get to some place and +get our clothes dried," he said. "Do you know this neighbourhood?" + +"Oh, yes. Straight over there, about a quarter of a mile away, is +Wyatt's farm. Mrs. Wyatt will look after us, I'm sure." And as she rose +to her feet, regarding her companion shyly, her skirts clung around her +and the water squelched from her shoes. + +"Very well," he answered cheerily. "Let's go and see what can be done +towards getting some dry kit. I'm glad you're not too frightened. A good +many girls would have fainted, and all that kind of thing." + +"I certainly should have gone under if you hadn't so fortunately come +along!" she exclaimed. "I really don't know how to thank you +sufficiently. You've actually saved my life, you know! If it were not +for you I'd have been dead by this time, for I can't swim a stroke." + +"By Jove!" he laughed, treating the whole affair as a huge joke, "how +romantic it sounds! Fancy meeting you again after all this time, and +saving your life! I suppose the papers will be full of it if they get to +know--gallant rescue, and all that kind of twaddle." + +"Well, personally, I hope the papers won't get hold of this piece of +intelligence," she said seriously, as they walked together, rather +pitiable objects, across the wide grass-fields. + +He glanced at her pale face, her hair hanging dank and wet about it, and +saw that, even under these disadvantageous conditions, she had grown +more beautiful than before. Of late he had heard of her--heard a good +deal of her--but had never dreamed that they would meet again in that +manner. + +"How did it happen?" he asked in pretence of ignorance of her +companion's presence. + +She raised her fine eyes to his for a moment, and wavered beneath his +inquiring gaze. + +"I--I--well, I really don't know," was her rather lame answer. "The bank +was very slippery, and--well, I suppose I walked too near." + +Her reply struck him as curious. Why did she attempt to shield the man +who, by his sudden flight, was self-convicted of an attempt upon her +life? + +Felix Krail was not a complete stranger to her. Why had their meeting +been a clandestine one? This, and a thousand similar queries ran through +his mind as they walked across the field in the direction of a long, +low, thatched farmhouse which stood in the distance. + +"I'm a complete stranger in these parts," Hamilton informed her. "I live +nowadays mostly abroad, away above the Danube, and am only home for a +holiday." + +"And I'm afraid you've completely spoilt your clothes," she laughed, +looking at his wet, muddy trousers and boots. + +"Well, if I have, yours also are no further good." + +"Oh, my blouse will wash, and I shall send my skirt to the cleaners, and +it will come back like new," she answered. "Women's outdoor clothing +never suffers by a wetting. We'll get Mrs. Wyatt to dry them, and then +I'll get home again to my aunt in Woodnewton. Do you know the place?" + +"I fancy I passed through it this morning. One of those long, lean +villages, with a church at the end." + +"That's it--the dullest little place in all England, I believe." + +He was struck by her charm of manner. Though bedraggled and dishevelled, +she was nevertheless delightful, and treated her sudden immersion with +careless unconcern. + +Why had Krail attempted to get rid of her in that manner? What motive +had he? + +They reached the farmhouse, where Mrs. Wyatt, a stout, ruddy-faced +woman, detecting their approach, met them upon the threshold. "Lawks, +Miss Heyburn! why, what's happened?" she asked in alarm. + +"I fell into the river, and this gentleman fished me out. That's all," +laughed the girl. "We want to dry our things, if we may." + +In a few minutes, in bedrooms upstairs, they had exchanged their wet +clothes for dry ones. Then Edgar in the farmer's Sunday suit of black, +and Gabrielle in one of Mrs. Wyatt's stuff dresses, in the big folds of +which her slim little figure was lost, met again in the spacious +farmhouse-kitchen below. + +They laughed heartily at the ridiculous figure which each presented, and +drank the glasses of hot milk which the farmer's wife pressed upon them. + +Old Miss Heyburn had been Mrs. Wyatt's mistress years ago, when she was +in service, therefore she was most solicitous after the girl's welfare, +and truth to tell looked askance at the good-looking stranger who had +accompanied her. + +Gabrielle, too, was puzzled to know why Mr. Hamilton should be there. +That he now lived abroad "beside the Danube" was all the information he +had vouchsafed regarding himself, yet from certain remarks he had +dropped she was suspicious. She recollected only too vividly the +occasion when they had met last, and what had occurred. + +They sat together on the bench outside the house, enjoying the full +sunshine, while the farmer's wife chattered on. A big fire had been made +in the kitchen, and their clothes were rapidly drying. + +Hamilton, by careful questions, endeavoured to obtain from the girl some +information concerning her dealings with the man Krail. But she was too +wary. It was evident that she had some distinct object in concealing the +fact that he had deliberately flung her into the water after that heated +altercation. + +Felix Krail! The very name caused him to clench his hands. Fortunately, +he knew the truth, therefore that dastardly attempt upon the girl's life +should not go unpunished. As he sat there chatting with her, admiring +her refinement and innate daintiness, he made a vow within himself to +seek out that cowardly fugitive and meet him face to face. + +Felix Krail! What could be his object in ridding the world of the +daughter of Sir Henry Heyburn! What would the man gain thereby? He knew +Krail too well to imagine that he ever did anything without a motive of +gain. So well did he play his cards always that the police could never +lay hands upon him. Yet his "friends," as he termed them, were among the +most dangerous men in all Europe--men who were unscrupulous, and would +hesitate at nothing in order to accomplish the _coup_ which they had +devised. + +What was the _coup_ in this particular instance? Ay, that was the +question. + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +OUTSIDE THE WINDOW + +Late on the following afternoon Gabrielle was seated at the +old-fashioned piano in her aunt's tiny drawing-room, her fingers running +idly over the keys, her thoughts wandering back to the exciting +adventure of the previous morning. Her aunt was out visiting some old +people in connection with the village clothing club, therefore she sat +gloomily amusing herself at the piano, and thinking--ever thinking. + +She had been playing almost mechanically Berger's "Amoureuse" valse and +some dreamy music from _The Merry Widow_, when she suddenly stopped and +sat back with her eyes fixed out of the window upon the cottages +opposite. + +Why was Mr. Hamilton in that neighbourhood? He had given her no further +information concerning himself. He seemed to be disinclined to talk +about his recent movements. He had sprung from nowhere just at the +critical moment when she was in such deadly peril. Then, after their +clothes had been dried, they had walked together as far as the little +bridge at the entrance to Fotheringhay. + +There he had stopped, bent gallantly over her hand, congratulated her +upon her escape, and as their ways lay in opposite directions--she back +to Woodnewton and he on to Oundle--they had parted. "I hope, Miss +Heyburn, that we may meet again one day," he had laughed cheerily as he +raised his hat, "Good-bye." Then he had turned away, and had been lost +to view round the bend of the road. + +She was safe. That man whom she had known long ago under such strange +circumstances, whom she would probably never see again, had been her +rescuer. Of this curious and romantic fact she was now thinking. + +But where was Walter? Why had he not replied to her letter? Ah! that was +the one thought which oppressed her always, sleeping and waking, day and +night. Why had he not written? Would he never write again? + +She had at first consoled herself with the thought that he was probably +on the Continent, and that her letter had not been forwarded. But as the +days went on, and no reply came, the truth became more and more apparent +that her lover--the man whom she adored and worshipped--had put her +aside, had accepted her at her own estimate as worthless. + +A thousand times she had regretted the step she had taken in writing +that cruel letter before she left Glencardine. But it was all too late. +She had tried to retract; but, alas! it was now impossible. + +Tears welled in her splendid eyes at thought of the man whom she had +loved so well. The world had, indeed, been cruel to her. Her enemies had +profited by her inexperience, and she had fallen an unhappy victim of an +unscrupulous blackguard. Yes, it was only too true. She did not try to +conceal the ugly truth from herself. Yet she had been compelled to keep +Walter in ignorance of the truth, for he loved her. + +A hardness showed at the corners of her sweet lips, and the tears rolled +slowly down her cheeks. Then, bestirring herself with an effort, her +white fingers ran over the keys again, and in her sweet, musical voice +she sang "L'Heure d'Aimer," that pretty _valse chantée_ so popular in +Paris:-- + + Voici l'heure d'aimer, l'heure des tendresses; + Dis-moi les mots très doux qui vont me griser, + Ah! prends-moi dans tes bras, fais-moi des caresses; + Je veux mourir pour revivre sous ton baiser. + Emporte-moi dans un rêve amoureux, + Bien loin sur la terre inconnue, + Pour que longtemps, même en rouvrant les yeux, + Ce rêve continue. + + Croyons, aimons, vivons un jour; + C'est si bon, mais si court! + Bonheur de vivre ici-bas diminue + Dans un moment d'amour. + +The Hour of Love! How full of burning love and sentiment! She stopped, +reflecting on the meaning of those words. + +She was not like the average miss who, parrot-like, knows only a few +French or Italian songs. Italian she loved even better than French, and +could read Dante and Petrarch in the original, while she possessed an +intimate knowledge of the poetry of Italy from the mediaeval writers +down to Carducci and D'Annunzio. + +With a sigh, she glanced around the small room, with its old-fashioned +furniture, its antimacassars of the early Victorian era, its wax flowers +under their glass dome, and its gipsy-table covered with a +hand-embroidered cloth. It was all so very dispiriting. The primness of +the whatnot decorated with pieces of treasured china, the big +gilt-framed overmantel, and the old punch-bowl filled with pot-pourri, +all spoke mutely of the thin-nosed old spinster to whom the veriest +speck of dust was an abomination. + +Sighing still again, the girl turned once more to the old-fashioned +instrument, with its faded crimson silk behind the walnut fretwork, and, +playing the plaintive melody, sang an ancient serenade: + + Di questo cor tu m'hai ferito il core + A cento colpi, piu non val mentire. + Pensa che non sopporto piu il dolore, + E se segu cosi, vado a morire. + Ti tengo nella mente a tutte l'ore, + Se lavoro, se velio, o sto a dormre ... + E mentre dormo ancora un sonno grato, + Mi trovo tutto lacrime bagnato! + +While she sang, there was a rap at the front-door, and, just as she +concluded, the prim maid entered with a letter upon a salver. + +In an instant her heart gave a bound. She recognised the handwriting. It +was Walter's. + +The moment the girl had left the room she tore open the envelope, and, +holding her breath, read what was written within. + +The words were: + +"DEAREST HEART,--Your letter came to me after several wanderings. It has +caused me to think and to wonder if, after all, I may be mistaken--if, +after all, I have misjudged you, darling. I gave you my heart, it is +true. But you spurned it--under compulsion, you say! Why under +compulsion? Who is it who compels you to act against your will and +against your better nature? I know that you love me as well and as truly +as I love you yourself. I long to see you with just as great a longing. +You are mine--mine, my own--and being mine, you must tell me the truth. + +"I forgive you, forgive you everything. But I cannot understand what +Flockart means by saying that I have spoken of you. I have not seen the +man, nor do I wish to see him. Gabrielle, do not trust him. He is your +enemy, as he is mine. He has lied to you. As grim circumstance has +forced you to treat me cruelly, let us hope that smiling fortune will be +ours at last. The world is very small. I have just met my old friend +Edgar Hamilton, who was at college with me, and who, I find, is +secretary to some wealthy foreigner, a certain Baron de Hetzendorf. I +have not seen him for years, and yet he turns up here, merry and +prosperous, after struggling for a long time with adverse circumstances. + +"But, Gabrielle, your letter has puzzled and alarmed me. The more I +think of it, the more mystifying it all becomes. I must see you, and you +must tell me the truth--the whole truth. We love each other, dear heart, +and no one shall force you to lie again to me as you did in that letter +you wrote from Glencardine. You wish to see me, darling. You shall--and +you shall tell me the truth. My dear love, _au revoir_--until we meet, +which I hope may be almost as soon as you receive this letter.--My love, +my sweetheart, I am your own WALTER." + +She sat staring at the letter. He demanded an explanation. He intended +to come there and demand it! And the explanation was one which she dared +not give. Rather that she took her own life than tell him the ghastly +circumstances. + +He had met an old chum named Hamilton. Was this the Mr. Hamilton who had +snatched her from that deadly peril? The name of Hetzendorf sounded to +be Austrian or German. How strange if Mr. Hamilton her rescuer were the +same man who had been years ago her lover's college friend! + +She passed her white hand across her brow, trying to collect her senses. + +She had longed--ah, with such an intense longing!--for a response to +that letter of hers, and here at last it had come. But what a response! +He intended her to make confession. He demanded to know the actual +truth. What could she do? How should she act? + +Holding the letter in her hand, she glanced around the little room in +utter despair. + +He loved her. His words of reassurance brought her great comfort. But he +wished to know the truth. He suspected something. By her own action in +writing those letters she had aroused suspicion against herself. She +regretted, yet what was the use of regret? Her own passionate words had +revealed to him something which he had not suspected. And he was coming +down there, to Woodnewton, to demand the truth! He might even then be on +his way! + +If he asked her point-blank, what could she reply? She dare not tell him +the truth. There were now but two roads open--either death by her own +hand or to lie to him. + +Could she tell him an untruth? No. She loved him, therefore she could +not resort to false declarations and deceit. Better--far better--would +it be that she took her own life. Better, she thought, if Mr. Hamilton +had not plunged into the river after her. If her life had ended, Walter +Murie would at least have been spared the bitter knowledge of a +disgraceful truth. Her face grew pale and her mouth hardened at the +thought. + +She loved him with all the fierce passion of her young heart. He was her +hero, her idol. Before her tear-dimmed eyes his dear, serious face rose, +a sweet memory of what had been. Tender remembrances of his fond kisses +still lingered with her. She recollected how around her waist his strong +arm would steal, and how slowly and yet irresistibly he would draw her +in his arms in silent ecstasy. + +Alas! that was all past and over. They loved each other, but she was now +face to face with what she had so long dreaded--face to face with the +inevitable. She must either confess the truth, and by so doing turn his +love to hatred, or else remain silent and face the end. + +She reread the letter still seated at the piano, her elbows resting +inertly upon the keys. Then she lifted her pale face again to the +window, gazing out blankly upon the village street, so dull, so silent, +so uninteresting. The thought of Mr. Hamilton--the man who held a secret +of hers, and who only a few hours before had rescued her from the peril +in which Felix Krail had placed her--again recurred to her. Was it not +remarkable that he, Walter's old friend, should come down into that +neighbourhood? There was some motive in his visit! What could it be? He +had spoken of Hungary, a country which had always possessed for her a +strange fascination. Was it not quite likely that, being Walter's +friend, Hamilton on his return to London would relate the exciting +incident of the river? Had he seen Krail? And, if so, did he know him? + +Those two points caused her the greatest apprehension. Suppose he had +recognised Krail! Suppose he had overheard that man's demands, and her +defiant refusal, he would surely tell Walter! + +She bit her lip, and her white fingers clenched themselves in +desperation. + +Why should all this misfortune fall upon her, to wreck her young life? +Other girls were gay, careless, and happy. They visited and motored and +flirted and danced, and went to theatres in town and to suppers +afterwards at the Carlton or Savoy, and had what they termed "a ripping +good time." But to her poor little self all pleasure was debarred. Only +the grim shadows of life were hers. + +Her mind had become filled with despair. Why had this great calamity +befallen her? Why had she, by her own action in writing to her lover, +placed herself in that terrible position from which there was no +escape--save by death? + +The recollection of the Whispers--those fatal Whispers of +Glencardine--flashed through her distressed mind. Was it actually true, +as the countryfolk declared, that death overtook all those who overheard +the counsels of the Evil One? It really seemed as though there actually +was more in the weird belief than she had acknowledged. Her father had +scouted the idea, yet old Stewart, who had personally known instances, +had declared that evil and disaster fell inevitably upon any one who +chanced to hear those voices of the night. + +The recollection of that moonlight hour among the ruins, and the +distinct voices whispering, caused a shudder to run through her. She had +heard them with her own ears, and ever since that moment nothing but +catastrophe upon catastrophe had fallen upon her. + +Yes, she had heard the Whispers, and she could not escape their evil +influence any more than those other unfortunate persons to whom death +had come so unexpectedly and swiftly. + +A shadow passed the window, causing her to start. The figure was that of +a man. She rose from the piano with a cry, and stood erect, motionless, +statuesque. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +IS ABOUT THE MAISON LÉNARD + +The big, rather severely but well-furnished room overlooked the busy +Boulevard des Capucines in Paris. In front lay the great white façade of +the Grand Hotel; below was all the bustle, life, and movement of Paris +on a bright sunny afternoon. Within the room, at a large mahogany table, +sat four grave-faced men, while a fifth stood at one of the long +windows, his back turned to his companions. + +The short, broad-shouldered man looking forth into the street, in +expectancy, was Monsieur Goslin. He had been speaking, and his words had +evidently caused some surprise, even alarm, among his companions, for +they now exchanged glances in silence. + +Three of the men were well-dressed and prosperous-looking; while the +fourth, a shrivelled old fellow, in faded clothes which seemed several +sizes too large for him, looked needy and ill-fed as he nervously chafed +his thin bony hands. + +Next moment they all began chatting in French, though from their +countenances it was plain that they were of various nationalities--one +being German, the other Italian, and the third, a sallow-faced man, had +the appearance of a Levantine. + +Goslin alone remained silent and watchful. From where he stood he could +see the people entering and leaving the Grand Hotel. He glanced +impatiently at his watch, and then paced the room, his hand thoughtfully +stroking his grey beard. Only half an hour before he had alighted at the +Gare du Nord, coming direct from far-off Glencardine, and had driven +there in an auto-cab to keep an appointment made by telegram. As he +paced the big room, with its dark-green walls, its Turkey carpet, and +sombre furniture, his companions regarded him in wonder. They +instinctively knew that he had some news of importance to impart. There +was one absentee. Until his arrival Goslin refused to say anything. + +The youngest of the four assembled at the table was the Italian, a +rather thin, keen-faced, dark-moustached man of refined appearance. +"_Madonna mia!_" he cried, raising his face to the Frenchman, "why, what +has happened? This is unusual. Besides, why should we wait? I've only +just arrived from Turin, and haven't had time to go to the hotel. Let us +get on. _Avanti!_" + +"Not until he is present," answered Goslin, speaking earnestly in +French. "I have a statement to make from Sir Henry. But I am not +permitted to make it until all are here." Then, glancing at his watch, +he added, "His train was due at Est Station at 4.58. He ought to be here +at any moment." + +The shabby old man, by birth a Pole, still sat chafing his chilly +fingers. None who saw Antoine Volkonski, as he shuffled along the +street, ever dreamed that he was head of the great financial house of +Volkonski Frères of Petersburg, whose huge loans to the Russian +Government during the war with Japan created a sensation throughout +Europe, and surely no casual observer looking at that little assembly +would ever entertain suspicion that, between them, they could +practically dictate to the money-market of Europe. + +The Italian seated next to him was the Commendatore Rudolphe Cusani, +head of the wealthy banking firm of Montemartini of Rome, which ranked +next to the Bank of Italy. Of the remaining two, one was a Greek from +Smyrna, and the other, a rather well-dressed man with longish grey hair, +Josef Frohnmeyer of Hamburg, a name also to conjure with in the +financial world. + +The impatient Italian was urging Goslin to explain why the meeting had +been so hastily summoned when, without warning, the door opened and a +tall, distinguished man, with carefully trained grey moustache, and +wearing a heavy travelling ulster, entered. + +"Ah, my dear Baron!" cried the Italian, jumping from his chair and +taking the new-comer's hand, "we were waiting for you." And he drew a +chair next to his. + +The man addressed tossed his soft felt travelling hat aside, saying, +"The 'wire' reached me at a country house outside Vienna, where I was +visiting. But I came instantly." And he seated himself, while the chair +at the head of the table was taken by the stout Frenchman. + +"Messieurs," Goslin commenced, and--speaking in French--began +apologising at being compelled to call them together so soon after their +last meeting. "The matter, however, is of such urgency," he went on, +"that this conference is absolutely necessary. I am here in Sir Henry's +place, with a statement from him--an alarming statement. Our enemies +have unfortunately triumphed." + +"What do you mean?" cried the Italian, starting to his feet. + +"Simply this. Poor Sir Henry has been the victim of treachery.--Those +papers which you, my dear Volkonski, brought to me in secret at +Glencardine a month ago have been stolen!" + +"Stolen!" gasped the shabby old man, his grey eyes starting from his +head; "stolen! _Dieu!_ Think what that means to us--to me--to my house! +They will be sold to the Ministry of Finance in Petersburg, and I shall +be ruined--ruined!" + +"Not only you will be ruined!" remarked the man from Hamburg, "but our +control of the market will be at an end." + +"And together we lose over three million roubles," said Goslin in as +quiet a voice as he could assume. + +The six men--those men who dealt in millions, men whose names, every one +of them, were as household words on the various Bourses of Europe and in +banking circles, men who lent money to reigning Sovereigns and to +States, whose interests were world-wide and whose influences were +greater than those of Kings and Ministers--looked at each other in blank +despair. + +"We have to face this fact, as Sir Henry points out to you, that at +Petersburg the Department of Finance has no love for us. We put on the +screw a little too heavily when we sold them secretly those three +Argentine cruisers. We made a mistake in not being content with smaller +profit." + +"Yes, if it had been a genuinely honest deal on their side," remarked +the Italian. "But it was not. In Russia the crowd made quite as great a +profit as we did." + +"And all three ships were sent to the bottom of the sea four months +afterwards," added Frohnmeyer with a grim laugh. + +"That isn't the question," Goslin said. "What we have now to face is the +peril of exposure. No one can, of course, allege that we have ever +resorted to any sharper practices than those of other financial groups; +but the fact of our alliance and our impregnable strength will, when it +is known, arouse the fiercest antagonism in certain circles." + +"No one suspects the secret of our alliance," the Italian ejaculated. +"It must be kept--kept at all hazards." + +Each man seated there knew that exposure of the tactics by which they +were ruling the Bourse would mean the sudden end of their great +prosperity. + +"But this is not the first occasion that documents have been stolen from +Sir Henry at Glencardine," remarked the Baron Conrad de Hetzendorf. "I +remember the last time I went there to see him he explained how he had +discovered his daughter with the safe open, and some of the papers +actually in her hands." + +"Unfortunately that is so," Goslin answered. "There is every evidence +that we owe our present peril to her initiative. She and her father are +on bad terms, and it seems more than probable that though she is no +longer at Glencardine she has somehow contrived to get hold of the +documents in question--at the instigation of her lover, we believe." + +"How do you know that the documents are stolen?" the Baron asked. + +"Because three days ago Sir Henry received an anonymous letter bearing +the postmark of 'London, E.C.,' enclosing correct copies of the papers +which our friend Volkonski brought from Petersburg, and asking what sum +he was prepared to pay to obtain repossession of the originals. On +receipt of the letter," continued Goslin, "I rushed to the safe, to find +the papers gone. The door had been unlocked and relocked by an unknown +hand." + +"And how does suspicion attach to the girl's lover?" asked the man from +Hamburg. + +"Well, he was alone in the library for half an hour about five days +before. He called to see Sir Henry while he and I were out walking +together in the park. It is believed that the girl has a key to the +safe, which she handed to her lover in order that he might secure the +papers and sell them in Russia." + +"But young Murie is the son of a wealthy man, I've heard," observed the +Baron. + +"Certainly. But at present his allowance is small," was Goslin's reply. + +"Well, what's to be done?" inquired the Italian. + +"Done?" echoed Goslin. "Nothing can be done." + +"Why?" they all asked almost in one breath. + +"Because Sir Henry has replied, refusing to treat for the return of the +papers." + +"Was that not injudicious? Why did he not allow us to discuss the affair +first?" argued the Levantine. + +"Because an immediate answer by telegraph to a post-office in Hampshire +was demanded," Goslin replied. "Remember that to Sir Henry's remarkable +foresight all our prosperity has been due. Surely we may trust in his +judicious treatment of the thief!" + +"That's all very well," protested Volkonski; "but my fortune is at +stake. If the Ministry obtains those letters they will crush and ruin +me." + +"Sir Henry is no novice," remarked the Baron. "He fights an enemy with +his own weapons. Remember that Greek deal of which the girl gained +knowledge. He actually prepared bogus contracts and correspondence for +the thief to steal. They were stolen, and, passing through a dozen +hands, were at last offered in Athens. The Ministry there laughed at the +thieves for their pains. Let us hope the same result will be now +obtained." + +"I fear not," Goslin said quietly. "The documents stolen on the former +occasion were worthless. The ones now in the hands of our enemies are +genuine." + +"But," said the Baron, "you, Goslin, went to live at Glencardine on +purpose to protect our poor blind friend from his enemies!" + +"I know," said the man addressed. "I did my best--and failed. The +footman Hill, knowing young Murie as a frequent guest at Glencardine, +the other day showed him into the library and left him there alone. It +was then, no doubt, that he opened the safe with a false key and secured +the documents." + +"Then why not apply for a warrant for his arrest?" suggested the +Commendatore Cusani. "Surely your English laws do not allow thieves to +go unpunished? In Italy we should quickly lay hands on them." + +"But we have no evidence." + +"You have no suspicion that any other man may have committed the +theft--that fellow Flockart, for instance? I don't like him," added the +Baron. "He is altogether too friendly with everybody at Glencardine." + +"I have already made full inquiries. Flockart was in Rome. He only +returned to London the day before yesterday. No. Everything points to +the girl taking revenge upon her father, who, I am compelled to admit, +has treated her with rather undue harshness. Personally, I consider +mademoiselle very charming and intelligent." + +They all admitted that her correspondence and replies to reports were +marvels of clear, concise instruction. Every man among them knew well +her neat round handwriting, yet only Goslin had ever seen her. + +The Frenchman was asked to describe both the girl and her lover. This he +did, declaring that Gabrielle and Walter were a very handsome pair. + +"Whatever may be said," remarked old Volkonski, "the girl was a most +excellent assistant to Sir Henry. But it is, of course, the old story--a +young girl's head turned by a handsome lover. Yet surely the youth is +not so poor that he became a thief of necessity. To me it seems rather +as though he stole the documents at her instigation." + +"That is exactly Sir Henry's belief," Goslin remarked with a sigh. "The +poor old fellow is beside himself with grief and fear." + +"No wonder!" remarked the Italian. "None of us would care to be betrayed +by our own daughters." + +"But cannot a trap be laid to secure the thief before he approaches the +people in Russia?" suggested the crafty Levantine. + +"Yes, yes!" cried Volkonski, his hands still clenched. "The Ministry +would give a hundred thousand roubles for them, because by their aid +they could crush me--crush you all. Remember, there are names +there--names of some of the most prominent officials in the Empire. +Think of the power of the Ministry if they held that list in their +hands!" + +"No," said the Baron in a clear, distinct voice, his grey eyes fixed +thoughtfully upon the wall opposite. "Rather think of our positions, of +the exultation of our enemies if this great combine of ours were exposed +and broken! Myself, I consider it folly that we have met here openly +to-day. This is the first time we have all met, save in secret, and how +do we know but some spy may be on the _boulevard_ outside noting who has +entered here?" + +"_Mille diavoli!_" gasped Cusani, striking the table with his fist and +sinking back into his chair. "I recollect I passed outside here a man I +know--a man who knows me. He was standing on the kerb. He saw me. His +name is Krail--Felix Krail!" + +"Is he still there?" cried the men, as with one accord they left their +chairs and dashed eagerly across to the window. + +"Krail!" cried the Russian in alarm. "Where is he?" + +"See!" the Italian pointed out, "see the man in black yonder, standing +there near the _kiosque_, smoking a cigarette. He is still watching. He +has seen us meet here!" + +"Ah!" said the Baron in a hoarse voice, "I said so. To meet openly like +this was far too great a risk. Nobody knew anything of Lénard et +Morellet of the Boulevard des Capucines except that they were +unimportant financiers. To-morrow the world will know who they really +are. Messieurs, we are the victims of a very clever ruse. We have been +so tricked that we have been actually summoned here and our identity +disclosed!" + +The five monarchs of finance stood staring at each other in absolute +silence. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +SURPRISES MR. FLOCKART + +"Well, you and your friend Felix have placed me in a very pleasant +position, haven't you?" asked Lady Heyburn of Flockart, who had just +entered the green-and-white morning-room at Park Street. "I hope now +that you're satisfied with your blunder!" + +The man addressed, in a well-cut suit of grey, a fancy vest, and +patent-leather boots, still carrying his hat and stick in his hand, +turned to her in surprise. + +"What do you mean?" he asked. "I arrived from Paris at five this +morning, and I've brought you good news." + +"Nonsense!" cried the woman, starting from her chair in anger. "You +can't deceive me any longer." + +"Krail has discovered the whole game. The syndicate held a meeting at +the office in Paris. He and I watched the arrivals. We now know who they +are, and exactly what they are doing. By Jove! we never dreamed that +your husband, blind though he is, is head of such a smart and +influential group. Why, they're the first in Europe." + +"What does that matter? Krail wants money, so do we; but even with all +your wonderful schemes we get none!" + +"Wait, my dear Winnie, remain patient, and we shall obtain plenty." + +It was indeed strange for a woman within that smart town-house, and with +her electric brougham at the door, to complain of poverty. The house had +been a centre of political activity in the days before Sir Henry met +with that terrible affliction. The room in which the pair stood had been +the scene of many a private and momentous conference, and in the big +drawing-room upstairs many a Cabinet Minister had bent over the hand of +the fair Lady Heyburn. + +Into the newly decorated room, with its original Adams ceiling, its +dead-white panelling and antique overmantel, shone the morning sun, weak +and yellow as it always is in London in the spring-time. + +Lady Heyburn, dressed in a smart walking-gown of grey, pushed her fluffy +fair hair from her brow, while upon her face was an expression which +told of combined fear and anger. + +Her visitor was surprised. After that watchful afternoon in the +Boulevard des Capucines, he had sat in a corner of the Café Terminus +listening to Krail, who rubbed his hands with delight and declared that +he now held the most powerful group in Europe in the hollow of his hand. + +For the past six years or so gigantic _coups_ had been secured by that +unassuming and apparently third-rate financial house of Lénard et +Morellet. From a struggling firm they had within a year grown into one +whose wealth seemed inexhaustible, and whose balances at the Credit +Lyonnais, the Société Générale, and the Comptoir d'Escompte were +possibly the largest of any of the customers of those great +corporations. The financial world of Europe had wondered. It was a +mystery who was behind Lénard et Morellet, the pair of steady-going, +highly respectable business men who lived in unostentatious comfort, the +former at Enghien, just outside Paris, and the latter out in the country +at Melum. The mystery was so well and so carefully preserved that not +even the bankers themselves could obtain knowledge of the truth. + +Krail had, however, after nearly two years of clever watching and +ingenious subterfuge, succeeded, by placing the group in a "hole" in +calling them together. That they met, and often, was undoubted. But +where they met, and how, was still a complete mystery. + +As Flockart had sat that previous afternoon listening to Krail's +unscrupulous and self-confident proposals, he had remained in silent +wonder at the man's audacious attitude. Nothing deterred him, nothing +daunted him. + +Flockart had returned that night from Paris, gone to his chambers in +Half-Moon Street, breakfasted, dressed, and had now called upon her +ladyship in order to impart to her the good news. Yet, instead of +welcoming him, she only treated him with resentment and scorn. He knew +the quick flash of those eyes, he had seen it before on other occasions. +This was not the first time they had quarrelled, yet he, keen-witted and +cunning, had always held her powerless to elude him, had always +compelled her to give him the sums he so constantly demanded. That +morning, however, she was distinctly resentful, distinctly defiant. + +For an instant he turned from her, biting his lip in annoyance. When +facing her again, he smiled, asking, "Tell me, Winnie, what does all +this mean?" + +"Mean!" echoed the Baronet's wife. "Mean! How can you ask me that +question? Look at me--a ruined woman! And you----" + +"Speak out!" he cried. "What has happened?" + +"You surely know what has happened. You have treated me like the cur you +are--and that is speaking plainly. You've sacrificed me in order to save +yourself." + +"From what?" + +"From exposure. To me, ruin is not a matter of days, but of hours." + +"You're speaking in enigmas. I don't understand you," he cried +impatiently. "Krail and I have at last been successful. We know now the +true source of your husband's huge income, and in order to prevent +exposure he must pay--and pay us well too." + +"Yes," she laughed hysterically. "You tell me all this after you've +blundered." + +"Blundered! How?" he asked, surprised at her demeanour. + +"What's the use of beating about the bush?" asked her ladyship. "The +girl is back at Glencardine. She knows everything, thanks to your +foolish self-confidence." + +"Back at Glencardine!" gasped Flockart. "But she dare not speak. By +heaven! if she does--then--then--" + +"And what, pray, can you do?" inquired the woman harshly. "It is I who +have to suffer, I who am crushed, humiliated, ruined, while you and your +precious friend shield yourselves behind your cloaks of honesty. You are +Sir Henry's friend. He believes you as such--you!" And she laughed the +hollow laugh of a woman who was staring death in the face. She was +haggard and drawn, and her hands trembled with nervousness which she +strove in vain to repress. Lady Heyburn was desperate. + +"He still believes in me, eh?" asked the man, thinking deeply, for his +clever brain was already active to devise some means of escape from what +appeared to be a distinctly awkward dilemma. He had never calculated the +chances of Gabrielle's return to her father's side. He had believed that +impossible. + +"I understand that my husband will hear no word against you," replied +the tall, fair-haired woman. "But when I speak he will listen, depend +upon it." + +"You dare!" he cried, turning upon her in threatening attitude. "You +dare utter a single word against me, and, by Heaven! I'll tell what I +know. The country shall ring with a scandal--the shame of your attitude +towards the girl, and a crime for which you will be arraigned, with me, +before an assize-court. Remember!" + +The woman shrank from him. Her face had blanched. She saw that he was +equally as determined as she was desperate. James Flockart always kept +his threats. He was by no means a man to trifle with. + +For a moment she was thoughtful, then she laughed defiantly in his face. +"Speak! Say what you will. But if you do, you suffer with me." + +"You say that exposure is imminent," he remarked. "How did the girl +manage to return to Glencardine?" + +"With Walter's aid. He went down to Woodnewton. What passed between them +I have no idea. I only returned the day before yesterday from the South. +All I know is that the girl is back with her father, and that he knows +much more than he ought to know." + +"Murie could not have assisted her," Flockart declared decisively. "The +old man suspects him of taking those Russian papers from the safe." + +"How do you know he hasn't cleared himself of the suspicion? He may have +done. The old man dotes upon the girl." + +"I know all that." + +"And she may have turned upon you, and told the truth about the safe +incident. That's more than likely." + +"She dare not utter a word." + +"You're far too self-confident. It is your failing." + +"And when, pray, has it failed? Tell me." + +"Never, until the present moment. Your bluff is perfect, yet there are +moments when it cannot aid you, depend upon it. She told me one night +long ago, in my own room, when she had disobeyed, defied, and annoyed +me, that she would never rest until Sir Henry knew the truth, and that +she would place before him proofs of the other affair. She has long +intended to do this; and now, thanks to your attitude of passive +inertness, she has accomplished her intentions." + +"What!" he gasped in distinct alarm, "has she told her father the +truth?" + +"A telegram I received from Sir Henry late last night makes it only too +plain that he knows something," responded the unhappy woman, staring +straight before her. "It is your fault--your fault!" she went on, +turning suddenly upon her companion again. "I warned you of the danger +long ago." + +Flockart stood motionless. The announcement which the woman had made +staggered him. + +Felix Krail had come to him in Paris, and after some hesitation, and +with some reluctance, had described how he had followed the girl along +the Nene bank and thrown her into the deepest part of the river, knowing +that she would be hampered by her skirts and that she could not swim. +"She will not trouble us further. Never fear!" he had said. "It will be +thought a case of suicide through love. Her mental depression is the +common talk of the neighbourhood." + +And yet the girl was safe and now home again at Glencardine! He +reflected upon the ugly facts of "the other affair" to which her +ladyship sometimes referred, and his face went ashen pale. + +Just at the moment when success had come to them after all their +ingenuity and all their endeavours--just at a moment when they could +demand and obtain what terms they liked from Sir Henry to preserve the +secret of the financial combine--came this catastrophe. + +"Felix was a fool to have left his work only half-done," he remarked +aloud, as though speaking to himself. + +"What work?" asked the hollow-eyed woman eagerly. But he did not satisfy +her. To explain would only increase her alarm and render her even more +desperate than she was. + +"Did I not tell you often that, from her, we had all to fear?" cried the +woman frantically. "But you would not listen. And now I am--I'm face to +face with the inevitable. Disaster is before me. No power can avert it. +The girl will have a bitter and terrible revenge." + +"No," he cried quickly, with fierce determination. "No, I'll save you, +Winnie. The girl shall not speak. I'll go up to Glencardine to-night and +face it out. You will come with me." + +"I!" gasped the shrinking woman. "Ah, no. I--I couldn't. I dare not face +him. You know too well I dare not!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +DISCLOSES A SECRET + +The grey mists were still hanging upon the hills of Glencardine, +although it was already midday, for it had rained all night, and +everywhere was damp and chilly. + +Gabrielle, in her short tweed skirt, golf-cape, and motor-cap, had +strolled, with Walter Murie at her side, from the house along the +winding path to the old castle. From the contented expression upon her +pale, refined countenance, it was plain that happiness, to a great +extent, had been restored to her. + +When he had gone to Woodnewton it was to fetch her back to Glencardine. +He had asked for an explanation, it was true; but when she had refused +one he had not pressed it. That he was puzzled, sorely puzzled, was +apparent. + +At first, Sir Henry had point-blank refused to receive his daughter. But +on hearing her appealing voice he had to some extent relented; and, +though strained relations still existed between them, yet happiness had +come to her in the knowledge that Walter's affection was still as strong +as ever. + +Young Murie had, of course, heard from his mother the story told by Lady +Heyburn concerning the offence of her stepdaughter. But he would not +believe a single word against her. + +They had been strolling slowly, and she had been speaking expressing her +heartfelt thanks for his action in taking her from that life of awful +monotony at Woodnewton. Then he, on his part, had pressed her soft hand +and repeated his promise of lifelong love. + +They had entered the old grass-grown courtyard of the castle, when +suddenly she exclaimed, "How I wish, Walter, that we might elucidate the +secret of the Whispers!" + +"It certainly would be intensely interesting if we could," he said, "The +most curious thing is that my old friend Edgar Hamilton, who is +secretary to the well-known Baron Conrad de Hetzendorf, tells me that a +similar legend is current in connection with the old château in Hungary. +He had heard the Whispers himself." + +"Most remarkable!" she exclaimed, gazing blankly around at the ponderous +walls about her. + +"My idea always has been that beneath where we are standing there must +be a chamber, for most mediaeval castles had a subterranean dungeon +beneath the courtyard." + +"Ah, if we could only find entrance to it!" cried the girl +enthusiastically. "Shall we try?" + +"Have you not often tried, and failed?" he asked laughingly. + +"Yes, but let's search again," she urged. "My strong belief is that +entrance is not to be obtained from this side, but from the glen down +below." + +"Yes, no doubt in the ages long ago the hill was much steeper than it +now is, and there were no trees or undergrowth. On that side it was +impregnable. The river, however, in receding, silted up much earth and +boulders at the bend, and has made the ascent possible." + +Together they went to a breach in the ponderous walls and peered down +into the ancient river-bed, now but a rippling burn. + +"Very well," replied Murie, "let us descend and explore." + +So they retraced their steps until, when about half-way to the house, +they left the path and went down to the bottom of the beautiful glen +until they were immediately beneath the old castle. + +The spot was remote and seldom visited. Few ever came there, for it was +approached by no path on that side of the burn, so that the keepers +always passed along the opposite bank. They had no necessity to +penetrate there. Besides, it was too near the house. + +Through the bracken and undergrowth, passing by big trees that in the +ages had sprung up from seedlings dropped by the birds or sown by the +winds, they slowly ascended to the frowning walls far above--the walls +that had withstood so many sieges and the ravages of so many centuries. + +Half a dozen times the girl's skirt became entangled in the briars, and +once she tore her cape upon some thorns. But, enjoying the adventure, +she went on, Walter going first and clearing a way for her as best he +could. + +"Nobody has ever been up here before, I'm quite certain," Gabrielle +cried, halting, breathless, for a moment. "Old Stewart, who says he +knows every inch of the estate, has never climbed here, I'm sure." + +"I don't expect he has," declared her lover. + +At last they found themselves beneath the foundations of one of the +flanking-towers of the castle walls, whereupon he suggested that if they +followed the wall right along and examined it closely they might +discover some entrance. + +"I somehow fear there will not be any door on the exposed side," he +added. + +The base of the walls was all along hidden by thick undergrowth, +therefore the examination proved extremely difficult. Nevertheless, +keenly interested in their exploration, the pair kept on struggling and +climbing until the perspiration rolled off both their faces. + +Suddenly, Walter uttered a cry of surprise. "Why, look here! This seems +like a track. People _have_ been up here after all!" + +And his companion saw that from the burn below, up through the bushes, +ran a narrow winding path, which showed little sign of frequent use. + +Walter went on before her, quickly following the path until it turned at +right-angles and ended before a low door of rough wood which filled a +small breach in the wall--a breach made, in all probability, at the last +siege in the early seventeenth century. + +"This must lead somewhere!" cried Walter excitedly; and, lifting the +roughly constructed wooden latch, he pushed the door open, disclosing a +cavernous darkness. + +A dank, earthy smell greeted their nostrils. It was certainly an uncanny +place. + +"By Jove!" cried Walter, "I wonder where this leads to?" And, taking out +his vestas, he struck one, and, holding it before him, went forward, +passing through the breach in the broken wall into a stone passage which +led to the left for a few yards and gave entrance to exactly what +Gabrielle had expected--a small, windowless stone chamber probably used +in olden days as a dungeon. + +Here they found, to their surprise, several old chairs, a rough table +formed of two deal planks upon trestles, and a couple of half-burned +candles in candlesticks which Gabrielle recognised as belonging to the +house. These were lit, and by their aid the place was thoroughly +examined. + +Upon the floor was a heap of black tinder where some papers had been +burnt weeks or perhaps months ago. There were cigar-ends lying about, +showing that whoever had been there had taken his ease. + +In a niche was a small tin box containing matches and fresh candles, +while in a corner lay an old newspaper, limp and damp, bearing a date +six months before. On the floor, too, were a number of pieces of +paper--a letter torn to fragments. + +They tried to piece it together, laying it upon the table carefully, but +were unsuccessful in discovering its import, save that it was in +Russian, from somebody in Odessa, and addressed to Sir Henry. + +Carrying the candles in their hands, they went into the narrow passage +to explore the subterranean regions of the old place. But neither way +could they proceed far, for the passage had fallen in at both ends and +was blocked by rubbish. The only exit or entrance was by that narrow +breach in the walls so cunningly concealed by the undergrowth and closed +by the rudely made door of planks nailed together. Above, in the stone +roof of the chamber, there was a wide crack running obliquely, and +through which any sound could be heard in the courtyard above. + +They remained in the narrow, low-roofed little cell for a full +half-hour, making careful examination of everything, and discussing the +probability of the Whispers heard in the courtyard above emanating from +that hidden chamber. + +For what purpose was the place used, and by whom? In all probability it +was the very chamber in which Cardinal Setoun had been treacherously +done to death. + +Though they made a most minute investigation they discovered nothing +further. Up to a certain point their explorations had been crowned by +success, yet the discovery rather tended to increase the mystery than +diminish it. + +That the Whispers were supernatural Gabrielle had all along refused to +believe. The question was, to what use that secret chamber was put? + +At last, more puzzled than ever, the pair, having extinguished the +candles, emerged again into the light of day, closing and latching the +little door after them. + +Then, following the narrow secret path, they found that it wound through +the bushes, and emerged by a circuitous way some distance along the +glen, its entrance being carefully concealed by a big lichen-covered +boulder which hid it from any one straying there by accident. So near +was it to the house, and so well concealed, that no keeper had ever +discovered it. + +"Well," declared Gabrielle, "we've certainly made a most interesting +discovery this morning. But I wonder if it really does solve the mystery +of the Whispers?" + +"Scarcely," Walter admitted. "We have yet to discover to whom the secret +of the existence of that chamber is known. No doubt the Whispers are +heard above through the crack in the roof. Therefore, at present, we had +better keep our knowledge strictly to ourselves." + +And to this the girl, of course, agreed. + +They found Sir Henry seated alone in the sunshine in one of the big +bay-windows of the drawing-room, a pathetic figure, with his blank, +bespectacled countenance turned towards the light, and his fingers +busily knitting to employ the time which, alas! hung so heavily upon his +hands. + +Truth to tell, with Flockart's influence upon him, he was not quite +convinced of the sincerity of either Gabrielle or Walter Murie. +Therefore, when they entered, and his daughter spoke to him; his +greeting was not altogether cordial. + +"Why, dear dad, how is it you're sitting here all alone? I would have +gone for a walk with you had I known." + +"I'm expecting Goslin," was the old man's snappy reply. "He left Paris +yesterday, and should certainly have been here by this time. I can't +make out why he hasn't sent me a 'wire' explaining the delay." + +"He may have lost his connection in London," Murie suggested. + +"Perhaps so," remarked the Baronet with a sigh, his fingers moving +mechanically. + +Murie could see that he was unnerved and unlike himself. He, of course, +was unaware of the great interests depending upon the theft of those +papers from his safe. But the old man was anxious to hear from Goslin +what had occurred at the urgent meeting of the secret syndicate in +Paris. + +Gabrielle was chatting gaily with her father in an endeavour to cheer +him up, when suddenly the door opened, and Flockart, still in his +travelling ulster, entered, exclaiming, "Good-morning, Sir Henry." + +"Why, my dear Flockart, this is really quite unexpected. I--I thought +you were abroad," cried the Baronet, his face brightening as he +stretched out his hand for his visitor to grasp. + +"So I have been. I only got back to town yesterday morning, and left +Euston last night." + +"Well," said Sir Henry, "I'm very glad you are here again. I've missed +you very much--very much indeed. I hope you'll make another long stay +with us at Glencardine." + +The man addressed raised his eyes to Gabrielle's. + +She looked him straight in the face, defiant and unflinching. The day of +her self-sacrifice to protect her helpless father's honour and welfare +had come. She had suffered much in silence--suffered as no other girl +would suffer; but she had tried to conceal the bitter truth. Her spirit +had been broken. She was obsessed by one fear, one idea. + +For a moment the girl held her breath. Walter saw the sudden change in +her countenance, and wondered. + +Then, with a calmness that was surprising, she turned to her father, and +in a clear, distinct voice said, "Dad, now that Mr. Flockart has +returned, I wish to tell you the truth concerning him--to warn you that +he is not your friend, but your very worst enemy!" + +"What is that you say?" cried the man accused, glaring at her. "Repeat +those words, and I will tell the whole truth about yourself--here, +before your lover!" + +The blind man frowned. He hated scenes. "Come, come," he urged, "please +do not quarrel. Gabrielle, I think, dear, your words are scarcely fair +to our friend." + +"Father," she said firmly, her face pale as death, "I repeat them. That +man standing there is as much your enemy as he is mine!" + +Flockart laughed satirically. "Then I will tell my story, and let your +father judge whether you are a worthy daughter," he said. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +IN WHICH GABRIELLE TELLS A STRANGE STORY + +Gabrielle fell back in fear. Her handsome countenance was blanched to +the lips. This man intended to speak--to tell the terrible truth--and +before her lover too! She clenched her hands and summoned all her +courage. + +Flockart laughed at her--laughed in triumph. "I think, Gabrielle," he +said, "that you should put an end to this deceit towards your poor blind +father." + +"What do you mean?" cried Walter in a fury, advancing towards Flockart. +"What has this question--whatever it is--to do with you? Is it your +place to stand between father and daughter?" + +"Yes," answered the other in cool defiance, "it is. I am Sir Henry's +friend." + +"His friend! His enemy!" + +"You are not my father's friend, Mr. Flockart," declared the girl, +noticing the look of pain upon the afflicted old gentleman's face. "You +have all along conspired against him for years, and you are actually +conspiring with Lady Heyburn at this moment." + +"You lie!" he cried. "You say this in order to shield yourself. You know +that your mother and I are aware of your crime, and have always shielded +you." + +"Crime!" gasped Walter Murie, utterly amazed. "What is this man saying, +dearest?" + +But the girl stood, blanched and rigid, her jaw set, unable to utter a +word. + +"Let me tell you briefly," Flockart went on. "Lady Heyburn and myself +have been this girl's best friends; but now I must speak openly, in +defence of the allegation she is making against me." + +"Yes, speak!" urged Sir Henry. "Speak and tell me the truth." + +"It is a painful truth, Sir Henry; would that I were not compelled to +make such a charge. Your daughter deliberately killed a young girl named +Edna Bryant. She poisoned her on account of jealousy." + +"Impossible!" cried Sir Henry, starting up. "I--I can't believe it, +Flockart. What are you saying? My daughter a murderess!" + +"Yes, I repeat my words. And not only that, but Lady Heyburn and myself +have kept her secret until--until now it is imperative that the truth +should be told to you." + +"Let me speak, dad--let me tell you----" + +"No," cried the old man, "I will hear Flockart." And, turning to his +wife's friend, he said hoarsely, "Go on. Tell me the truth." + +"The tragedy took place at a picnic, just before Gabrielle left her +school at Amiens. She placed poison in the girl's wine. Ah, it was a +terrible revenge!" + +"I am innocent!" cried the girl in despair. + +"Remember the letter which you wrote to your mother concerning her. You +told Lady Heyburn that you hated her. Do you deny writing that letter? +Because, if you do, it is still in existence." + +"I deny nothing which I have done," she answered. "You have told my +father this in order to shield yourself. You have endeavoured, as the +coward you are, to prejudice me in his eyes, just as you compelled me to +lie to him when you opened his safe and copied certain of his papers!" + +"You opened the safe!" he protested. "Why, I found you there myself!" + +"Enough!" she exclaimed quite coolly. "I know the dread charge against +me. I know too well the impossibility of clearing myself, especially in +the face of that letter I wrote to Lady Heyburn; but it was you and she +who entrapped me, and who held me in fear because of my inexperience." + +"Tell us the truth, the whole truth, darling," urged Murie, standing at +her side and taking her hand confidently in his. + +"The truth!" she said, in a strange voice as though speaking to herself. +"Yes, let me tell you! I know that it will sound extraordinary, yet I +swear to you, by the love you bear for me, Walter, that the words I am +about to utter are the actual truth." + +"I believe you," declared her lover reassuringly. + +"Which is more than anyone else will," interposed Flockart with a sneer, +but perfectly confident. It was the hour of his triumph. She had defied +him, and he therefore intended to ruin her once and for all. + +The girl was standing pale and erect, one hand grasping the back of a +chair, the other held in her lover's clasp, while her father had risen, +his expressionless face turned towards them, his hand groping until it +touched a small table upon which stood an old punch-bowl full of +sweet-smelling pot-pourri. + +"Listen, dad," she said, heedless of Flockart's remark. "Hear me before +you condemn me. I know that the charge made against me by this man is a +terrible one. God alone knows what I have suffered these last two years, +how I have prayed for deliverance from the hands of this man and his +friends. It happened a few months before I left Amiens. Lady Heyburn, +you'll recollect, rented a pretty flat in the Rue Léonce-Reynaud in +Paris. She obtained permission for me to leave school and visit her for +a few weeks." + +"I recollect perfectly," remarked her father in a low voice. + +"Well, there came many times to visit us an American girl named Bryant, +who was studying art, and who lived somewhere off the Boulevard Michel, +as well as a Frenchman named Felix Krail and an Englishman called +Hamilton." + +"Hamilton!" echoed Murie. "Was his name Edgar Hamilton--my friend?" + +"Yes, the same," was her quiet reply. Then she turned to Murie, and +said, "We all went about a great deal together, for it was summer-time, +and we made many pleasant excursions in the district. Edna Bryant was a +merry, cheerful girl, and I soon grew to be very friendly with her, +until one day Lady Heyburn, when alone with me, repeated in strict +confidence that the girl was secretly devoted to you, Walter." + +"To me!" he cried. "True, I knew a Miss Bryant long ago, but for the +past three years or so have entirely lost sight of her." + +"Lady Heyburn told me that you were very fond of the girl, and this, I +confess, aroused my intense jealousy. I believed that the girl I had +trusted so implicitly was unprincipled and fickle, and that she was +trying to secure the man whom I had loved ever since a child. I had to +return to school, and from there I wrote to Lady Heyburn, who had gone +to Dieppe, a letter saying hard things of the girl, and declaring that I +would take secret revenge--that I would kill her rather than allow +Walter to be taken from me. A month afterwards I again returned to +Paris. That man standing there"--she indicated Flockart--"was living at +the Hôtel Continental, and was a frequent visitor. He told me that it +was well known in London that Walter admired Miss Bryant, a declaration +that I admit drove me half-mad with jealousy." + +"It was a lie!" declared Walter. "I never made love to the girl. I +admired her, that's all." + +"Well," laughed Flockart, "go on. Tell us your version of the affair." + +"I am telling you the truth," she cried, boldly facing him. One day Lady +Heyburn, having arranged a cycling picnic, invited Mr. Hamilton, Mr. +Kratil, Mr. Flockart, Miss Bryant, and myself, and we had a beautiful +run to Chantilly, a distance of about forty kilometres, where we first +made a tour of the old château, and afterwards entered the cool shady +Fôret de Pontarmé. While the others went away to explore the paths in +the splendid wood I was left to spread the luncheon upon the ground, +setting before each place a half-bottle of red wine which I found in the +baskets. Then, when all was ready, I called to them, but there was no +response. They were all out of hearing. I left the spot, and searched +for a full twenty minutes or so before I discovered them. First I found +Mr. Krail and Mr. Flockart strolling together smoking, while the others +were on ahead. They had lost their way among the trees. I led them back +to the spot where luncheon was prepared; and, all of us being hungry, we +quickly sat down, chatting and laughing merrily. Of a sudden Miss Bryant +stared straight before her, dropped her glass, and threw up her arms. +'Heavens! Why--ah, my throat!' she shrieked. 'I--I'm poisoned!' + +"In an instant all was confusion. The poor girl could not breathe. She +tore at her throat, while her face became convulsed. We obtained water +for her, but it was useless, for within five minutes she was stretched +rigid upon the grass, unconscious, and a few moments later she was +still--quite dead! Ah, shall I ever forget the scene! The effect +produced upon us was appalling. All was so sudden, so tragic, so +horrible! + +"Lady Heyburn was the first to speak. 'Gabrielle,' she said, 'what have +you done? You have carried out the secret revenge which in your letter +you threatened!' I saw myself trapped. Those people had some motive in +killing the girl and placing this crime upon myself! I could not speak, +for I was too utterly dumfounded." + +"The fiends!" ejaculated Walter fiercely. + +"Then followed a hurried consultation, in which Krail showed himself +most solicitous on my behalf," the pale-faced girl went on. "Aided by +Flockart, I think, he scraped away a hole in a pit full of dead leaves, +and there the body must have been concealed just as it was. To me they +all took a solemn vow to keep what they declared to be my secret. The +bottle containing the wine from which the poor American girl had drunk +was broken and hidden, the plates and food swiftly packed up, and we at +once fled from the scene of the tragedy. With Krail wheeling the girl's +empty cycle, we reached the high road, where we all mounted and rode +back in silence to Paris. Ah, shall I ever rid myself of the memory of +that fatal afternoon?" she cried as she paused for breath. + +"Fearing that he might be noticed taking along the empty cycle, Krail +threw it into the river near Valmondois," she went on. "Arrived back at +the Rue Léonce-Reynaud, I protested that nothing had been introduced +into the wine. But they declared that, owing to my youth and the +terrible scandal it would cause if I were arrested, they would never +allow the matter to pass their lips, Mr. Hamilton, indeed, making the +extraordinary declaration that such a crime had extenuating +circumstances when love was at stake. I then saw that I had fallen the +victim of some clever conspiracy; but so utterly overcome was I by the +awful scene that I could make but faint protest. + +"Ah! think of my horrible position--accused of a crime of which I was +entirely innocent! The days slipped on, and I was sent back to Amiens, +and in due course came home here to dear old Glencardine. From that day +I have lived in constant fear, until on the night of the ball at +Connachan--you remember the evening, dad?--on that night Mr. Flockart +returned in secret, beckoned me out upon the lawn, and showed me +something which held me petrified in fear. It was a cutting from an +Edinburgh paper that evening reporting that two of the forest-guards at +Pontarmé had discovered the body of the missing Miss Bryant, and that +the French police were making active inquiries." + +"He threatened you?" asked Walter. + +"He told me to remain quiet, and that he and Lady Heyburn would do their +best to shield me. For that reason, dad," she went on, turning to the +blind man, "for that reason I feared to denounce him when I discovered +him with your safe open, for that reason I was compelled to take all the +blame and all your anger upon myself." + +The old man's brow knit. "Where is my wife?" he asked. "I must speak to +her before we go further. This is a very serious matter." + +"Lady Heyburn is still at Park Street," Flockart replied. + +"I will hear no more," declared the blind Baronet, holding up his hand, +"not another word until my wife is present." + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +INCREASES THE INTEREST + +"But, dad," cried Gabrielle, "I am telling you the truth! Cannot you +believe me, your daughter, before this man who is your enemy?" + +"Because of my affliction I am, it seems, deceived by every one," was +his hard response. + +To where they stood had come the sound of wheels upon the gravelled +drive outside, and a moment later Hill entered, announcing, "A gentleman +to see you very urgently, Sir Henry. He is from Baron de Hetzendorf." + +"From the Baron!" gasped the blind man. "I'll see him later." + +"Why, it may be Hamilton!" cried Murie; who, looking through the door, +saw his old friend in the corridor, and quickly called him in. + +As he faced Flockart he drew himself up. The attitude of them all made +it apparent to him that something unusual was in progress. + +"You've arrived at a very opportune moment, Hamilton," Murie said. "You +have met Miss Heyburn before, and also Flockart, I believe, at Lady +Heyburn's, in Paris." + +"Yes, but----" + +"Sir Henry," Walter said in a quiet tone, "this gentleman sent by the +Baron is his secretary, the same Mr. Edgar Hamilton of whom Gabrielle +has just been speaking." + +"Ah, then, perhaps he can furnish us with further facts regarding this +most extraordinary statement of my daughter's," the blind man exclaimed. + +"Gabrielle has just told her father the truth regarding a certain tragic +occurrence in the Forest of Pontarmé. Explain to us all you know, +Edgar." + +"What I know," said Hamilton, "is very quickly told. Has Miss Heyburn +mentioned the man Krail?" + +"Yes, I have told them about him," the girl answered. + +"You have, however, perhaps omitted to mention one or two small facts in +connection with the affair," he said. "Do you not remember how, on that +eventful afternoon in the forest, when searching for us, you first +encountered Krail walking with this man Flockart at some distance from +the others?" + +"Yes, I recollect." + +"And do you remember that when we returned to sit down to luncheon +Flockart insisted that I should take the seat which was afterwards +occupied by the unfortunate Miss Bryant? Do you recollect how I spread a +rug for her at that spot and preferred myself to stand? The reason of +their invitation to me to sit there I did not discover until afterwards. +That wine had been prepared for _me_, not for her." + +"For you!" the girl gasped, amazed. + +"Yes. The plot was undoubtedly this--" + +"There was no plot," protested Flockart, interrupting. "This girl killed +Edna Bryant through intense jealousy." + +"I repeat that there was a foul and ingenious plot to kill me, and to +entrap Miss Heyburn," Hamilton said. "It was, of course, clear that Miss +Heyburn was jealous of the girl, for she had written to her mother +making threats against Miss Bryant's life. Therefore, the plot was that +I should drink the fatal wine, and that Miss Gabrielle should be +declared to be the murderess, she having intended the wine to be +partaken of by the girl she hated with such deadly hatred. The marked +cordiality of Krail and Flockart that I should take that seat aroused +within me some misgivings, although I had never dreamed of this +dastardly and cowardly plot against me--not until I saw the result of +their foul handiwork." + +"It's a lie! You are trying to implicate Krail and myself! The girl is +the only guilty person. She placed the wine there!" + +"She did not!" declared Hamilton boldly. "She was not there when the +bottle was changed by Krail, but I was!" + +"If what you say is true, then you deliberately stood by and allowed the +girl to drink." + +"I watched Krail go to the spot where luncheon was laid out, but could +not see what he did. If I had done so I should have saved the girl's +life. You were a few yards off, awaiting him; therefore you knew his +intentions, and you are as guilty of that girl's tragic death as he." + +"What!" cried Flockart, his eyes glaring angrily, "do you declare, then, +that I am a murderer?" + +"You yourself are the best judge of your own guilt," answered Hamilton +meaningly. + +"I deny that Krail or myself had any hand in the affair." + +"You will have an opportunity of making that denial in a criminal court +ere long," remarked the Baron's secretary with a grim smile. + +"What," gasped Lady Heyburn's friend, his cheeks paling in an instant, +"have you been so indiscreet as to inform the police?" + +"I have--a week ago. I made a statement to M. Hamard of the Sûreté in +Paris, and they have already made a discovery which you will find of +interest and somewhat difficult to disprove." + +"And pray what is that?" + +Hamilton smiled again, saying, "No, my dear sir, the police will tell +you themselves all in due course. Remember, you and your precious friend +plotted to kill me." + +"But why, Mr. Hamilton?" inquired the blind man. "What was their +motive?" + +"A very strong one," was the reply. "I had recognised in Krail a man who +had defrauded the Baron de Hetzendorf of fifty thousand kroners, and for +whom the police were in active search, both for that and for several +other serious charges of a similar character. Krail knew this, and he +and his friend--this gentleman here--had very ingeniously resolved to +get rid of me by making it appear that Miss Gabrielle had poisoned me by +accident." + +"A lie!" declared Flockart fiercely, though his efforts to remain +imperturbed were now palpable. + +"You will be given due opportunity of disproving my allegations," +Hamilton said. "You, coward that you are, placed the guilt upon an +innocent, inexperienced girl. Why? Because, with Lady Heyburn's +connivance, you with your cunning accomplice Krail were endeavouring to +discover Sir Henry's business secrets in order, first, to operate upon +the valuable financial knowledge you would thus gain, and so make a big +_coup_; and, secondly, when you had done this, it was your intention to +expose the methods of Sir Henry and his friends. Ah! don't imagine that +you and Krail have not been very well watched of late," laughed +Hamilton. + +"Do you allege, then, that Lady Heyburn is privy to all this?" asked the +blind man in distress. + +"It is not for me to judge, sir," was Hamilton's reply. + +"I know! I know how I have been befooled!" cried the poor helpless man, +"befooled because I am blind!" + +"Not by me, Sir Henry," protested Flockart. + +"By you and by every one else," he cried angrily. "But I know the truth +at last--the truth how my poor little daughter has been used as an +instrument by you in your nefarious operations." + +"But----" + +"Hear me, I say!" went on the old man. "I ask my daughter to forgive me +for misjudging her. I now know the truth. You obtained by some means a +false key to my safe, and you copied certain documents which I had +placed there in order to entrap any who might seek to learn my secrets. +You fell into that trap, and though I confess I thought that Gabrielle +was the culprit, on Murie's behalf, I only lately found out that you and +your accomplice Krail were in Greece endeavouring to profit by knowledge +obtained from here, my private house." + +"Krail has been living in Auchterarder of late, it appears," Hamilton +remarked, "and it is evidently he who, gaining access to the house one +night recently, used his friend's false key, and obtained those +confidential Russian documents from your safe." + +"No doubt," declared Sir Henry. Then, again addressing Flockart, he +asked, "Where are those documents which you and your scoundrelly +accomplice have stolen, and for the return of which you are trying to +make me pay?" + +"I don't know anything about them," answered Flockart sullenly, his face +livid. + +"He'll know more about them when he is taken off by the two detectives +from Edinburgh who hold the extradition warrant," Hamilton remarked with +a grim smile. + +The fellow started at those words. His demeanour was that of a guilty +man. "What do you mean?" he gasped, white as death. "You--you intend to +give me into custody? If you do, I warn you that Lady Heyburn will +suffer also." + +"She, like Miss Gabrielle, has only been your tool," Hamilton declared. +"It was she who, under compulsion, has furnished you with means for +years, and whose association with you has caused something little short +of a scandal. Times without number she has tried to get rid of you and +your evil influence in this household, but you have always defied her. +Now," he said firmly, looking the other straight in the face, "you have +upon you those stolen documents which you have, by using an assumed name +and a false address, offered to sell back to their owner, Sir Henry. You +have threatened that if they are not purchased at the exorbitant price +you demand you will sell them to the Russian Ministry of Finance. That +is the way you treat your friend and benefactor, the man who is blind +and helpless! Come, give them back to Sir Henry, and at once." + +"You must ask Krail," stammered the man, now so cornered that all +further excuse or denial had become impossible. + +"That's unnecessary. I happen to know that those papers are in your +pocket at this moment, a fact which shows how watchful an eye we've been +keeping upon you of late. You have brought them here so that your friend +Krail may come to terms with Sir Henry for their repossession. He +arrived from London with you, and is at the 'Strathavon Arms' in the +village, where he stayed before, and is well known." + +"Flockart," demanded the blind man very seriously, "you have papers in +your possession which are mine. Return them to me." + +A dead silence fell. All eyes save those of Sir Henry were turned upon +the man who until that moment had stood so defiant and so full of +sarcasm. But in an instant, at mention of Krail's presence in +Auchterarder, his demeanour had suddenly changed. He was full of alarm. + +"Give them to me and leave my house," Sir Henry said, holding up his +thin white hand. + +"I--I will--on one condition: if I may be allowed to go." + +"We shall not prevent you leaving," was the Baronet's calm reply. + +The man fumbled nervously in the inner pocket of his coat, and at last +brought out a sealed and rather bulgy foolscap envelope. + +"Open it, Gabrielle, and see what is within," her father said. + +She obeyed, and in a few moments explained the various documents it +contained. + +"Then let the man go," her father said. + +"But, Sir Henry," cried Hamilton, "I object to this! Krail is down in +the village forming a plot to make you pay for the return of those +papers. He arrived from London by the same train as this man. If we +allow him to leave he will inform his accomplice, and both will escape." + +Murie had his back to the door, the long window on the opposite side of +the room being closed. + +"It was a promise of Sir Henry's," declared the unhappy adventurer. + +"Which will be observed when Krail has been brought face to face with +Sir Henry," answered Murie, at the same time calling Hill and one of the +gardeners who chanced to be working on the lawn outside. + +Then, with a firmness which showed that they were determined, Hamilton +and Murie conducted Flockart to a small upstairs room, where Hill and +the gardener, with the assistance of Stewart, who happened to have come +into the kitchen, mounted guard over him. + +His position, once the honoured guest at Glencardine, was the most +ignominious conceivable. But Sir Henry sat in gratification that at +least he had got back those documents and saved the reputation of his +friend Volkonski, as well as that of his co-partners. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +"THAT MAN'S VOICE!" + +Stokes the chauffeur had driven Murie and Hamilton in the car down to +the village, where the last-named, after a conversation with the police +inspector, went to the "Strathavon Arms," together with two constables +who happened to be off duty, in plain clothes. + +They found Krail sitting in the bar, calmly smoking, awaiting a message +from his accomplice. + +Upon Hamilton's recognition he was, after a brief argument, arrested on +the charge of theft from Glencardine, placed in the car between the two +stalwart Scotch policemen, and conveyed in triumph to the castle, much, +of course, against his will. He demanded to be taken straight to the +police station; but as Sir Henry had ordered him to be brought to +Glencardine, and as Sir Henry was a magistrate, the inspector was bound +to obey his orders. + +The man's cruel, colourless eyes seemed to contract closer as he sat in +the car with his enemy Hamilton facing him. He had never dreamed that +they would ever meet again; but, now they had, he saw that the game was +up. There was no hope of escape. He was being taken to meet Sir Henry +Heyburn, the very last man in all the world he wished to face. His +sallow countenance was drawn, his lips were thin and bloodless, and upon +his cheeks were two red spots which showed that he was now in a deadly +terror. + +Gabrielle, who had been weeping at the knees of her father, heard the +whirr of the car coming up the drive; and, springing to the window, +witnessed the arrival of the party. + +A moment later, Krail, between the two constables, and with the local +inspector standing respectfully at the rear, stood in the big, long +library into which the blind man was led by his daughter. + +When all had assembled, Sir Henry, in a clear, distinct voice, said, "I +have had you arrested and brought here in order to charge you with +stealing certain documents from my safe yonder, which you opened by +means of a duplicate key. Your accomplice Flockart has given evidence +against you; therefore, to deny it is quite needless." + +"Whatever he has said to you is lies," the foreigner replied, his accent +being the more pronounced in his excitement. "I know nothing about it." + +"If you deny that," exclaimed Hamilton quickly, "you will perhaps also +deny that it was you who secretly poisoned Miss Bryant in the Pontarmé +Forest, even though I myself saw you at the spot; and, further, that a +witness has been found who actually saw you substitute the wine-bottles. +You intended to kill me!" + +"What ridiculous nonsense you are talking!" cried the accused, who was +dressed with his habitual shabby gentility. "The girl yonder, +mademoiselle, killed Miss Bryant." + +"Then why did you make that deliberate attempt upon my life at +Fotheringhay?" demanded the girl boldly. "Had it not been for Mr. +Hamilton, who must have seen us together and guessed that you intended +foul play, I should certainly have been drowned." + +"He believed that you knew his secret, and he intended, both on his own +behalf and on Flockart's also, to close your lips," Murie said. "With +you out of the way, their attitude towards your father would have been +easier; but with you still a living witness there was always danger to +them. He thought your death would be believed to be suicide, for he knew +your despondent state of mind." + +Sir Henry stood near the window, his face sphinx-like, as though turned +to stone. + +"She fell in," was his lame excuse. + +"No, you threw me in!" declared the girl. "But I have feared you until +now, and I therefore dared not to give information against you. Ah, God +alone knows how I have suffered!" + +"You dare now, eh?" he snarled, turning quickly upon her. + +"It really does not matter what you deny or what you admit," Hamilton +remarked. "The French authorities have applied for your extradition to +France, and this evening you will be on your way to the extradition +court at Bow Street, charged with a graver offence than the burglary at +this house. The Sûreté of Paris make several interesting allegations +against you--or against Felix Gerlach, which is your real name." + +"Gerlach!" cried the blind man in a loud voice, groping forward. "Ah," +he shrieked, "then I was not mistaken when--when I thought I recognised +the voice! That man's voice! _Yes, it is his--his!_" + +In an instant Krail had sprung forward towards the blind and defenceless +man, but his captors were fortunately too quick and prevented him. Then, +at the inspector's orders, a pair of steel bracelets were quickly placed +upon his wrists. + +"Gerlach! Felix Gerlach!" repeated the blind Baronet as though to +himself, as he heard the snap of the lock upon the prisoner's wrists. + +The fellow burst out into a peal of harsh, discordant laughter. He was +endeavouring to retain a defiant attitude even then. + +"You apparently know this man, dad?" Gabrielle exclaimed in surprise. + +"Know him!" echoed her father hoarsely. "Know Felix Gerlach! Yes, I have +bitter cause to remember the man who stands there before you accused of +the crime of murder." + +Then he paused, and drew a long breath. + +"I unmasked him once, as a thief and a swindler, and he swore to be +avenged," said the Baronet in a bitter voice. "It was long ago. He came +to me in London and offered me a concession which he said he had +obtained from the Ottoman Government for the construction of a railroad +from Smyrna to the Bosphorus. The documents appeared to be all right and +in order, and after some negotiations he sold the concession to me and +received ten thousand pounds in cash of the purchase-money in advance. A +week afterwards I discovered that, though the concession had been +granted by the Minister of Public Works at the Sublime Porte, it had +been sold to the Eckmann Group in Vienna, and that the papers I held +were merely copies with forged signatures and stamps. I applied to the +police, this man was arrested in Hamburg, and brought back to London, +where he was tried, and, a previous conviction having been proved +against him, sent to penal servitude for seven years. In the dock at the +Old Bailey he swore to be avenged upon me and upon my family." + +"And he seems to have kept his word," Walter remarked. + +"When he came out of prison he found me in the zenith of my political +career," Sir Henry went on. "On that well-remembered night of my speech +at the Albert Hall I can only surmise that he went there, heard me, and +probably became fiercely resentful that he had found a man cleverer than +himself. The fact remains that he must have gone in a cab in front of my +carriage to Park Street, alighted before me, and secreted himself within +the portico. It was midnight, and the street was deserted. My carriage +stopped, I got out, and it then drove on to the mews. I was in the act +of opening the door with my latch-key when, by an unknown hand, there +was flung full into my eyes some corrosive fluid which burned terribly, +and caused me excruciating pain. I heard a man's exultant voice cry, +'There! I promised you that, and you have it!' The voice I recognised as +that of the blackguard standing before you. Since that moment," he added +in a blank, hoarse voice, "I have been totally blind!" + +"You got me seven years!" cried the foreigner with a harsh laugh, "so +think yourself very lucky that I didn't kill you." + +"You placed upon me an affliction, a perpetual darkness, that to a man +like myself is almost akin to death," replied his accuser very gravely. +"Secure from recognition, you wormed yourself into the confidence of my +wife, for you were bent upon ruining her also; and you took as partner +in your schemes that needy adventurer Flockart. I now see it all quite +plainly. Hamilton had recognised you as Gerlach, and you therefore +formed a plot to get rid of him and throw the crime upon my poor +unfortunate daughter, even though she was scarcely more than a child. In +all probability, Lady Heyburn, in telling the girl the story regarding +Murie and Miss Bryant, believed it, and if so she would also suspect my +daughter to be the actual criminal." + +"This is all utterly astounding, dad!" cried Gabrielle. "If you knew who +it was who deliberately blinded you, why didn't you prosecute him?" + +"Because there was no witness of his dastardly act, my child. And I +myself never saw him. Therefore I was compelled to remain in silence, +and allow the world to believe my affliction due to natural causes," was +his blank response. + +The sallow-faced foreigner laughed again, laughed in the face of the man +whose eyesight he had so deliberately taken. He could not speak. What +had he to say? + +"Well," remarked Hamilton, "we have at least the satisfaction of knowing +that both this man and his accomplice will stand their trial for their +heartless crime in France, and that they will meet their just punishment +according to the laws of God and of man." + +"And I," added Walter, in a voice broken by emotion, as he again took +Gabrielle's hand tenderly, "have the supreme satisfaction of knowing +that my darling is cleared of a foul, dastardly, and terrible charge." + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +CONTAINS THE CONCLUSION + +After long consultation--Krail having been removed in custody back to +the village--it was agreed that the only charges that could be +substantiated against Flockart were those of complicity in the ingenious +attempt upon Hamilton's life by which poor Miss Bryant had been +sacrificed, and also in the theft of Sir Henry's papers. + +But was it worth while? + +At the Baronet's suggestion, he was allowed freedom to leave the +upstairs room where he had been detained by the three stalwart servants; +and, without waiting to speak to any one, he had made his way down the +drive. He had, as was afterwards found, left Auchterarder Station for +London an hour later. + +The painful impression produced upon everybody by Sir Henry's statement +of what had actually occurred on the night of the great meeting at the +Albert Hall having somewhat subsided, Murie mentioned to the blind man +the legend of the Whispers, and also the curious discovery which +Gabrielle and he had made earlier in the morning. + +"Ah," laughed the old gentleman a trifle uneasily, "and so you've +discovered the truth at last, eh?" + +"The truth--no!" Murie said. "That is just what we are so very anxious +to hear from you, Sir Henry." + +"Well," he said, "you may rest your minds perfectly content that there's +nothing supernatural about them. It was to my own advantage to cause +weird reports and uncanny legends to be spread in order to preserve my +secret, the secret of the Whispers." + +"But what is the secret, Sir Henry?" asked Hamilton eagerly. "We, +curiously enough, have similar Whispers at Hetzendorf. I've heard them +myself at the old château." + +"And of course you have believed in the story which my good friend the +Baron has caused to be spread, like myself: the legend that those who +hear them die quickly and suddenly," said the old man, with a smile upon +his grey face. "Like myself, he wished to keep away all inquisitive +persons from the spot." + +"But why?" asked Murie. + +"Well, truth to tell, the reason is very simple," he answered. "As we +are speaking here in the strictest privacy, I will tell you something +which I beg that neither of you will repeat. If you do it might result +in my ruin." + +Murie, Hamilton, and Gabrielle all gave their promise. + +"Then it is this," he said. "I am head of a group of the leading +financial houses in Europe, who, remaining secret, are carrying on +business in the guise of an unimportant house in Paris. The members of +the syndicate are all of them men of enormous financial strength, +including Baron de Hetzendorf, to whom our friend Hamilton here acts as +confidential secretary. The strictest secrecy is necessary for the +success of our great undertakings, which I may add are perfectly honest +and legitimate. Yet never, unless absolutely imperative, do we entrust +documents or letters to the post. Like the house of Rothschild, we have +our confidential messengers, and hold frequent meetings, no 'deal' being +undertaken without we are all of us in full accord. Monsieur Goslin acts +as confidential messenger, and brings me the views of my partners in +Paris, Petersburg, and Vienna. To this careful concealment of our plans, +or of the fact that we are ever in touch with one another, is due the +huge successes we have made from time to time--successes which have +staggered the Bourses of the Continent and caused amazement in Wall +Street. But being unfortunately afflicted as I am, I naturally cannot +travel to meet the others, and, besides, we are compelled always to take +fresh and most elaborate precautions in order to conceal the fact that +we are in connection with each other. If that one fact ever leaked out +it would at once stultify our endeavours and weaken our position. Hence, +at intervals, two or even three of my partners travel here, and I meet +them at night in the little chamber which you, Walter, discovered +to-day, and which until the present has never been found, owing to the +weird fables I have invented regarding the Whispers. To Hetzendorf, too, +once or twice a year, perhaps, the members pay a secret visit in order +to consult the Baron, who, as you perhaps may know, unfortunately enjoys +very precarious health." + +"Then meetings of Frohnmeyer, Volkonski, and the rest were held here in +secret sometimes?" echoed Hamilton in surprise. + +"On certain occasions, when it is absolutely necessary that I should +meet them," answered Sir Henry. "They stay at the Station Hotel in +Perth, coming over to Auchterarder by the last train at night and +leaving by the first train in the morning from Crieff Junction. They +never approach the house, for fear that servants or one or other of the +guests may recognise them, but go separately along the glen and up the +path to the ruins. When we thus meet, our voices can be heard through +the crack in the roof of the chamber in the courtyard above. On such +occasions I take good care that Stewart and his men are sent on a false +alarm of poachers to another part of the estate, while I can find my way +there myself with my stick," he laughed. "The Baron, I believe, acts on +the same principle at his château in Hungary." + +"Well," declared Hamilton, "so well has the Baron kept the secret that I +have never had any suspicion until this moment. By Jove! the invention +of the Whispers was certainly a clever mode of preserving the secret, +for nobody cares deliberately to court disaster and death, especially +among a superstitious populace like the villagers here and the Hungarian +peasantry." + +Both Gabrielle and her lover expressed their astonishment, the latter +remarking how cleverly the weird legend of the Whispers invented by Sir +Henry had been made to fit historical fact. + + * * * * * + +When the eight o'clock train from Stirling stopped at Auchterarder +Station that evening, a tall, well-dressed man alighted, and inquired +his way to the police-station. The porter knew by his accent that he was +a Londoner, but did not dream that he was "a gentleman from Scotland +Yard." + +Half an hour later, after a chat with the rural inspector, the pair went +along to the cell behind the small village police-station in order that +the stranger should read over to the prisoner the warrant he had brought +with him from London--the application of the French police for the +arrest and extradition of Felix Gerlach, _alias_ Krail, _alias_ Benoist, +for the wilful murder of Edna Mary Bryant in the Forest of Pontarmé, +near Chantilly. + +The inspector had related to the London detective the dramatic scene up +at Glencardine that day, and the officer of the Criminal Investigation +Department walked along to the cell much interested to see what manner +of man was this, who was even more bold and ingenious in his criminal +methods than many with whom his profession brought him daily into +contact. He had hoped that he himself would have the credit of making +the arrest, but found that the man wanted had already been apprehended +on the charge of burglary at Glencardine. + +The inspector unlocked the door and threw it open, but next instant the +startling truth became plain. + +Felix Krail lay dead upon the flagstones. He had taken his life by +poison--probably the same poison he had placed in the wine at the fatal +picnic--rather than face his accuser and bear his just punishment. + + * * * * * + +Many months have now passed. A good deal has occurred since that +never-to-be-forgotten day, but it is all quickly related. + +James Flockart, unmasked as he has been, never dared to return. The last +heard of him was six months ago, in Honduras, where for the first time +in his life he had been compelled to work for his living, and had, three +weeks after landing, succumbed to fever. + +At Sir Henry's urgent request, his wife came back to Glencardine a week +after the tragic end of Gerlach, and was compelled to make full +confession how, under the man's sinister influence, both she and +Flockart had been forced to act. To her husband she proved beyond all +doubt that she had been in complete ignorance of the truth concerning +the affair in the Pontarmé Forest until long afterwards. She had at +first believed Gabrielle guilty of the deed, but when she learned the +truth and saw how deeply she had been implicated it was impossible for +her then to withdraw. + +With a whole-hearted generosity seldom found in men, Sir Henry, after +long reflection and a desperate struggle with himself, forgave her, and +now has the satisfaction of knowing that she prefers quiet, healthful +Glencardine to the social gaieties of Park Street, Paris, or San Remo, +while she and Gabrielle have lately become devoted to each other. + +The secret syndicate, with Sir Henry Heyburn at its head, still +operates, for no word of its existence has leaked out to either +financial circles or to the public, while the Whispers of Glencardine +are still believed in and dreaded by the whole countryside across the +Ochils. + +Edgar Hamilton, though compelled to return to the Baron, whose right +hand he is, often travels to Glencardine with confidential messages, and +documents for signature, and is, of course, an ever-welcome guest. + +The unpretentious house of Lénard et Morellet of Paris now and then +effects deals so enormous that financial circles are staggered, and the +world stands amazed. The true facts of who is actually behind that +apparently unimportant firm are, however, still rigorously and +ingeniously concealed. + +Who would ever dream that that quiet, grey-faced man with the sightless +eyes, living far away up in Scotland, passing his hours of darkness with +his old bronze seals or his knitting, was the brain which directed their +marvellously successful operations! + +The Laird of Connachan died quite suddenly about seven months ago, and +Walter Murie succeeded to the noble estate. Gabrielle--sweet, almost +child-like in her simple tastes and delightful charm, and more devoted +to Walter than ever--is now little Lady Murie, having been married in +Edinburgh a month ago. + +At the moment that I pen these final lines the pair are spending a +blissful honeymoon at the great old château of Hetzendorf, high up above +the broad-flowing Danube, the Baron having kindly vacated the place and +put it at their disposal for the summer. Happy in each other's love and +mutual trust, they spend the long blissful days in company, wandering +often hand in hand, for when Walter looks into those wonderful eyes of +hers he sees mirrored there a perfect and abiding affection such as is +indeed given few men to possess. + +Together they have in secret explored the ruins of the ancient +stronghold, and, by directions given them by the Baron, have found there +a stone chamber by no means dissimilar to that at Glencardine. + +Meanwhile, Sir Henry Heyburn, impatient for his beloved daughter to be +again near him and to assist him, passes his weary hours with his +favourite hobby; his wife, full of sympathy, bearing him company. From +her, however, he still withholds one secret, and one only--the Secret of +the House of Whispers. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF WHISPERS*** + + +******* This file should be named 10718-8.txt or 10718-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/7/1/10718 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** diff --git a/old/10718-8.zip b/old/10718-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a63b7ee --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10718-8.zip diff --git a/old/10718.txt b/old/10718.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..25cf1ad --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10718.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10576 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The House of Whispers, by William Le Queux + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + + + + +Title: The House of Whispers + +Author: William Le Queux + +Release Date: January 14, 2004 [eBook #10718] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF WHISPERS*** + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Annika Feilbach, and Project +Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders + + + +THE HOUSE OF WHISPERS + +By + +WILLIAM LE QUEUX + +1910 + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER I +THE LAIRD OF GLENCARDINE + +CHAPTER II +FROM OUT THE NIGHT + +CHAPTER III +SEALS OF DESTINY + +CHAPTER IV +SOMETHING CONCERNING JAMES FLOCKART + +CHAPTER V +THE MURIES OF CONNACHAN + +CHAPTER VI +CONCERNS GABRIELLE'S SECRET + +CHAPTER VII +CONTAINS CURIOUS CONFIDENCES + +CHAPTER VIII +CASTING THE BAIT + +CHAPTER IX +REVEALS A MYSTERIOUS BUSINESS + +CHAPTER X +DECLARES A WOMAN'S LOVE + +CHAPTER XI +CONCERNS THE WHISPERS + +CHAPTER XII +EXPLAINS SOME CURIOUS FACTS + +CHAPTER XIII +WHAT FLOCKART FORESAW + +CHAPTER XIV +CONCERNS THE CURSE OF THE CARDINAL + +CHAPTER XV +FOLLOWS FLOCKART'S FORTUNES + +CHAPTER XVI +SHOWS A GIRL'S BONDAGE + +CHAPTER XVII +DESCRIBES A FRENCHMAN'S VISIT + +CHAPTER XVIII +REVEALS THE SPY + +CHAPTER XIX +SHOWS GABRIELLE DEFIANT + +CHAPTER XX +TELLS OF FLOCKART'S TRIUMPH + +CHAPTER XXI +THROUGH THE MISTS + +CHAPTER XXII +BY THE MEDITERRANEAN + +CHAPTER XXIII +WHICH SHOWS A SHABBY FOREIGNER + +CHAPTER XXIV +"WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK" + +CHAPTER XXV +SHOWS GABRIELLE IN EXILE + +CHAPTER XXVI +THE VELVET PAW + +CHAPTER XXVII +BETRAYS THE BOND + +CHAPTER XXVIII +THE WHISPERS AGAIN + +CHAPTER XXIX +CONTAINS A FURTHER MYSTERY + +CHAPTER XXX +REVEALS SOMETHING TO HAMILTON + +CHAPTER XXXI +DESCRIBES A CURIOUS CIRCUMSTANCE + +CHAPTER XXXII +OUTSIDE THE WINDOW + +CHAPTER XXXIII +IS ABOUT THE MAISON LENARD + +CHAPTER XXXIV +SURPRISES MR. FLOCKART + +CHAPTER XXXV +DISCLOSES A SECRET + +CHAPTER XXXVI +IN WHICH GABRIELLE TELLS A STRANGE STORY + +CHAPTER XXXVII +INCREASES THE INTEREST + +CHAPTER XXXVIII +"THAT MAN'S VOICE!" + +CHAPTER XXXIX +CONTAINS THE CONCLUSION + + + + +THE HOUSE OF WHISPERS + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE LAIRD OF GLENCARDINE + +"Why, what's the matter, child? Tell me." + +"Nothing, dad--really nothing." + +"But you are breathing hard; your hand trembles; your pulse beats +quickly. There's something amiss--I'm sure there is. Now, what is it? +Come, no secrets." + +The girl, quickly snatching away her hand, answered with a forced laugh, +"How absurd you really are, dear old dad! You're always fancying +something or other." + +"Because my senses of hearing and feeling are sharper and more developed +than those of other folk perhaps," replied the grey-bearded old +gentleman, as he turned his sharp-cut, grey, but expressionless +countenance to the tall, sweet-faced girl standing beside his chair. + +No second glance was needed to realise the pitiful truth. The man seated +there in his fine library, with the summer sunset slanting across the +red carpet from the open French windows, was blind. + +Since his daughter Gabrielle had been a pretty, prattling child of nine, +nursing her dolly, he had never looked upon her fair face. But he was +ever as devoted to her as she to him. + +Surely his was a sad and lonely life. Within the last fifteen years or +so great wealth had come to him; but, alas! he was unable to enjoy it. +Until eleven years ago he had been a prominent figure in politics and in +society in London. He had sat in the House for one of the divisions of +Hampshire, was a member of the Carlton, and one year he found his name +among the Birthday Honours with a K.C.M.G. For him everybody predicted a +brilliant future. The Press gave prominence to his speeches, and to his +house in Park Street came Cabinet Ministers and most of the well-known +men of his party. Indeed, it was an open secret in a certain circle that +he had been promised a seat in the Cabinet in the near future. + +Then, at the very moment of his popularity, a terrible tragedy had +occurred. He was on the platform of the Albert Hall addressing a great +meeting at which the Prime Minister was the principal speaker. His +speech was a brilliant one, and the applause had been vociferous. Full +of satisfaction, he drove home that night to Park Street; but next +morning the report spread that his brilliant political career had ended. +He had suddenly been stricken by blindness. + +In political circles and in the clubs the greatest consternation was +caused, and some strange gossip became rife. + +It was whispered in certain quarters that the affliction was not +produced by natural causes. In fact, it was a mystery, and one that had +never been solved. The first oculists of Europe had peered into and +tested his eyes, but all to no purpose. The sight had gone for ever. + +Therefore, full of bitter regrets at being thus compelled to renounce +the stress and storm of political life which he loved so well, Sir Henry +Heyburn had gone into strict retirement at Glencardine, his beautiful +old Perthshire home, visiting London but very seldom. + +He was essentially a man of mystery. Even in the days of his universal +popularity the source of his vast wealth was unknown. His father, the +tenth Baronet, had been sadly impoverished by the depreciation of +agricultural property in Lincolnshire, and had ended his days in the +genteel quietude of the Albany. But Sir Henry, without betraying to the +world his methods, had in fifteen years amassed a fortune which people +guessed must be considerably over a million sterling. + +From a life of strenuous activity he had, in one single hour, been +doomed to one of loneliness and inactivity. His friends sympathised, as +indeed the whole British public had done; but in a month the tragic +affair and its attendant mysterious gossip had been forgotten, as in +truth had the very name of Sir Henry Heyburn, whom the Prime Minister, +though his political opponent, had one night designated in the House as +"one of the most brilliant and talented young men who has ever sat upon +the Opposition benches." + +In his declining years the life of this man was a pitiful tragedy, his +filmy eyes sightless, his thin white fingers ever eager and nervous, his +hours full of deep thought and silent immobility. To him, what was the +benefit of that beautiful Perthshire castle which he had purchased from +Lord Strathavon a year before his compulsory retirement? What was the +use of the old ancestral manor near Caistor in Lincolnshire, or the +town-house in Park Street, the snug hunting-box at Melton, or the +beautiful palm-shaded, flower-embowered villa overlooking the blue +southern sea at San Remo? He remembered them all. He had misty visions +of their splendour and their luxury; but since his blindness he had +seldom, if ever, entered them. That big library up in Scotland in which +he now sat was the room he preferred; and with his daughter Gabrielle to +bear him company, to smooth his brow with her soft hand, to chatter and +to gossip, he wished for no other companion. His life was of the past, a +meteor that had flashed and had vanished for ever. + +"Tell me, child, what is troubling you?" he was asking in a calm, kind +voice, as he still held the girl's hand in his. The sweet scent of the +roses from the garden beyond filled the room. + +A smart footman in livery opened the door at that moment, asking, +"Stokes has just returned with the car from Perth, Sir Henry, and asks +if you want him further at present." + +"No," replied his blind master. "Has he brought back her ladyship?" + +"Yes, Sir Henry," replied the man. "I believe he is taking her to the +ball over at Connachan to-night." + +"Oh, yes, of course. How foolish I am! I quite forgot," said the Baronet +with a slight sigh. "Very well, Hill." + +And the clean-shaven young man, with his bright buttons bearing the +chevron _gules_ betwixt three boars' heads erased _sable_, of the +Heyburns, bowed and withdrew. + +"I had quite forgotten the ball at Connachan, dear," exclaimed her +father, stretching out his thin white hand in search of hers again. "Of +course you are going?" + +"No, dad; I'm staying at home with you." + +"Staying at home!" echoed Sir Henry. "Why, my dear Gabrielle, the first +year you're out, and missing the best ball in the county! Certainly not. +I'm all right. I shan't be lonely. A little box came this morning from +the Professor, didn't it?" + +"Yes, dad." + +"Then I shall be able to spend the evening very well alone. The +Professor has sent me what he promised the other day." + +"I've decided not to go," was the girl's firm reply. + +"I fear, dear, your mother will be very annoyed if you refuse," he +remarked. + +"I shall risk that, dear old dad, and stay with you to-night. Please +allow me," she added persuasively, taking his hand in hers and bending +till her red lips touched his white brow. "You have quite a lot to do, +remember. A big packet of papers came from Paris this morning. I must +read them over to you." + +"But your mother, my dear! Your absence will be commented upon. People +will gossip, you know." + +"There is but one person I care for, dad--yourself," laughed the girl +lightly. + +"Perhaps you're disappointed over a new frock or something, eh?" + +"Not at all. My frock came from town the day before yesterday. Elise +declares it suits me admirably, and she's very hard to please, you know. +It's white, trimmed with tiny roses." + +"A perfect dream, I expect," remarked the blind man, smiling. "I wish I +could see you in it, dear. I often wonder what you are like, now that +you've grown to be a woman." + +"I'm like what I always have been, dad, I suppose," she laughed. + +"Yes, yes," he sighed, in pretence of being troubled. "Wilful as always. +And--and," he faltered a moment later, "I often hear your dear dead +mother's voice in yours." Then he was silent, and by the deep lines in +his brow she knew that he was thinking. + +Outside, in the high elms beyond the level, well-kept lawn, with its +grey old sundial, the homecoming rooks were cawing prior to settling +down for the night. No other sound broke the stillness of that quiet +sunset hour save the solemn ticking of the long, old-fashioned clock at +the farther end of the big, book-lined room, with its wide fireplace, +great overmantel of carved stone with emblazoned arms, and its three +long windows of old stained glass which gave it a somewhat +ecclesiastical aspect. + +"Tell me, child," repeated Sir Henry at length, "what was it that upset +you just now?" + +"Nothing, dad--unless--well, perhaps it's the heat. I felt rather unwell +when I went out for my ride this morning," she answered with a frantic +attempt at excuse. + +The blind man was well aware that her reply was but a subterfuge. +Little, however, did he dream the cause. Little did he know that a dark +shadow had fallen upon the young girl's life--a shadow of evil. + +"Gabrielle," he said in a low, intense voice, "why aren't you open and +frank with me as you once used to be? Remember that you, my daughter, +are my only friend!" + +Slim, dainty, and small-waisted, with a sweet, dimpled face, and blue +eyes large and clear like a child's, a white throat, a well-poised head, +and light-chestnut hair dressed low with a large black bow, she +presented the picture of happy, careless youth, her features soft and +refined, her half-bare arms well moulded, and hands delicate and white. +She wore only one ornament--upon her left hand was a small signet-ring +with her monogram engraved, a gift from one of her governesses when a +child, and now worn upon the little finger. + +That face was strikingly beautiful, it had been remarked more than once +in London; but any admiration only called forth the covert sneers of +Lady Heyburn. + +"Why don't you tell me?" urged the blind man. "Why don't you tell me the +truth?" he protested. + +Her countenance changed when she heard his words. In her blue eyes was a +look of abject fear. Her left hand was tightly clenched and her mouth +set hard, as though in resolution. + +"I really don't know what you mean, dad," she responded with a hollow +laugh. "You have such strange fancies nowadays." + +"Strange fancies, child!" echoed the afflicted man, lifting his grey, +expressionless face to hers. "A blind man has always vague, suspicious, +and black forebodings engendered by the darkness and loneliness of his +life. I am no exception," he sighed. "I think ever of the +might-have-beens." + +"No, dear," exclaimed the girl, bending until her lips touched his white +brow softly. "Forget it all, dear old dad. Surely your days here, with +me, quiet and healthful in this beautiful Perthshire, are better, better +by far, than if you had been a politician up in London, ever struggling, +ever speaking, and ever bearing the long hours at the House and the +eternal stress of Parliamentary life?" + +"Yes, yes," he said, just a trifle impatiently. "It is not that. I don't +regret that I had to retire, except--well, except for your sake perhaps, +dear." + +"For my sake! How?" + +"Because, had I been a member of this Cabinet--which some of my friends +predicted--you would have had the chance of a good marriage. But buried +as you are down here instead, what chances have you?" + +"I want no chance, dad," replied the girl. "I shall never marry." + +A painful thought crossed the old man's mind, being mirrored upon his +brow by the deep lines which puckered there for a few brief moments. +"Well," he exclaimed, smiling, "that's surely no reason why you should +not go to the ball at Connachan to-night." + +"I have my duty to perform, dad; my duty is to remain with you," she +said decisively. "You know you have quite a lot to do, and when your +mother has gone we'll spend an hour or two here at work." + +"I hear that Walter Murie is at home again at Connachan. Hill told me +this morning," remarked her father. + +"So I heard also," answered the girl. + +"And yet you are not going to the ball, Gabrielle, eh?" laughed the old +man mischievously. + +"Now come, dad," the girl exclaimed, colouring slightly, "you're really +too bad! I thought you had promised me not to mention him again." + +"So I did, dear; I--I quite forgot," replied Sir Henry apologetically. +"Forgive me. You are now your own mistress. If you prefer to stay away +from Connachan, then do so by all means. Only, make a proper excuse to +your mother; otherwise she will be annoyed." + +"I think not, dear," his daughter replied in a meaning tone. "If I +remain at home she'll be rather glad than otherwise." + +"Why?" inquired the old man quickly. + +The girl hesitated. She saw instantly that her remark was an unfortunate +one. "Well," she said rather lamely, "because my absence will relieve +her of the responsibility of acting as chaperon." + +What else could she say? How could she tell her father--the kindly but +afflicted man to whom she was devoted--the bitter truth? His lonely, +dismal life was surely sufficiently hard to bear without the extra +burden of suspicion, of enforced inactivity, of fierce hatred, and of +bitter regret. So she slowly disengaged her hand, kissed him again, and +with an excuse that she had the menus to write for the dinner-table, +went out, leaving him alone. + +When the door had closed a great sigh sounded through the long, +book-lined room, a sigh that ended in a sob. + +The old man had leaned his chin upon his hands, and his sightless eyes +were filled with tears. "Is it the truth?" he murmured to himself. "Is +it really the truth?" + + + +CHAPTER II + +FROM OUT THE NIGHT + +There are few of the Perthshire castles that more plainly declare their +feudal origin and exhibit traces of obsolete power than does the great +gaunt pile of ruins known as Glencardine. Its situation is both +picturesque and imposing, and the stern aspect of the two square +baronial towers which face the south, perched on a sheer precipice that +descends to the Ruthven Water deep below, shows that the castle was once +the residence of a predatory chief in the days before its association +with the great Montrose. + +Two miles from the long, straggling village of Auchterarder, in the +centre of a fine, well-wooded, well-kept estate, the great ruined castle +stands a silent monument of warlike days long since forgotten. There, +within those walls, now overgrown with ivy and weeds, and where big +trees grow in the centre of what was once the great paved courtyard, +Montrose schemed and plotted, and, according to tradition, kept certain +of his enemies in the dungeons below. + +In the twelfth century the aspect of the deep glen was very different +from what it is to-day. In those days the Ruthven was a broad river, +flowing swiftly down to the Earn, and forming, by reason of a moat, an +effective barrier against attack. To-day, however, the river has +diminished into a mere burn meandering through a beautiful wooded glen +three hundred feet below, a glen the charms of which are well known +throughout the whole of Scotland, and where in summer tourists from +England endeavour to explore, but are warned back by Stewart, Sir +Henry's Highland keeper. + +A quarter of a mile from the great historic ruin is the modern castle, +built mainly of stone from the ancient structure early in the eighteenth +century, with oak-panelled rooms, many quaint gables, stained glass, and +long, echoing corridors--a residence well adapted for entertaining on a +lavish scale, the front overlooking the beautiful glen, and the back +with level lawns and stretch of undulating park, well wooded and full of +picturesque beauty. + +The family traditions and history of the old place and its owners had +induced Sir Henry Heyburn, himself a Fellow of the Society of +Antiquaries, to purchase it from Lord Strathavon, into whose possession +it had passed some forty years previously. + +History showed that William de Graeme or Graham, who settled in Scotland +in the twelfth century, became Lord of Glencardine, and the great castle +was built by his son. They were indeed a noble race, as their biographer +has explained. Ever fearless in their country's cause, they sneered at +the mandates from impregnable Stirling, and were loyal in every +generation. + +Glencardine was a stronghold feared by all the surrounding nobles, and +its men were full of valour and bravery. One story of them is perhaps +worth the telling. In the year 1490 the all-powerful Abbot of Inchaffray +issued an order for the collection of the teinds of the Killearns' lands +possessed by the Grahams of Glencardine in the parish of Monzievaird, of +which he was titular. The order was rigorously executed, the teinds +being exacted by force. + +Lord Killearn of Dunning Castle was from home at the time; but in his +absence his eldest son, William, Master of Dunning, called out a number +of his clansmen, and marched towards Glencardine for the purpose of +putting a stop to the abbot's proceedings. The Grahams of Glencardine, +having been apprised of their neighbour's intention, mustered in strong +force, and marched to meet him. The opposing forces encountered each +other at the north side of Knock Mary, about two miles to the south-west +of Crieff, while a number of the clan M'Robbie, who lived beside the +Loch of Balloch, marched up the south side of the hill, halting at the +top to watch the progress of the combat. The fight began with great fury +on both sides. The Glencardine men, however, began to get the upper hand +and drive their opponents back, when the M'Robbies rushed down the hill +to the succour of the Killearns. The tables were now turned. The Grahams +were unable to maintain their ground against the combined forces which +they had now to face, and fled towards Glencardine, taking refuge in the +Kirk of Monzievaird. The Killearns had no desire to follow up their +success any farther, but at this stage they were joined by Duncan +Campbell of Dunstaffnage, who had come across from Argyllshire to avenge +the death of his father-in-law, Robert of Monzie, who, along with his +two sons, had a short time before been killed by the Lord of +Glencardine. + +An arrow shot from the church fatally wounded one of Campbell's men, and +so enraged were the besiegers at this that they set fire to the +heather-thatched building. Of the one hundred and sixty human beings who +are supposed to have been in the church, only one young lad escaped, and +this was effected by the help of one of the Killearns, who caught the +boy in his arms as he leaped out of the flames. The Killearns did not go +unpunished for their barbarous deed. Their leader, with several of his +chief retainers, was afterwards beheaded at Stirling, and an assessment +was imposed on the Killearns for behoof of the wives and children of the +Grahams who had perished by their hands. + +The Killearn by whose aid the young Graham had been saved was forced to +flee to Ireland, but he afterwards returned to Scotland, where he and +his attendants were known by the name of "Killearn Eirinich" (or +Ernoch), meaning Killearn of Ireland. The estate which he held, and +which is situated near Comrie, still bears that name. The site of the +Kirk of Monzievaird is now occupied by the mausoleum of the family of +Murray of Ochtertyre, which was erected in 1809. When the foundations +were being excavated a large quantity of charred bones and wood was +found. + +The history of Scotland is full of references to the doings at +Glencardine, the fine home of the great Lord Glencardine, and of events, +both in the original stronghold and in the present mansion, which have +had important bearings upon the welfare of the country. + +In the autumn of 1825 the celebrated poetess Baroness Nairne, who had +been born at Gask, a few miles away, visited Glencardine and spent +several weeks in the pleasantest manner. Within those gaunt ruins of the +old castle she first became inspired to write her celebrated "Castell +Gloom," near Dollar: + + Oh Castell Gloom! thy strength is gone, + The green grass o'er thee growin'; + On Hill of Care thou art alone, + The Sorrow round thee flowin'. + + Oh Castell Gloom! on thy fair wa's + Nae banners now are streamin'; + The howlit flits amang thy ha's, + And wild birds there are screamin'. + + Oh, mourn the woe! oh, mourn the crime + Frae civil war that flows! + Oh, mourn, Argyll, thy fallen line, + And mourn the great Montrose! + + The lofty Ochils bright did glow, + Though sleepin' was the sun; + But mornin's light did sadly show + What ragin' flames had done! + Oh, mirk, mirk was the misty cloud + That hung o'er thy wild wood! + Thou wert like beauty in a shroud, + And all was solitude. + +A volume, indeed, could be written upon the history, traditions, and +superstitions of Glencardine Castle, a subject in which its blind owner +took the keenest possible interest. But, tragedy of it all, he had never +seen the lovely old domain he had acquired! Only by Gabrielle's +descriptions of it, as she led him so often across the woods, down by +the babbling burn, or over the great ivy-covered ruins, did he know and +love it. + +Every shepherd of the Ochils knows of the Lady of Glencardine who, on +rare occasions, had been seen dressed in green flitting before the +modern mansion, and who was said to be the spectre of the young Lady +Jane Glencardine, who in 1710 was foully drowned in the Earn by her +jealous lover, the Lord of Glamis, and whose body was never recovered. +Her appearance always boded ill-fortune to the family in residence. + +Glencardine was scarcely ever without guests. Lady Heyburn, a shallow +and vain woman many years younger than her husband, was always +surrounded by her own friends. She hated the country, and more +especially what she declared to be the "deadly dullness" of her +Perthshire home. That moment was no exception. There were half-a-dozen +guests staying in the house, but neither Gabrielle nor her father took +the slightest interest in any of them. They had been, of course, invited +to the ball at Connachan, and at dinner had expressed surprise when +their host's pretty daughter, the belle of the county, had declared that +she was not going. + +"Oh, Gabrielle is really such a wayward child!" declared her ladyship to +old Colonel Burton at her side. "If she has decided not to go, no power +on earth will persuade her." + +"I'm not feeling at all well, mother," the girl responded from the +farther end of the table. "You'll make nice excuses for me, won't you?" + +"I think it's simply ridiculous!" declared the Baronet's wife. "Your +first season, too!" + +Gabrielle glanced round the table, coloured slightly, but said nothing. +The guests knew too well that in the Glencardine household there had +always been, and always would be, slightly strained relations between +her ladyship and her stepdaughter. + +For an hour after dinner all was bustle and excitement; then, in the +covered wagonette, the gay party drove away, while Gabrielle, standing +at the door, shouted after them a merry adieu. + +It was a bright, clear, moonlit night, so beautiful indeed that, +twisting a shawl about her shoulders, she went to her father's den, +where he usually smoked alone, and, taking his arm, led him out for a +walk into the park over that gravelled drive where, upon such nights as +that, 'twas said that the unfortunate Lady Jane could be seen. + +When alone, the sightless man could find his way quite well with the aid +of his stick. He knew every inch of his domain. Indeed, he could descend +from the castle by the winding path that led deep into the glen, and +across the narrow foot-bridges of the rushing Ruthven Water, or he could +traverse the most intricate paths through the woods by means of certain +landmarks which only he himself knew. He was ever fond of wandering +about the estate alone, and often took solitary walks on bright nights +with his stout stick tapping before him. On rare occasions, however, +when, in the absence of her ladyship, he enjoyed the company of pretty +Gabrielle, they would wander in the park arm-in-arm, chatting and +exchanging confidences. + +The departure of their house-party had lifted a heavy weight from both +their hearts. It would be dawn before they returned. She loved her +father, and was never happier than when describing to him things--the +smallest objects sometimes--which he himself could not see. + +As they strolled on beneath the shadows of the tall elms, the stillness +of the night was broken only by the quick scurry of a rabbit into the +tall bracken or the harsh cry of some night-bird startled by their +approach. + +Before them, standing black against the night-sky, rose the quaint, +ponderous, but broken walls of the ancient stronghold, where an owl +hooted weirdly in the ivy, and where the whispering of the waters rose +from the deep below. + +"It's a pity, dear, that you didn't go to the dance," the old man was +saying, her arm held within his own. "You've annoyed your mother, I +fear." + +"Mother is quite happy with her guests, dad; while I am quite happy with +you," she replied softly. "Therefore, why discuss it?" + +"But surely it is not very entertaining for you to remain here with a +man who is blind. Remember, you are young, and these golden days of +youth will very soon pass." + +"Why, you always entertain and instruct me, dad," she declared; "from +you I've learnt so much archaeology and so much about mediaeval seals +that I believe I am qualified to become a Fellow of the Society of +Antiquaries, if women were admitted to fellowship." + +"They will be one day, my dear, if the Suffragettes are allowed their +own way," he laughed. + +And then, during the full hour they strolled together, their +conversation mostly consisted of questions asked by her father +concerning some improvements being made in one of the farms which she +had visited on the previous day, and her description of what had been +done. + +The stable-clock had struck half-past ten on its musical chimes before +they re-entered the big hall, and, being relieved by Hill of the wraps, +passed together into the library, where, from a locked cabinet in a +corner, Gabrielle took a number of business papers and placed them upon +the writing-table before her father. + +"No," he said, running his thin white hands over them, "not business +to-night, dear, but pleasure. Where is that box from the Professor?" + +"It's here, dad. Shall I open it?" + +"Yes," he replied. "That dear old fellow never forgets his old friend. +Never a seal finds its way into the collection at Cambridge but he first +sends it to me for examination before it is catalogued. He knows what +pleasure it is to me to decipher them and make out their +history--almost, alas! the only pleasure left to me, except you, my +darling." + +"Professor Moyes adopts your opinion always, dad. He knows, as every +other antiquary knows, that you are the greatest living authority on the +subject which you have made a lifetime study--that of the bronze seals +of the Middle Ages." + +"Ah!" sighed the old man, "if I could only write my great book! It is +the pleasure debarred me. Years ago I started to collect material; but +my affliction came, and now I can only feel the matrices and picture +them in my mind. I see through your eyes, dear Gabrielle. To me, the +world I loved so much is only a blank darkness, with your dear voice +sounding out of it--the only voice, my child, that is music to my ears." + +The girl said nothing. She only glanced at the sad, expressionless face, +and, cutting the string of the small packet, displayed three bronze +seals--two oval, about two inches long, and the third round, about one +inch in diameter, and each with a small kind of handle on the reverse. +With them were sulphur-casts or impressions taken from them, ready to be +placed in the museum at Cambridge. + +The old man's nervous fingers travelled over the surfaces quickly, an +expression of complete satisfaction in his face. + +"Have you the magnifying-glass, dear? Tell me what you make of the +inscriptions," he said, at the same time carefully feeling the curious +mediaeval lettering of one of the casts. + +At the same instant she started, rose quickly from her chair, and held +her breath. + +A man, tall, dark-faced, and wearing a thin black overcoat, had entered +noiselessly from the lawn by the open window, and stood there, with his +finger upon his lips, indicating silence. Then he pointed outside, with +a commanding gesture that she should follow. + +Her eyes met his in a glance of fierce resentment, and instinctively she +placed her hand upon her breast, as though to stay the beating of her +heart. + +Again he pointed in silent authority, and she as though held in some +mysterious thraldom, made excuse to the blind man, and, rising, followed +in his noiseless footsteps. + + + +CHAPTER III + +SEALS OF DESTINY + +Ten minutes later she returned, panting, her face pale and haggard, her +mouth hard-set. For a moment she stood in silence upon the threshold of +the open doors leading to the grounds, her hand pressed to her breast in +a strenuous endeavour to calm herself. She feared that her father might +detect her agitation, for he was so quick in discovering in her the +slightest unusual emotion. She glanced behind her with an expression +full of fear, as though dreading the reappearance of that man who had +compelled her to follow him out into the night. Then she looked at her +father, who, still seated motionless with his back to her, was busy with +his fingers upon something on the blotting-pad before him. + +In that brief absence her countenance had entirely changed. She was pale +to the lips, with drawn brows, while about her mouth played a hard, +bitter expression, as though her mind were bent upon some desperate +resolve. + +That the man who had come there by stealth was no stranger was evident; +yet that between them was some deep-rooted enmity was equally apparent. +Nevertheless, he held her irresistibly within his toils. His +clean-shaven face was a distinctly evil one. His eyes were set too close +together, and in his physiognomy was something unscrupulous and +relentless. He was not the man for a woman to trust. + +She stepped back from the threshold, and for a few seconds halted +outside, her ears strained to catch any sound. Then, as though +reassured, she pushed the chestnut hair from her hot, fevered brow, held +her breath with strenuous effort, and, re-entering the library, advanced +to her father's side. + +"I wondered where you had gone, dear," he said in his low, calm voice, +as he detected her presence. "I hoped you would not leave me for long, +for it is not very often we enjoy an evening so entirely alone as +to-night." + +"Leave you, dear old dad! Why, of course not!" She laughed gaily, as +though nothing had occurred to disturb her peace of mind. "We were just +about to look at those seals Professor Moyes sent you to-day, weren't +we? Here they are;" and she placed them before the helpless and +afflicted man, endeavouring to remain undisturbed, and taking a chair at +his side, as was her habit when they sat together. + +"Yes," he said cheerfully. "Let us see what they are." + +The first of the yellow sulphur-casts which he examined bore the +full-length figure of an abbot, with mitre and crosier, in the act of +giving his blessing. Behind him were three circular towers with pointed +roofs surmounted by crosses, while around, in bold early Gothic letters, +ran the inscription + ++ S. BENEDITI . ABBATIS . SANTI . AMBROSII . D'RANCIA + + +Slowly and with great care his fingers travelled over the raised letters +and design of the oval cast. Then, having also examined the battered old +bronze matrix, he said, "A most excellent specimen, and in first-class +preservation, too! I wonder where it has been found? In Italy, without +doubt." + +"What do you make it out to be, dad?" asked the girl, seated in the +chair at his side and as interested in the little antiquity as he was +himself. + +"Thirteenth century, my dear--early thirteenth century," he declared +without hesitation. "Genuine, quite genuine, no doubt. The matrix shows +signs of considerable wear. Is there much patina upon it?" he asked. + +She turned it over, displaying that thick green corrosion which bronze +acquires only by great age. + +"Yes, quite a lot, dad. The raised portion at the back is pierced by a +hole very much worn." + +"Worn by the thong by which it was attached to the girdle of successive +abbots through centuries," he declared. "From its inscription, it is the +seal of the Abbot Benedict of the Monastery of St. Ambrose, of Rancia, +in Lombardy. Let me think, now. We should find the history of that house +probably in Sassolini's _Memorials_. Will you get it down, dear?--top +shelf of the fifth case, on the left." + +Though blind, he knew just where he could put his hand upon all his most +cherished volumes, and woe betide any one who put a volume back in its +wrong place! + +Gabrielle rose, and, obtaining the steps, reached down the great +leather-bound quarto book, which she carried to a reading-desk and at +once searched the index. + +The work was in Italian, a language which she knew fairly well; and +after ten minutes or so, during which time the blind man continued +slowly to trace the inscription with his finger-tips, she said, "Here it +is, dad. 'Rancia, near Cremona. The religious brotherhood was founded +there in 1132, and the Abbot Benedict was third abbot, from 1218 to +1231. The church still exists. The magnificent pulpit in marble, +embellished with mosaics, presented in 1272, rests on six columns +supported by lions, with an inscription: "_Nicolaus de Montava +marmorarius hoc opus fecit._" Opposite it is the ambo (1272), in a +simple style, with a representation of Jonah being swallowed by a whale. +In the choir is the throne adorned by mosaics, and the Cappella di San +Pantaleone contains the blood of the saint, together with some relics of +the Abbot Benedict. The cloisters still exist, though, of course, the +monastery is now suppressed.'" + +"And this," remarked Sir Henry, turning over the old bronze seal in his +hand, "belonged to the Abbot Ambrose six hundred and fifty years ago!" + +"Yes, dad," declared the girl, returning to his side and taking the +matrix herself to examine it under the green-shaded reading-lamp. "The +study of seals is most interesting. It carries one back into the dim +ages. I hope the Professor will allow you to keep these casts for your +collection." + +"Yes, I know he will," responded the old Baronet. "He is well aware what +a deep interest I take in my hobby." + +"And also that you are one of the first authorities in the world upon +the subject," added his daughter. + +The old man sighed. Would that he could see with his eyes once again; +for, after all, the sense of touch was but a poor substitute for that of +sight! + +He drew towards him the impression of the second of the oval seals. The +centre was divided into two portions. Above was the half-length figure +of a saint holding a closed book in his hand, and below was a youth with +long hands in the act of adoration. Between them was a scroll upon which +was written: "Sc. Martine O.P.N.," while around the seal were the words +in Gothic characters: + ++ SIGIL . HEINRICHI . PLEBANI . D' DOELSC'H + + +"This is fourteenth century," pronounced the Baronet, "and is from +Dulcigno, on the Adriatic--the seal of Henry, the vicar of the church of +that place. From the engraving and style," he said, still fingering it +with great care, now and then turning to the matrix in order to satisfy +himself, "I should place it as having been executed about 1350. But it +is really a very beautiful specimen, done at a time when the art of +seal-engraving was at its height. No engraver could to-day turn out a +more ornate and at the same time bold design. Moyes is really very +fortunate in securing this. You must write, my dear, and ask him how +these latest treasures came into his hands." + +At his request she got down another of the ponderous volumes of +Sassolini from the high shelf, and read to him, translating from the +Italian the brief notice of the ancient church of Dulcigno, which, it +appeared, had been built in the Lombard-Norman style of the eleventh +century, while the campanile, with columns from Paestum, dated from +1276. + +The third seal, the circular one, was larger than the rest, being quite +two inches across. In the centre of the top half was the Madonna with +Child, seated, a male and female figure on either side. Below were three +female figures on either side, the two scenes being divided by a festoon +of flowers, while around the edge ran in somewhat more modern +characters--those of the early sixteenth century--the following: + ++ SIGILLVM . VICARIS . GENERALIS . ORDINIS . BEATA . MARIA . D' MON . +CARMEL + + +"This," declared Sir Henry, after a long and most minute examination, +"is a treasure probably unequalled in the collection at Cambridge, being +the actual seal of the Vicar-General of the Carmelite order. Its date I +should place at about 1150. Look well, dear, at those flower garlands; +how beautifully they are engraved! Seal-making is, alas! to-day a lost +art. We have only crude and heavy attempts. The company seal seems +to-day the only thing the engraver can turn out--those machines which +emboss upon a big red wafer." And his busy fingers were continuously +feeling the great circular bronze matrix, and a moment afterwards its +sulphur-cast. + +He was an enthusiastic antiquary, and long ago, in the days when the +world was light, had read papers before the Society of Antiquaries at +Burlington House upon mediaeval seals and upon the early Latin codices. +Nowadays, however, Gabrielle acted as his eyes; and so devoted was she +to her father that she took a keen interest in his dry-as-dust hobbies, +so that after his long tuition she could decipher and read a +twelfth-century Latin manuscript, on its scrap of yellow, crinkled +parchment, and with all its puzzling abbreviations, almost as well as +any professor of palaeography at the universities, while inscriptions +upon Gothic seals were to her as plain as a paragraph in a newspaper. +More than once, white-haired, spectacled professors who came to +Glencardine as her father's guests were amazed at her intelligent +conversation upon points which were quite abstruse. Indeed, she had no +idea of the remarkable extent of her own antiquarian knowledge, all of +it gathered from the talented man whose affliction had kept her so close +at his side. + +For quite an hour her father fingered the three seal-impressions, +discussing them with her in the language of a savant. She herself +examined them minutely and expressed opinions. Now and then she glanced +apprehensively to that open window. He pointed out to her where she was +wrong in her estimate of the design of the circular one, explaining a +technical and little-known detail concerning the seals of the Carmelite +order. + +From the window a cool breath of the night-wind came in, fanning the +curtains and carrying with it the sweet scent of the flowers without. + +"How refreshing!" exclaimed the old man, drawing in a deep breath. "The +night is very close, Gabrielle, dear. I fear we shall have thunder." + +"There was lightning only a moment ago," explained the girl. "Shall I +put the casts into your collection, dad?" + +"Yes, dear. Moyes no doubt intends that I should keep them." + +Gabrielle rose, and, passing across to a large cabinet with many shallow +drawers, she opened one, displaying a tray full of casts of seals, each +neatly arranged, with its inscription and translation placed beneath, +all in her own clear handwriting. + +Some of the drawers contained the matrices as well as the casts; but as +matrices of mediaeval seals are rarities, and seldom found anywhere save +in the chief public museums, it is no wonder that the bulk of private +collections consist of impressions. + +Presently, at the Baronet's suggestion, she closed and locked the +cabinet, and then took up a bundle of business documents, which she +commenced to sort out and arrange. + +She acted as her father's private secretary, and therefore knew much of +his affairs. But many things were to her a complete mystery, be it said. +Though devoted to her father, she nevertheless sometimes became filled +with a vague suspicion that the source of his great income was not +altogether an open and honest one. The papers and letters she read to +him often contained veiled information which sorely puzzled her, and +which caused her many hours of wonder and reflection. Her father lived +alone, with only her as companion. Her stepmother, a young, +good-looking, and giddy woman, never dreamed the truth. + +What would she do, how would she act, Gabrielle wondered, if ever she +gained sight of some of those private papers kept locked in the cavity +beyond the black steel door concealed by the false bookcase at the +farther end of the fine old restful room? + +The papers she handled had been taken from the safe by Sir Henry +himself. And they contained a man's secret. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +SOMETHING CONCERNING JAMES FLOCKART + +In the spreading dawn the house party had returned from Connachan and +had ascended to their rooms, weary with the night's revelry, the men +with shirt-fronts crumpled and ties awry, the women with hair +disordered, and in some cases with flimsy skirts torn in the mazes of +the dance. Yet all were merry and full of satisfaction at what one young +man from town had declared to be "an awfully ripping evening." All +retired at once--all save the hostess and one of her male guests, the +man who had entered the library by stealth earlier in the evening and +had called Gabrielle outside. + +Lady Heyburn and her visitor, James Flockart, had managed to slip away +from the others, and now stood together in the library, into which the +grey light of dawn was at that moment slowly creeping. + +He drew up one of the blinds to admit the light; and there, away over +the hills beyond, the glen showed the red flush that heralded the sun's +coming. Then, returning to where stood the young and attractive woman in +pale pink chiffon, with diamonds on her neck and a star in her fair +hair, he looked her straight in the face and asked, "Well, and what have +you decided?" + +She raised her eyes to his, but made no reply. She was hesitating. + +The gems upon her were heirlooms of the Heyburn family, and in that grey +light looked cold and glassy. The powder and the slight touch of carmine +upon her cheeks, which at night had served to heighten her beauty, now +gave her an appearance of painted artificiality. She was undeniably a +pretty woman, and surely required no artificial aids to beauty. About +thirty-three, yet she looked five years younger; while her husband was +twenty years senior to herself. She still retained a figure so girlish +that most people took her for Gabrielle's elder sister, while in the +matter of dress she was admitted in society to be one of the leaders of +fashion. Her hair was of that rare copper-gold tint, her features +regular, with a slightly protruding chin, soft eyes, and cheeks perfect +in their contour. Society knew her as a gay, reckless, giddy woman, who, +regardless of the terrible affliction which had fallen upon the +brilliant man who was her husband, surrounded herself with a circle of +friends of the same type as herself, and who thoroughly enjoyed her life +regardless of any gossip or of the malignant statements by women who +envied her. + +Men were fond of "Winnie Heyburn," as they called her, and always voted +her "good fun." They pitied poor Sir Henry; but, after all, he was +blind, and preferred his hobbies of collecting old seals and dusty +parchment manuscripts to dances, bridge-parties, theatres, aero shows at +Ranelagh, and suppers at the Carlton or Savoy. + +Like most wealthy women of her type, she had a wide circle of male +friends. Younger men declared her to be "a real pal," and with some of +the older beaux she would flirt and be amused by their flattering +speeches. + +Gabrielle's mother, the second daughter of Lord Buckhurst, had been dead +several years when the brilliant politician met his second wife at a +garden-party at Dollis Hill. She was daughter of a man named Lambert, a +paper manufacturer, who acted as political agent in the town of Bedford; +and she was, therefore, essentially a country cousin. Her beauty was, +however, remarked everywhere. The Baronet was struck by her, and within +three months they were married at St. George's, Hanover Square, the +world congratulating her upon a very excellent match. From the very +first, however, the difference in the ages of husband and wife proved a +barrier. Ere the honeymoon was over she found that her husband, tied by +his political engagements and by his eternal duties at the House, was +unable to accompany her out of an evening; hence from the very first +they had drifted apart, until, eight months later, the terrible +affliction of blindness fell upon him. + +For a time this drew her back to him. She was his constant and dutiful +companion everywhere, leading him hither and thither, and attending to +his wants; but very soon the tie bored her, and the attractions of +society once again proved too great. Hence for the past nine +years--Gabrielle being at school, first at Eastbourne and afterwards at +Amiens--she had amused herself and left her husband to his dry-as-dust +hobbies and the loneliness of his black and sunless world. + +The man who had just put that curious question to her was perhaps her +closest friend. To her he owed everything, though the world was in +ignorance of the fact. That they were friends everybody knew. Indeed, +they had been friends years ago in Bedford, before her marriage, for +James was the only son of the Reverend Henry Flockart, vicar of one of +the parishes in the town. People living in Bedford recollected that the +parson's son had turned out rather badly, and had gone to America. But a +year or two after that the quiet-mannered old clergyman had died, the +living had been given to a successor, and Bedford knew the name of +Flockart no more. After Winifred's marriage, however, London society--or +rather a gay section of it--became acquainted with James Flockart, who +lived at ease in his pretty bachelor-rooms in Half-Moon Street, and who +soon gathered about him a large circle of male acquaintances. Sir Henry +knew him, and raised no objection to his wife's friendship towards him. +They had been boy and girl together; therefore what more natural than +that they should be friends in later life? + +In her schooldays Gabrielle knew practically nothing of this man; but +now she had returned to be her father's companion she had met him, and +had bitter cause to hate both him and Lady Heyburn. It was her own +secret. She kept it to herself. She hid the truth from her father--from +every one. She watched closely and in patience. One day she would speak +and tell the truth. Until then, she resolved to keep to herself all that +she knew. + +"Well?" asked the man with the soft-pleated shirt-front and white +waistcoat smeared with cigarette-ash. "What have you decided?" he asked +again. + +"I've decided nothing," was her blank answer. + +"But you must. Don't be a silly fool," he urged. "You've surely had time +to think over it?" + +"No, I haven't." + +"The girl knows nothing. So what have you to fear?" he endeavoured to +assure her. + +Lady Heyburn shrugged her shoulders. "How can you prove that she knows +nothing?" + +"Oh, she has eyes for nobody but the old man," he laughed. "To-night is +an example. Why, she wouldn't come to Connachan, even though she knew +that Walter was there. She preferred to spend the evening here with her +father." + +"She's a little fool, of course, Jimmy," replied the woman in pink; "but +perhaps it was as well that she didn't come. I hate to have to chaperon +the chit. It makes me look so horribly old." + +"I wish to goodness the girl was out of the way!" he declared. "She's +sharper than we think, and, by Jove! if ever she did know what was in +progress it would be all up for both of us--wouldn't it? Phew! think of +it!" + +"If I thought she had the slightest suspicion," declared her ladyship +with a sudden hardness of her lips, "I'd--I'd close her mouth very +quickly." + +"And for ever, eh?" he asked meaningly. + +"Yes, for ever." + +"Bah!" he laughed. "You'd be afraid to do that, my dear Winnie," added +the man, lowering his voice. "Your husband is blind, it's true; but +there are other people in the world who are not. Recollect, Gabrielle is +now nineteen, and she has her eyes open. She's the eyes and ears of Sir +Henry. Not the slightest thing occurs in this household but it is told +to him at once. His indifference to all is only a clever pretence." + +"What!" she gasped quickly; "do you think he suspects?" + +"Pray, what can he suspect?" asked the man very calmly, both hands in +his trouser-pockets, as he leaned back against the table in front of +her. + +"He can only suspect things which his daughter knows," she said. + +"But what does she know? What can she know?" he asked. + +"How can we tell? I have watched, but can detect nothing. I am, however, +suspicious, because she did not come to Connachan with us to-night." + +"Why?" + +"Walter Murie may know something, and may have told her." + +"If so, then to close her lips would be useless. It would only bring a +heavier responsibility upon us--and----" But he hesitated, without +finishing his sentence. His meaning was apparent from the wry face she +pulled at his remark. He did not tell her how he had, while she had been +dancing and flirting that night, made his way back to the castle, or how +he had compelled Gabrielle to go forth and speak with him. His action +had been a bold one, yet its result had confirmed certain vague +suspicions he had held. + +Well he knew that the girl hated him heartily, and that she was in +possession of a certain secret of his--one which might easily result in +his downfall. He feared to tell the truth to this woman before him, for +if he did so she would certainly withdraw from all association with him +in order to save herself. + +The key to the whole situation was held by that slim, sweet-faced girl, +so devoted to her afflicted father. He was not quite certain as to the +actual extent of her knowledge, and was as yet undecided as to what +attitude he should adopt towards her. He stood between the Baronet's +wife and his daughter, and hesitated in which direction to follow. + +What did she really know, he wondered. Had she overheard any of that +serious conversation between Lady Heyburn and himself while they walked +together in the glen on the previous evening? Such a _contretemps_ was +surely impossible, for he remembered they had taken every precaution +lest even Stewart, the head gamekeeper, might be about in order to stop +trespassers, who, attracted by the beauties of Glencardine, tried to +penetrate and explore them, and by so doing disturbed the game. + +"And if the girl really knows?" he asked of the woman who stood there +motionless, gazing out across the lawn fixedly towards the dawn. + +"If she knows, James," she said in a hard, decisive tone, "then we must +act together, quickly and fearlessly. We must carry out that--that plan +you proposed a year ago!" + +"You are quite fearless, then," he asked, looking straight into her fine +eyes. + +"Fearless? Of course I am," she answered unflinchingly. "We must get rid +of her." + +"Providing we can do so without any suspicion falling upon us." + +"You seem to have become quite white-livered," she exclaimed to him with +a harsh, derisive laugh. "You were not so a year ago--in the other +affair." + +His brows contracted as he reflected upon all it meant to him. The girl +knew something; therefore, to seal her lips was imperative for their own +safety. She was their enemy. + +"You are mistaken," he answered in a low calm voice. "I am just as +determined--just as fearless--as I was then." + +"And you will do it?" she asked. + +"If it is your wish," he replied simply. + +"Good! Give me your hand. We are agreed. It shall be done." + +And the man took the slim white hand the woman held out to him, and a +moment later they ascended the great oak staircase to their respective +rooms. + +The pair were in accord. The future contained for Gabrielle +Heyburn--asleep and all unconscious of the dastardly conspiracy--only +that which must be hideous, tragic, fatal. + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE MURIES OF CONNACHAN + +Elise, Lady Heyburn's French maid, discovered next morning that an +antique snake-bracelet was missing, a loss which occasioned great +consternation in the household. + +Breakfast was late, and at table, when the loss was mentioned, Gabrielle +offered to drive over to Connachan in the car and make inquiry and +search. The general opinion was that it had been dropped in one of the +rooms, and was probably still lying there undiscovered. + +The girl's offer was accepted, and half an hour later the smaller of the +two Glencardine cars--the "sixteen" Fiat--was brought round to the door +by Stokes, the smart chauffeur. Young Gellatly, fresh down from Oxford, +begged to be allowed to go with her, and his escort was accepted. + +Then, in motor-cap and champagne-coloured dust-veil, Gabrielle mounted +at the wheel, with the young fellow at her side and Stokes in the back, +and drove away down the long avenue to the high-road. + +The car was her delight. Never so happy was she as when, wrapped in her +leather-lined motor-coat, she drove the "sixteen." The six-cylinder +"sixty" was too powerful for her, but with the "sixteen" she ran +half-over Scotland, and was quite a common object on the Perth to +Stirling road. Possessed of nerve and full of self-confidence, she could +negotiate traffic in Edinburgh or Glasgow, and on one occasion had +driven her father the whole way from Glencardine up to London, a +distance of four hundred and fifty miles. Her fingers pressed the button +of the electric horn as they descended the sharp incline to the +lodge-gates; and, turning into the open road, she was soon speeding +along through Auchterarder village, skirted Tullibardine Wood, down +through Braco, and along by the Knaik Water and St. Patrick's Well into +Glen Artney, passing under the dark shadow of Dundurn, until there came +into view the broad waters of Loch Earn. + +The morning was bright and cloudless, and at such a pace they went that +a perfect wall of dust stood behind them. + +From the margin of the loch the ground rose for a couple of miles until +it reached a plateau upon which stood the fine, imposing Priory, the +ancestral seat of the Muries of Connachan. The aspect as they drove up +was very imposing. The winding road was closely planted with trees for a +large portion of its course, and the stately front of the western +entrance, with its massive stone portico and crenulated cornice, burst +unexpectedly upon them. + +From that point of view one seemed to have reached the gable-end of a +princely edifice, crowned with Gothic belfries; yet on looking round it +was seen that the approach by which the doorway had been reached was +lined on one side with buildings hidden behind the clustering foliage; +and through the archway on the left one caught a glimpse of the +ivy-covered clock-tower and spacious stable-yard and garage extending +northwards for a considerable distance. + +Gabrielle ran the car round to the south side of the house, where in the +foreground were the well-kept parks of Connachan, the smooth-shaven lawn +fringed with symmetrically planted trees, and the fertile fields +extending away to the very brink of the loch. + +The original fortalice of the Muries, half a mile distant, was, like +Glencardine, a ruin. The present Priory, notwithstanding its +old-fashioned towers and lancet windows, was a comparatively modern +structure, and the ivy which partially covered some of the windows could +claim no great antiquity; yet the general effect of the architectural +grouping was most pleasing, and might well deceive the visitor or +tourist into the supposition that it belonged to a very remote period. +It was, as a matter of fact, the work of Atkinson, who in the first +years of the nineteenth century built Scone, Abbotsford, and Taymouth +Castle. + +With loud warning blasts upon the horn, Gabrielle Heyburn pulled up; but +ere she could descend, Walter Murie, a good-looking, dark-haired young +man in grey flannels, and hatless, was outside, hailing her with +delight. + +"Hallo, Gabrielle!" he cried cheerily, taking her hand, "what brings you +over this morning, especially when we were told last night that you were +so very ill?" + +"The illness has passed," exclaimed young Gellatly, shaking his friend's +hand. "And we're now in search of a lost bracelet--one of Lady +Heyburn's." + +"Why, my mother was just going to wire! One of the maids found it in the +boudoir this morning, but we didn't know to whom it belonged. Come +inside. There are a lot of people staying over from last night." Then, +turning to Gabrielle, he added, "By Jove! what dust there must be on the +road! You're absolutely covered." + +"Well," she laughed lightly, "it won't hurt me, I suppose. I'm not +afraid of it." + +Stokes took charge of the car and shut off the petrol, while the three +went inside, passing into a long, cool cloister, down which was arranged +the splendid collection of antiques discovered or acquired by Malcolm +Murie, the well-known antiquary, who had spent many years in Italy, and +died in 1794. In cases ranged down each side of the long cloister, with +its antique carved chairs, armour, and statuary, were rare Etruscan and +Roman terra-cottas, one containing relics from the tomb of a warrior, +which included a sword-hilt adorned with gold and a portion of a golden +crown formed of lilies _in relievo_ of pure gold laid upon a mould of +bronze; another case was full of bronze ornaments unearthed near Albano, +and still another contained rare Abyssinian curios. The collection was +renowned among antiquaries, and was often visited by Sir Henry, who +would be brought there in the car by Gabrielle, and spend hours alone +fingering the objects in the various cases. + +Sir George Murie and Sir Henry Heyburn were close friends; therefore it +was but natural that Walter, the heir to the Connachan estate, and +Gabrielle should often be thrown into each other's company, or perhaps +that the young man--who for the past twelve months had been absent on a +tour round the world--should have loved her ever since the days when she +wore short skirts and her hair down her back. He had been sorely puzzled +why she had not at the last moment come to the ball. She had promised +that she would be with them, and yet she had made the rather lame excuse +of a headache. + +Truth to tell, Walter Murie had during the past week been greatly +puzzled at her demeanour of indifference. Seven days ago he had arrived +in London from New York, but found no letter from her awaiting him at +the club, as he had expected. The last he had received in Detroit a +month before, and it was strangely cold, and quite unusual. Two days ago +he had arrived home, and in secret she had met him down at the end of +the glen at Glencardine. At her wish, their first meeting had been +clandestine. Why? + +Both their families knew of their mutual affection. Therefore, why +should she now make a secret of their meeting after twelve months' +separation? He was puzzled at her note, and he was further puzzled at +her attitude towards him. She was cold and unresponsive. When he held +her in his arms and kissed her soft lips, she only once returned his +passionate caress, and then as though it were a duty forced upon her. +She had, however, promised to come to the ball. That promise she had +deliberately broken. + +Though he could not understand her, he made pretence of unconcern. He +regretted that she had not felt well last night--that was all. + +At the end of the cloister young Gellatly found one of Lady Murie's +guests, a girl named Violet Priest, with whom he had danced a good deal +on the previous night, and at once attached himself to her, leaving +Walter with the sweet-faced, slim-waisted object of his affections. + +The moment they were alone in the long cloister he asked her quickly, +"Tell me, Gabrielle, the real reason why you did not come last night. I +had looked forward very much to seeing you. But I was disappointed +--sadly disappointed." + +"I am very sorry," she laughed, with assumed nonchalance; "but I had to +assist my father with some business papers." + +"Your mother told everyone that you do not care for dancing," he said. + +"That is untrue, Walter. I love dancing." + +"I knew it was untrue, dearest," he said, standing before her. "But why +does Lady Heyburn go out of her way to throw cold water upon you and all +your works?" + +"How should I know?" asked the girl, with a slight shrug. "Perhaps it is +because my father places more confidence in me than in her." + +"And his confidence is surely not misplaced," he said. "I tell you +frankly that I don't like Lady Heyburn." + +"She pretends to like you." + +"Pretends!" he echoed. "Yes, it's all pretence. But," he added, "do tell +me the real reason of your absence last night, Gabrielle. It has worried +me." + +"Why worry, my dear Walter? Is it really worth troubling over? I'm only +a girl, and, as such, am allowed vagaries of nerves--and all that. I +simply didn't want to come, that's all." + +"Why?" + +"Well, to tell you the truth, I hate the crowd we have staying in our +house. They are all mother's friends; and mother's friends are never +mine, you know." + +He looked at her slim figure, so charming in its daintiness. "What a +dear little philosopher you've grown to be in a single year!" he +declared. "We shall have you quoting Friedrich Nietzsche next." + +"Well," she laughed, "if you would like me to quote him I can do so. I +read _Zarathustra_ secretly at school. One of the girls got a copy from +Germany. Do you remember what Zarathustra says: 'Verily, ye could wear +no better masks, ye present-day men, than your own faces,' Who could +recognise you?" + +"I hope that's not meant to be personal," he laughed, gazing at the +girl's beautiful countenance and great, luminous eyes. + +"You may take it as you like," she declared with a delightfully +mischievous smile. "I only quoted it to show you that I have read +Nietzsche, and recollect his many truths." + +"You certainly do seem to have a gay house-party at Glencardine," he +remarked, changing the subject. "I noticed Jimmy Flockart there as +usual." + +"Yes. He's one of mother's greatest friends. She makes good use of him +in every way. Up in town they are inseparable, it seems. They knew each +other, I believe, when they were boy and girl." + +"So I've heard," replied the young man thoughtfully, leaning against a +big glass case containing a collection of _lares_ and _penates_--images +of Jupiter, Hercules, Mercury, &c., used as household gods. "I expected +that he would be dancing attendance upon her during the whole of the +evening; but, curiously enough, soon after his arrival he suddenly +disappeared, and was not seen again until nearly two o'clock." Then, +looking straight in the girl's fathomless eye, he added, "Do you know, +Gabrielle, I don't like that fellow. Beware of him." + +"Neither do I. But your warning is quite unnecessary, I assure you. He +doesn't interest me in the least." + +Walter Murie was silent for a moment, silent as though in doubt. A +shadow crossed his well-cut features, but only for a single second. Then +he smiled again upon the fair-faced, soft-spoken girl whom he loved so +honestly and so well, the woman who was all in all to him. How could he +doubt her--she who only a year ago had, out yonder in the park, given +him her pledge of affection, and sealed it with her hot, passionate +kisses? Remembrance of those sweet caresses still lingered with him. But +he doubted her. Yes, he could not conceal from himself certain very ugly +facts--facts within his own knowledge. Yet was not his own poignant +jealousy misleading him? Was not her refusal to attend the ball perhaps +due to some sudden pique or unpleasantness with her giddy stepmother? +Was it? He only longed to be able to believe that it might be so. Alas! +however, he had discovered the shadow of a strange and disagreeable +truth. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +CONCERNS GABRIELLE'S SECRET + +Along the cloister they went to the great hall, where Walter's mother +advanced to greet her. Full of regrets at the girl's inability to attend +the dance, she handed her the missing bracelet, saying, "It is such a +curious and unusual one, dear, that we wondered to whom it belonged. +Brown found it when she was sweeping my boudoir this morning. Take it +home to your mother, and suggest that she has a stronger clasp put on +it." + +The girl held the golden snake in her open hand. This was the first time +she had ever seen it. A fine example of old Italian workmanship, it was +made flexible, with its flat head covered with diamonds, and two bright +emeralds for the eyes. The mouth could be opened, and within was a small +cavity where a photo or any tiny object could be concealed. Where her +mother had picked it up she could not tell. But Lady Heyburn was always +purchasing quaint odds and ends, and, like most giddy women of her +class, was extraordinarily fond of fantastic jewellery and ornaments +such as other women did not possess. + +Several members of the house-party at Connachan entered and chatted, all +being full of the success of the previous night's entertainment. Lady +Murie's husband had, it appeared, left that morning for Edinburgh to +attend a political committee. + +A little later Walter succeeded in getting Gabrielle alone again in a +small, well-furnished room leading off the library--a room in which she +had passed many happy hours with him before he had gone abroad. He had +been in London reading for the Bar, but had spent a good deal of his +time up in Perthshire, or at least all he possibly could. At such times +they were inseparable; but after he had been "called"--there being no +necessity for him to practise, he being heir to the estates--he had gone +to India and Japan "to broaden his mind," as his father had explained. + +"I wonder, Gabrielle," he said hesitatingly, holding her hand as they +stood at the open window--"I wonder if you will forgive me if I put a +question to you. I--I know I ought not to ask it," he stammered; "but it +is only because I love you so well, dearest, that I ask you to tell me +the truth." + +"The truth!" echoed the girl, looking at him with some surprise, though +turning just a trifle paler, he thought. "The truth about what?" + +"About that man James Flockart," was his low, distinct reply. + +"About him! Why, my dear Walter," she laughed, "whatever do you want to +know about him? You know all that I know. We were agreed long ago that +he is not a gentleman, weren't we?" + +"Yes," he said. "Don't you recollect our talk at your house in London +two years ago, soon after you came back from school? Do you remember +what you then told me?" + +She flushed slightly at the recollection. "I--I ought not to have said +that," she exclaimed hurriedly. "I was only a girl then, and I--well, I +didn't know." + +"What you said has never passed my lips, dearest. Only, I ask you again +to-day to tell me honestly and frankly whether your opinion of him has +in any way changed. I mean whether you still believe what you then +said." + +She was silent for a few moments. Her lips twitched nervously, and her +eyes stared blankly out of the window. "No, I repeat what--I--said +--then," she answered in a strange hoarse voice. + +"And only you yourself suspect the truth?" + +"You are the only person to whom I have mentioned it, and I have been +filled with regret ever since. I had no right to make the allegation, +Walter. I should have kept my secret to myself." + +"There was surely no harm in telling me, dearest," he exclaimed, still +holding her hand, and looking fixedly into those clear-blue, fathomless +eyes so very dear to him. "You know too well that I would never betray +you." + +"But if he knew--if that man ever knew," she cried, "he would avenge +himself upon me! I know he would." + +"But what have you to fear, little one?" he asked, surprised at the +sudden change in her. + +"You know how my mother hates me, how they all detest me--all except +dear old dad, who is so terribly helpless, misled, defrauded, and +tricked--as he daily is--by those about him." + +"I know, darling," said the young man. "I know it all only too well. +Trust in me;" and, bending, he kissed her softly upon the lips. + +What was the real, the actual truth, he wondered. Was she still his, as +she had ever been, or was she playing him false? + +Little did the girl dream of the extent of her lover's knowledge of +certain facts which she was hiding from the world, vainly believing them +to be her own secret. Little did she dream how very near she was to +disaster. + +Walter Murie had, after a frivolous youth, developed at the age of +six-and-twenty into as sound, honest, and upright a young man as could +be found beyond the Border. As full of high spirits as of high +principles, he was in every way worthy the name of the gallant family +whose name he bore, a Murie of Connachan, both for physical strength and +scrupulous honesty; while his affection for Gabrielle Heyburn was that +deep, all-absorbing devotion which makes men sacrifice themselves for +the women they love. He was not very demonstrative. He never wore his +heart upon his sleeve, but deep within him was that true affection which +caused him to worship her as his idol. To him she was peerless among +women, and her beauty was unequalled. Her piquant mischievousness amused +him. As a girl, she had always been fond of tantalising him, and did so +now. Yet he knew her fine character; how deeply devoted she was to her +afflicted father, and how full of discomfort was her dull life, now that +she had exchanged her school for the same roof which covered Sir Henry's +second wife. Indeed, this latter event was the common talk of all who +knew the family. They sighed and pitied poor Sir Henry. It was all very +sad, they said; but there their sympathy ended. During Walter's absence +abroad something had occurred. What that something was he had not yet +determined. Gabrielle was not exactly the same towards him as she used +to be. His keen sensitiveness told him this instinctively, and, indeed, +he had made a discovery that, though he did not admit it now, had +staggered him. + +He stood there at the open window chatting with her, but what he said he +had no idea. His one thought--the one question which now possessed +him--was whether she still loved him, or whether the discovery he had +made was the actual and painful truth. Tall and good-looking, +clean-shaven, and essentially easy-going, he stood before her with his +dark eyes fixed upon her--eyes full of devotion, for was she not his +idol? + +She was telling him of a garden-party which her mother had arranged for +the following Thursday, and pressing him to attend it. + +"I'm afraid I may have to be in London that day, dearest," he responded. +"But if I may I'll come over to-morrow and play tennis. Will you be at +home in the afternoon?" + +"No," she declared promptly, with a mischievous laugh, "I shan't. I +shall be in the glen by the first bridge at four o'clock, and shall wait +for you there." + +"Very well, I'll be there," he laughed. "But why should we meet in +secret like this, when everybody knows of our engagement?" + +"Well, because I have a reason," she replied in a strained voice--"a +strong reason." + +"You've grown suddenly shy, afraid of chaff, it seems." + +"My mother is, I fear, not altogether well disposed towards you, +Walter," was her quick response. "Dad is very fond of you, as you well +know; but Lady Heyburn has other views for me, I think." + +"And is that the only reason you wish to meet me in secret?" he asked. + +She hesitated, became slightly confused, and quickly turned the +conversation into a different channel, a fact which caused him increased +doubt and reflection. + +Yes, something certainly had occurred. That was vividly apparent. A gulf +lay between them. + +Again he looked straight into her beautiful face, and fell to wondering. +What could it all mean? So true had she been to him, so sweet her +temperament, so high all her ideals, that he could not bring himself to +believe ill of her. He tried to fight down those increasing doubts. He +tried to put aside the naked truth which had arisen before him since his +return to England. He loved her. Yes, he loved her, and would think no +ill of her until he had proof, actual and indisputable. + +As far as the eligibility of Walter Murie was concerned there was no +question. Even Lady Heyburn could not deny it when she discussed the +matter over the tea-cups with her intimate friends. + +The family of the Muries of Connachan claimed a respectable antiquity. +The original surname of the family was De Balinhard, assumed from an +estate of that name in the county of Forfar. Sir Jocelynus de +Baldendard, or Balinhard, who witnessed several charters between 1204 +and 1225, is the first recorded of the name, but there is no documentary +proof of descent before that time; and, indeed, most of the family +papers having been burned in 1452, little remains of the early history +beyond the names and succession of the possessors of Balinhard from +about 1250 till 1350, which are stated in a charter of David II. now +preserved in the British Museum. This charter records the grant made by +William de Maule to John de Balinhard, _filio et heredi quondam Joannis +filii Christini filii Joannis de Balinhard_, of the lands of Murie, in +the county of Perthshire, and from that period, about 1350, the family +has borne the name of De Murie instead of De Balinhard. In 1409 Duthac +de Murie obtained a charter of the Castle of Connachan, possession of +which has been held by the family uninterruptedly ever since, except for +about thirty years, when the lands were under forfeiture on account of +the Rebellion of 1715. + +Near Crieff Junction station the lands of Glencardine and Connachan +march together; therefore both Sir Henry Heyburn and his friend, Sir +George Murie, had looked upon an alliance between the two houses as +quite within the bounds of probability. + +If the truth were told, Gabrielle had never looked upon any other man +save Walter with the slightest thought of affection. She loved him with +the whole strength of her being. During that twelve long months of +absence he had been daily in her thoughts, and his constant letters she +had read and re-read dozens of times. She had, since she left school, +met many eligible young men at houses to which her mother had grudgingly +taken her--young men who had been nice to her, flattered her, and +flirted with her. But she had treated them all with coquettish disdain, +for in the world there was but one man who was her lover and her +hero--her old friend Walter Murie. + +At this moment, as they were together in that cosy, well-furnished room, +she became seized by a twinge of conscience. She knew quite well that +she was not treating him as she ought. She had not been at all +enthusiastic at his return, and she had inquired but little about his +wanderings. Indeed, she had treated him with a studied indifference, as +though his life concerned her but little. And yet if he only knew the +truth, she thought; if he could only see that that cool, unresponsive +attitude was forced upon her by circumstances; if he could only know how +quickly her heart throbbed when he was present, and how dull and lonely +all became when he was absent! + +She loved him. Ah, yes! as truly and devotedly as he loved her. But +between them there had fallen a dark, grim shadow--one which, at all +hazards and by every subterfuge, she must endeavour to hide. She loved +him, and could, therefore, never bear to hear his bitter reproaches or +to witness his grief. He worshipped her. Would that he did not, she +thought. She must hide her secret from him as she was hiding it from all +the world. + +He was speaking. She answered him calmly yet mechanically. He wondered +what strange thoughts were concealed beneath those clear, wide-open, +child-like eyes which he was trying in vain to fathom. What would he +have thought had he known the terrible truth: that she had calmly, and +after long reflection, resolved to court death--death by her own +hand--rather than face the exposure with which she had that previous +night been threatened. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +CONTAINS CURIOUS CONFIDENCES + +A week had gone by. Stewart, the lean, thin-faced head-keeper, who spoke +with such a strong accent that guests from the South often failed to +understand him, and who never seemed to sleep, so vigilant was he over +the Glencardine shootings, had reported the purchase of a couple of new +pointers. + +Therefore, one morning Lady Heyburn and her constant cavalier, Flockart, +had walked across to the kennels close to the castle to inspect them. + +At the end of the big, old-fashioned stable-yard, with grey stone +outbuildings ranged down either side, and the ancient mounting-block a +conspicuous object, were ranged the modern iron kennels full of pointers +and spaniels. In that big, old, paved quadrangle, the cobbles of which +were nowadays stained by the oil of noisy motor-cars, many a Graham of +Glencardine had mounted to ride into Stirling or Edinburgh, or to drive +in his coach to far-off London. The stables were now empty, but the +garage adjoining, whence came the odour of petrol, contained the two +Glencardine cars, besides three others belonging to members of that +merry, irresponsible house-party. + +The inspection of the pointers was a mere excuse on her ladyship's part +to be alone with Flockart. + +She wished to speak with him, and with that object suggested that they +should take the by-road which, crossing one of the main roads through +the estate, led through a leafy wood away to a railway level-crossing +half a mile off. The road was unfrequented, and they were not likely to +meet any of the guests, for some were away fishing, others had motored +into Stirling, and at least three had walked down into Auchterarder to +take a telegram for their blind host. + +"Well, my dear Jimmy," asked the well-preserved, fair-haired woman in +short brown skirt and fresh white cotton blouse and sun-hat, "what have +you discovered?" + +"Very little," replied the easy-going man, who wore a suit of rough +heather-tweed and a round cloth fishing-hat. "My information is +unfortunately very meagre. You have watched carefully. Well, what have +you found out?" + +"That she's just as much in love with him as before--the little fool!" + +"And I suppose he's just as devoted to her as ever--eh?" + +"Of course. Since you've been away these last few days he's been over +here from Connachan, on one pretext or another, every day. Of course +I've been compelled to ask him to lunch, for I can't afford to quarrel +with his people, although I hate the whole lot of them. His mother gives +herself such airs, and his father is the most terrible old bore in the +whole country." + +"But the match would be an advantageous one--wouldn't it?" suggested the +man strolling at her side, and he stopped to light a cigarette which he +took from a golden case. + +"Advantageous! Of course it would! But we can't afford to allow it, my +dear Jimmy. Think what such an alliance would mean to us!" + +"To you, you mean." + +"To you also. An ugly revelation might result, remember. Therefore it +must not be allowed. While Walter was abroad all was pretty plain +sailing. Lots of the letters she wrote him I secured from the post-box, +read them, and afterwards burned them. But now he's back there is a +distinct peril. He's a cute young fellow, remember." + +Flockart smiled. "We must discover a means by which to part them," he +said slowly but decisively. "I quite agree with you that to allow the +matter to go any further would be to court disaster. We have a good many +enemies, you and I, Winnie--many who would only be too pleased and eager +to rake up that unfortunate episode. And I, for one, have no desire to +figure in a criminal dock." + +"Nor have I," she declared quickly. + +"But if I went there you would certainly accompany me," he said, looking +straight at her. + +"What!" she gasped in quick dismay. "You would tell the truth and--and +denounce me?" + +"I would not; but no doubt there are others who would," was his answer. + +For a few moments her arched brows were knit, and she remained silent. +Her reflections were uneasy ones. She and the man at her side, who for +years had been her confidant and friend, were both in imminent peril of +exposure. Their relations had always been purely platonic; therefore she +was not afraid of any allegation against her honour. What her enemies +had said were lies--all of them. Her fear lay in quite a different +direction. + +Her poor, blind, helpless husband was in ignorance of that terrible +chapter of her own life--a chapter which she had believed to be closed +for ever, and yet which was, by means of a chain of unexpected +circumstances, in imminent danger of being reopened. + +"Well," she inquired at last in a blank voice, "and who are those others +who, you believe, would be prepared to denounce me?" + +"Certain persons who envy you your position, and who, perhaps, think +that you do not treat poor old Sir Henry quite properly." + +"But I do treat him properly!" she declared vehemently. "If he prefers +the society of that chit of a girl of his to mine, how can I possibly +help it? Besides, people surely must know that, to me, the society of a +blind old man is not exactly conducive to gaiety. I would only like to +put those women who malign me into my place for a single year. Perhaps +they would become even more reckless of the _convenances_ than I am!" + +"My dear Winnie," he said, "what's the use of discussing such an old and +threadbare theme? Things are not always what they seem, as the man with +a squint said when he thought he saw two sovereigns where there was but +one. The point before us is the girl's future." + +"It lies in your hands," was her sharp reply. + +"No; in yours. I have promised to look after Walter Murie." + +"But how can I act?" she asked. "The little hussy cares nothing for +me--only sees me at table, and spends the whole of her day with her +father." + +"Act as I suggested last week," was his rejoinder. "If you did that the +old man would turn her out of the place, and the rest would be easy +enough." + +"But----" + +"Ah!" he laughed derisively, "I see you've some sympathy with the girl +after all. Very well, take the consequences. It is she who will be your +deadliest enemy, remember; she who, if the disaster falls, will give +evidence against you. Therefore, you'd best act now, ere it's too late. +Unless, of course, you are in fear of her." + +"I don't fear her!" cried the woman, her eyes flashing defiance. "Why do +you taunt me like this? You haven't told me yet what took place on the +night of the ball." + +"Nothing. The mystery is just as complete as ever." + +"She defied you--eh?" + +Her companion nodded. + +"Then how do you now intend to act?" + +"That's just the question I was about to put to you," he said. "There is +a distinct peril--one which becomes graver every moment that the girl +and young Murie are together. How are we to avert it?" + +"By parting them." + +"Then act as I suggested the other day. It's the only way, Winnie, +depend upon it--the only way to secure our own safety." + +"And what would the world say of me, her stepmother, if it were known +that I had done such a thing?" + +"You've never yet cared for what the world said. Why should you care +now? Besides, it never will be known. I should be the only person in the +secret, and for my own sake it isn't likely that I'd give you away. Is +it? You've trusted me before," he added; "why not again?" + +"It would break my husband's heart," she declared in a low, intense +voice. "Remember, he is devoted to her. He would never recover from the +shock." + +"And yet the other night after the ball you said you were prepared to +carry out the suggestion, in order to save yourself," he remarked with a +covert sneer. + +"Perhaps I was piqued that she should defy my suggestion that she should +go to the ball." + +"No, you were not. You never intended her to go. That you know." + +When he spoke to her this man never minced matters. The woman was held +by him in a strange thraldom which surprised many people; yet to all it +was a mystery. The world knew nothing of the fact that James Flockart +was without a penny, and that he lived--and lived well, too--upon the +charity of Lady Heyburn. Two thousand pounds were placed, in secret, +every year to his credit from her ladyship's private account at +Coutts's, besides which he received odd cheques from her whenever his +needs required. To his friends he posed as an easy-going man-about-town, +in possession of an income not large, but sufficient to supply him with +both comforts and luxuries. He usually spent the London season in his +cosy chambers in Half-Moon Street; the winter at Monte Carlo or at +Cairo; the summer at Aix, Vichy, or Marienbad; and the autumn in a +series of visits to houses in Scotland. + +He was not exactly a ladies' man. Courtly, refined, and a splendid +linguist, as he was, the girls always voted him great fun; but from the +elder ones, and from married women especially, he somehow held himself +aloof. His one woman-friend, as everybody knew, was the flighty, +go-ahead Lady Heyburn. + +Of the country-house party he was usually the life and soul. No man +could invent so many practical jokes or carry them on with such +refinement of humour as he. Therefore, if the hostess wished to impart +merriment among her guests, she sought out and sent a pressing +invitation to "Jimmy" Flockart. A first-class shot, an excellent +tennis-player, a good golfer, and quite a good hand at putting a stone +in curling, he was an all-round sportsman who was sure to be highly +popular with his fellow-guests. Hence up in the north his advent was +always welcomed with loud approbation. + +To those who knew him, and knew him well, this confidential conversation +with the woman whose platonic friendship he had enjoyed through so many +years would certainly have caused greatest surprise. That he was a +schemer was entirely undreamed of. That he was attracted by "Winnie +Heyburn" was declared to be only natural, in view of the age and +affliction of her own husband. Cases such as hers are often regarded +with a very lenient eye. + +They had reached the level-crossing where, beside the line of the +Caledonian Railway, stands the mail-apparatus by which the down-mail for +Euston picks up the local bag without stopping, while the up-mail drops +its letters and parcels into the big, strong net. For a few moments they +halted to watch the dining-car express for Euston pass with a roar and a +crash as she dashed down the incline towards Crieff Junction. + +Then, as they turned again towards the house, he suddenly exclaimed, +"Look here, Winnie. We've got to face the music now. Every day increases +our peril. If you are actually afraid to act as I suggest, then tell me +frankly and I'll know what to do. I tell you quite openly that I have +neither desire nor intention to be put into a hole by this confounded +girl. She has defied me; therefore she must take the consequences." + +"How do you know that your action the other night has not aroused her +suspicions?" + +"Ah! there you are quite right. It may have done so. If it has, then our +peril has very considerably increased. That's just my argument." + +"But we'll have Walter to reckon with in any case. He loves her." + +"Bah! Leave the boy to me. I'll soon show him that the girl's not worth +a second thought," replied Flockart with nonchalant air. "All you have +to do is to act as I suggested the other night. Then leave the rest to +me." + +"And suppose it were discovered?" asked the woman, whose face had grown +considerably paler. + +"Well, suppose the worst happened, and it were discovered?" he asked, +raising his brows slightly. "Should we be any worse off than would be +the case if this girl took it into her head to expose us--if the facts +which she could prove placed us side by side in an assize-court?" + +The woman--clever, scheming, ambitious--was silent. The question +admitted of no reply. She recognised her own peril. The picture of +herself arraigned before a judge, with that man beside her, rose before +her imagination, and she became terrified. That slim, pale-faced girl, +her husband's child, stood between her and her own honour, her own +safety. Once the girl was removed, she would have no further fear, no +apprehension, no hideous forebodings concerning the imminent future. She +saw it all as she walked along that moss-grown forest-road, her eyes +fixed straight before her. The tempter at her side had urged her to +commit a dastardly, an unpardonable crime. In that man's hands she was, +alas! as wax. He poured into her ear a vivid picture of what must +inevitably result should Gabrielle reveal the ugly truth, at the same +time calmly watching the effect of his words upon her. Upon her decision +depended his whole future as well as hers. What was Gabrielle's life to +hers, asked the man point-blank. That was the question which decided +her--decided her, after long and futile resistance, to promise to commit +the act which he had suggested. She gave the man her hand in pledge. + +Then a slight smile of triumph played about his cruel nether lip, and +the pair retraced their steps towards the castle in silence. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +CASTING THE BAIT + +Loving and perishing: these have tallied from eternity. Love and death +walk hand-in-hand. The will to love means also to be ready for death. + +Gabrielle Heyburn recognised this truth. She had the will to love, and +she had the resolve to perish--perish by her own hand--rather than allow +her secret to be exposed. Those who knew her--a young, athletic, +merry-faced, open-air girl on the verge of budding womanhood, so +true-hearted, frank, and free--little dreamed of the terrible nature of +that secret within her young heart. + +She held aloof from her lover as much as she dared. True, Walter came to +Glencardine nearly every day, but she managed to avoid him whenever +possible. Why? Because she knew her own weakness; she feared being +compelled by his stronger nature, and by the true affection in which she +held him, to confess. They walked together in the cool, shady glen +beside the rippling burn, climbed the neighbouring hills, played tennis, +or else she lay in the hammock at the edge of the lawn while he lounged +at her side smoking cigarettes. She did all this because she was +compelled. + +Her most enjoyable hours were the quiet ones spent at Her father's side. +Alone in the library, she read to him, in French, those curious business +documents which came so often by registered post. They were so strangely +worded that, not knowing their true import, she failed to understand +them. All were neatly typed, without any heading to the paper. Sometimes +a printed address in the Boulevard des Capucines, Paris, would appear on +letters accompanying the enclosures. But all were very formal, and to +Gabrielle extremely puzzling. + +Sir Henry always took the greatest precaution that no one should obtain +sight of these confidential reports or overhear them read by his +daughter. Before she sat down to read, she always shot the small brass +bolt on the door to prevent Hill or any other intruder from entering. +More than once the Baronet's wife had wanted to come in while the +reading was in progress, whereupon Sir Henry always excused himself, +saying that he locked his door against his guests when he wished to be +alone, an explanation which her ladyship accepted. + +These strangely worded reports in French always puzzled the Baronet's +daughter. Sometimes she became seized by a vague suspicion that her +father was carrying on some business which was not altogether +honourable. Why should he enjoin such secrecy? Why should he cause her +to write and despatch with her own hand such curiously worded telegrams, +addressed always to the registered address: "METEFOROS, PARIS"? + +Those neatly typed pages which she read could be always construed in two +or three senses. But only her father knew the actual meaning which the +writer intended to convey. For hours she would often be engaged in +reading them. Sometimes, too, telegrams in cipher arrived, and she would +then obtain the little, dark-blue covered book from the safe, and by its +aid decipher the messages from the French capital. + +Questions, curious questions, were frequently asked by the anonymous +sender of the reports; and to these her father replied by means of his +private code. She had become during the past year quite an expert +typist, and therefore to her the Baronet entrusted the replies, always +impressing upon her the need of absolute secrecy, even from her mother. + +"My affairs," he often declared, "concern nobody but myself. I trust in +you, Gabrielle dear, to guard my secrets from prying eyes. I know that +you yourself must often be puzzled, but that is only natural." + +Unfamiliar as the girl was with business in any form, she had during the +past year arrived at the conclusion, after much debate within herself, +that this source of her father's income was a distinctly mysterious one. +The estates were, of course, large, and he employed agents to manage +them; but they could not produce that huge income which she knew he +possessed, for had she not more than once seen the amount of his balance +at his banker's as well as the large sum he had on deposit? The source +of his colossal wealth was a mystery, but was no doubt connected with +his curious and constant communications with Paris. + +At rare intervals a grey-faced, grey-bearded, and rather stout +Frenchman--a certain Monsieur Goslin--called, and on such occasions was +closeted for a long time alone with Sir Henry, evidently discussing some +important affair in secret. To her ladyship, as well as to Gabrielle, +the Frenchman was most courteous, but refused the pressing invitations +to remain the night. He always arrived by the morning train from Perth, +and left for the south the same night, the express being stopped for him +by signal at Auchterarder station. The mysterious visitor puzzled +Gabrielle considerably. Her father entrusted him with secrets which he +withheld from her, and this often caused her both surprise and +annoyance. Like every other girl, she was of course full of curiosity. + +Towards her Flockart became daily more friendly. On two occasions, after +breakfast, he had invited her to spend an hour or two fishing for trout +in the burn, which was unexpectedly in spate, and they had thus been +some time in each other's company. + +She, however, regarded him with distinct distrust. He was undeniably +good-looking, nonchalant, and a thorough-going man of the world. But his +intimate friendship with Lady Heyburn prevented her from regarding him +as a true friend. Towards her he was ever most courteous, and paid her +many little compliments. He tied her flies, he fitted her rod, and if +her line became entangled in the trees he always put matters right. Not, +however, that she could not do it all herself. In her strong, high +fishing-boots, her short skirts hemmed with leather, her burberry, and +her dark-blue tam-o'-shanter set jauntily on her chestnut hair, she very +often fished alone, and made quite respectable baskets. To wade into the +burn and disentangle her line from beneath a stone was to her quite a +small occurrence, for she would never let either Stewart or any of the +under-keepers accompany her. + +Why Flockart had so suddenly sought her society she failed to discern. +Hitherto, though always extremely polite, he had treated her as a child, +which she naturally resented. At length, however, he seemed to have +realised that she now possessed the average intelligence of a young +woman. + +He had never repeated those strange words he had uttered when, on the +night of the ball at Connachan, he returned in secret to the castle and +beckoned her out upon the lawn. He had, indeed, never referred to his +curious action. Sometimes she wondered, so changed was his manner, +whether he had actually forgotten the incident altogether. He had showed +himself in his true colours that night. Whatever suspicions she had +previously held were corroborated in that stroll across the lawn in the +dark shadow. His tactics had altered, it seemed, and their objective +puzzled her. + +"It must be very dull for you here, Miss Heyburn," he remarked to her +one bright morning as they were casting up-stream near one another. They +were standing not far from a rustic bridge in a deep, leafy glen, where +the sunshine penetrated here and there through the canopy of leaves, +beneath which the burn pursued its sinuous course towards the Earn. The +music of the rippling waters over the brown, moss-grown boulders mingled +with the rustle of the leaves above, as now and then the soft wind swept +up the narrow valley. They were treading a carpet of wild-flowers, and +the air was full of the delicious perfume of the summer day. "You must +be very dull, living here so much, and going up to town so very seldom," +he said. + +"Oh dear no!" she laughed. "You are quite mistaken. I really enjoy a +country life. It's so jolly after the confinement and rigorous rules of +school. One is free up here. I can wear my old clothes, and go cycling, +fishing, shooting, curling; in fact, I'm my own mistress. That I +shouldn't be if I lived in London, and had to make calls, walk in the +Park, go shopping, sit out concerts, and all that sort of thing." + +"But though you're out, you never go anywhere. Surely that's unusual for +one so active and--well"--he hesitated--"I wonder whether I might be +permitted to say so--so good-looking as you are, Gabrielle." + +"Ah!" replied the girl, protesting, but blushing at the same time, +"you're poking fun at me, Mr. Flockart. All I can reply is, first, that +I'm not good-looking; and, secondly, I'm not in the least dull--perhaps +I should be if I hadn't my father's affairs to attend to." + +"They seem to take up a lot of your time," he said with pretended +indifference, but, to his annoyance, landed a salmon parr at the same +moment. + +"We work together most evenings," was her reply. + +The question which he then put as he threw the parr back into the burn +struck her as curious. It was evident that he was endeavouring to learn +from her the nature of her father's correspondence. But she was shrewd +enough to parry all his ingenious cross-questioning. Her father's +secrets were her own. + +"Some ill-natured people gossip about Sir Henry," he remarked presently, +as he made another long cast up-stream and allowed the flies to be +carried down to within a few yards from where he stood. "They say that +his source of income is mysterious, and that it is not altogether open +and above-board." + +"What!" she exclaimed, looking at him quickly. "And who, pray, Mr. +Flockart, makes this allegation against my father?" + +"Oh, I really don't know who started the gossip. The source of such +tales is always difficult to discover. Some enemy, no doubt. Every man +in this world of ours has enemies." + +"What do you mean by the source of dad's income not being an honourable +one?" + +The man shrugged his shoulders. "I really don't know," he declared. "I +only repeat what I've heard once or twice up in London." + +"Tell me exactly what they say," demanded the girl, with quick interest. + +Her companion hesitated for a few seconds. "Well, whatever has been +said, I've always denied; for, as you know, I am a friend of both Lady +Heyburn and of your father." + +The girl's nostrils dilated slightly. Friend! Why, was not this man her +father's false friend? Was he not behind every sinister action of Lady +Heyburn's, and had not she herself, with her own ears, one day at Park +Street, four years ago, overheard her ladyship express a dastardly +desire in the words, "Oh, Henry is such a dreadful old bore, and so +utterly useless, that it's a shame a woman like myself should be tied up +to him. Fortunately for me, he already has one foot in the grave. +Otherwise I couldn't tolerate this life at all!" Those cruel words of +her stepmother's, spoken to this man who was at that moment her +companion, recurred to her. She recollected, too, Flockart's reply. + +This hollow pretence of friendship angered her. She knew that the man +was her father's enemy, and that he had united with the clever, scheming +woman in some ingenious conspiracy against the poor, helpless man. + +Therefore she turned, and, facing him boldly, said, "I wish, Mr. +Flockart, that you would please understand that I have no intention to +discuss my father or his affairs. The latter concern himself alone. He +does not even speak of them to his wife; therefore why should strangers +evince any interest in them?" + +"Because there are rumours--rumours of a mystery; and mysteries are +always interesting and attractive," was his answer. + +"True," she said meaningly. "Just as rumours concerning certain of my +father's guests possess an unusual interest for him, Mr. Flockart. +Though my father may be blind, his hearing is still excellent. And he is +aware of much more than you think." + +The man glanced at her for an instant, and his face darkened. The girl's +ominous words filled him with vague apprehension. Was it possible that +the blind man had any suspicion of what was intended? He held his +breath, and made another vicious cast far up the rippling stream. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +REVEALS A MYSTERIOUS BUSINESS + +In the few days which followed, Lady Heyburn's attitude towards +Gabrielle became one of marked affection. She even kissed her in the +breakfast-room each morning, called her "dear," and consulted her upon +the day's arrangements. + +Poor Sir Henry was but a cipher in the household. He usually took all +his meals alone, except dinner, and was very seldom seen, save perhaps +when he would come out for an hour or so to walk in the park, led by his +daughter, or else, alone, tapping before him with his stout stick. On +such occasions he would wear a pair of big blue spectacles to hide the +unsightliness of his gray, filmy eyes. Sometimes he would sit on one of +the garden seats on the south side of the house, enjoying the sunshine, +and listening to the songs of the birds, the hum of the insects, and the +soft ripples of the burn far below. And on such occasions one of his +wife's guests would join him to chat and cheer him, for everyone felt +pity for the lonely man living his life of darkness. + +No one was more full of words of sympathy than James Flockart. Gabrielle +longed to warn her father of that man, but dared not do so. There was a +reason--a strong reason--for her silence. Sir Henry had declared that he +was interested in the man's intellectual conversation, and that he +rather liked him, though he had never looked upon his face. In some +things the old gentleman was ever ready to adopt his daughter's advice +and rely upon her judgment; but in others he was quite obstinate and +treated her pointed remarks with calm indifference. + +One day, at Lady Heyburn's suggestion, Gabrielle, accompanied by +Flockart and another of the guests, a retired colonel, had driven over +in the big car to Perth to make a call; and on their return she spent +some hours in the library with her father, attending to his +correspondence. + +That morning a big packet of those typed reports in French had arrived +in the usual registered, orange-coloured envelope, and after she had +read them over to the Baronet, he had given her the key, and she had got +out the code-book. Then, at his instructions, she had written upon a +yellow telegraph-form a cipher message addressed to the mysterious +"Meteforos, Paris." It read, when decoded:-- + +"Arrange with amethyst. I agree the price of pearls. Have no fear of +Smithson, but watch Peters. If London refuses, then Mayfair. Expect +report of Bedford." + +It was not signed by the Baronet's name, but by the signature he always +used on such telegraphic replies: "Senrab." + +From such a despatch she could gather nothing. At his request she took +away the little blue-covered book and relocked it in the safe. Then she +rang for Hill, and told him to send the despatch by messenger down to +Auchterarder village. + +"Very well, miss," replied the man, bowing. + +"The car is going down to take Mr. Seymour to the station in about a +quarter of an hour, so Stokes will take it." + +"And look here," exclaimed the blind man, who was standing before the +window with his back to the crimson sunset, "you can tell her ladyship, +Hill, that I'm very busy, and I shan't come in to dinner to-night. Just +serve a snack here for me, will you?" + +"Very well, Sir Henry," responded the smart footman; and, bowing again, +he closed the door. + +"May I dine with you, dad?" asked the girl. "There are two or three +people invited to-night, and they don't interest me in the least." + +"My dear child, what do you mean? Why, aren't Walter Murie and his +mother dining here to-night? I know your mother invited them ten days +ago." + +"Oh, why, yes," replied the girl rather lamely; "I did not recollect. +Then, I suppose, I must put in an appearance," she sighed. + +"Suppose!" he echoed. "What would Walter think if you elected to dine +with me instead of meeting him at table?" + +"Now, dad, it is really unkind of you!" she said reprovingly. "Walter +and I thoroughly understand each other. He's not surprised at anything I +do." + +"Ah!" laughed the sightless man, "he's already beginning to understand +the feminine perverseness, eh? Well, my child, dine here with me if you +wish, by all means. Tell Hill to lay the table for two. We have lots of +work to do afterwards." + +So the bell was rung again and Hill was informed that Miss Gabrielle +would dine with her father in the library. + +Then they turned again to the Baronet's mysterious private affairs; and +when she had seated herself at the typewriter and re-read the +reports--confidential reports they were, but framed in a manner which +only the old man himself could understand--he dictated to her cryptic +replies, the true nature of which were to her a mystery. + +The last of the reports, brief and unsigned, read as follows:-- + +"Mon petit garcon est tres gravement malade, et je supplie Dieu a genoux +de ne pas me punir si severement, de ne pas me prendre mon enfant. + +"D'apres le dernier bulletin du Professeur Knieberger, il a la fievre +scarlatine, et l'issue de la maladie est incertaine. Je ne quitte plus +son chevet. Et sans cesse je me dis, 'C'est une punition du Ciel.'" + +Gabrielle saw that, to the outside world, it was a statement by a +frantic mother that her child had caught scarlet-fever. "What could it +really mean?" she wondered. + +Slowly she read it, and as she did so noticed the curious effect it had +upon her father, seated as he was in the deep saddle-bag chair. His face +grew very grave, his thin white hands clenched themselves, and there was +an unusually bitter expression about his mouth. + +"Eh?" he asked, as though not quite certain of the words. "Read it +again, child, slower. I--I have to think." + +She obeyed, wondering if the key to the cryptic message were contained +in some conjunction of letters or words. It seemed as though, in +imagination, he was setting it down before him as she pronounced the +words. This was often so. At times he would have reports repeated to him +over and over again. + +"Ah!" he gasped at last, drawing a long breath, his hands still tightly +clenched, his countenance haggard and drawn. "I--I expected that. And so +it has come--at last!" + +"What, dad?" asked the girl in surprise, staring at the crisp +typewritten sheet before her. + +"Oh, well, nothing child--nothing," he answered, bestirring himself. + +"But the lady whoever she is, seems terribly concerned about her little +boy. The judgment of Heaven, she calls it." + +"And well she may, Gabrielle," he answered in a hoarse strained voice. +"Well she may, my dear. It is a punishment sent upon the wicked." + +"Is the mother wicked, then?" asked the girl in curiosity. + +"No, dear," he urged. "Don't try to understand, for you can never do +that. These reports convey to me alone the truth. They are intended to +mislead you, as they mislead other people." + +"Then there is no little boy suffering from scarlet-fever?" + +"Yes. Because it is written there," was his smiling reply. "But it only +refers to an imaginary child, and, by so doing, places a surprising and +alarming truth before me." + +"Is the matter so very serious, dad?" she asked, noticing the curious +effect the words had had upon him. + +"Serious!" he echoed, leaning forward in his chair. "Yes," he answered +in a low voice, "it is very serious, child, both to me and to you." + +"I don't understand you, dad," she exclaimed, walking to his chair +throwing herself upon her knees, and placing her arms around his neck. +"Won't you be more explicit? Won't you tell me the truth? Surely you can +rely upon my secrecy?" + +"Yes, child," he said, groping until his hand fell upon her hair, and +then stroking it tenderly; "I trust you. You keep my affairs from those +people who seek to obtain knowledge of them. Without you, I would be +compelled to employ a secretary; but he could be bought, without a +doubt. Most secretaries can." + +"Ford was very trustworthy, was he not?" + +"Yes, poor Ford," he sighed. "When he died I lost my right hand. But +fortunately you were old enough to take his place." + +"But in a case like this, when you are worried and excited, as you are +at this moment, why not confide in me and allow me to help you?" she +suggested. "You see that, although I act as your secretary, dad, I know +nothing of the nature of your business." + +"And forgive me for speaking very plainly, child, I do not intend that +you should," the old man said. + +"Because you cannot trust me!" she pouted. "You think that because I'm a +woman I cannot keep a secret." + +"Not at all," he said. "I place every confidence in you, dear. You are +the only real friend left to me in the whole world. I know that you +would never willingly betray me to my enemies; but----" + +"Well, but what?" + +"But you might do so unknowingly. You might by one single chance-word +place me within the power of those who seek my downfall." + +"Who seeks your downfall, dad?" she asked very seriously. + +"That's a matter which I desire to keep to myself. Unfortunately, I do +not know the identity of my enemies; hence I am compelled to keep from +you certain matters which, in other circumstances, you might know. But," +he added, "this is not the first time we've discussed this question, +Gabrielle dear. You are my daughter, and I trust you. Do not, child, +misjudge me by suspecting that I doubt your loyalty." + +"I don't, dad; only sometimes I----" + +"Sometimes you think," he said, still stroking her hair--"you think that +I ought to tell you the reason I receive all these reports from Paris, +and their real significance. Well, to tell the truth, dear, it is best +that you should not know. If you reflect for a moment," went on the old +man, tears welling slowly in his filmy, sightless eyes, "you will +realise my unhappy situation--how I am compelled to hide my affairs even +from Lady Heyburn herself. Does she ever question you regarding them?" + +"She used to at one time; but she refrains nowadays, for I would tell +her nothing." + +"Has anyone else ever tried to glean information from you?" he inquired, +after a long breath. + +"Mr. Flockart has done so on several occasions of late. But I pleaded +absolute ignorance." + +"Oh, Flockart has been asking you, has he?" remarked her father with +surprise. "Well, I suppose it is only natural. A blind man's doings are +always more or less a mystery to the world." + +"I don't like Mr. Flockart, dad," she said. + +"So you've remarked before, my dear," her father replied. "Of course you +are right in withholding any information upon a subject which is my own +affair; yet, on the other hand, you should always remember that he is +your mother's very good friend--and yours also." + +"Mine!" gasped the girl, starting up. Would that she were free to tell +the poor, blind, helpless man the ghastly truth! "My friend, dad! What +makes you think that?" + +"Because he is always singing your praises, both to me and your mother." + +"Then I tell you that his expressions of opinion are false, dear dad." + +"How?" + +She was silent. She dared not tell her father the reason; therefore, in +order to turn the subject, she replied, with a forced laugh, "Oh, well, +of course, I may be mistaken; but that's my opinion." + +"A mere prejudice, child; I'm sure it is. As far as I know, Flockart is +quite an excellent fellow, and is most kind both to your mother and to +myself." + +Gabrielle's brow contracted. Disengaging herself, she rose to her feet, +and, after a pause, asked, "What reply shall I send to the report, dad?" + +"Ah, that report!" gasped the man, huddled up in his chair in serious +reflection. "That report!" he repeated, rising to straighten himself. +"Reply in these words: 'No effort is to be made to save the child's +life. On the contrary, it is to be so neglected as to produce a fatal +termination.'" + +The girl had seated herself at the typewriter and rapidly clicked out +the words in French--words that seemed ominous enough, and yet the true +meaning of which she never dreamed. She was thinking only of her +father's misplaced friendship in James Flockart. If she dared to tell +him the naked truth! Oh, if her poor, blind, afflicted father could only +see! + + + +CHAPTER X + +DECLARES A WOMAN'S LOVE + +At nine o'clock that night Gabrielle left her father, and ascended to +her own pretty room, with its light chintz-covered furniture, its +well-filled bamboo bookcases, its little writing-table, and its narrow +bed in the alcove. It was a nest of rest and cosy comfort. + +Exchanging her tweed dress, she put on an easy dressing-gown of pale +blue cashmere, drew up an armchair, and, arranging her electric +reading-lamp, sat down to a new novel she intended to finish. + +Presently Elise came to her; but, looking up, she said she did not wish +to be disturbed, and again coiled herself up in the chair, endeavouring +to concentrate her thoughts upon her book. But all to no purpose. Ever +and anon she would lift her big eyes from the printed page, sigh, and +stare fixedly at the rose-coloured trellis pattern of the wall-paper +opposite. Upon her there had fallen a feeling of vague apprehension such +as she had never before experienced, a feeling that something was about +to happen. + +Lady Heyburn was, she knew, greatly annoyed that she had not made her +appearance at dinner or in the drawing-room afterwards. Generally, when +there were guests from the neighbourhood, she was compelled to sing one +or other of her Italian songs. Her refusal to come to dinner would, she +knew, cause her ladyship much chagrin, for it showed plainly to the +guests that her authority over her step-daughter was entirely at an end. + +Just as the stable-clock chimed half-past ten there came a light tap at +the door. It was Hill, who, on receiving permission to enter, said, "If +you please, miss, Mr. Murie has just asked me to give you this"; and he +handed her an envelope. + +Tearing it open eagerly, she found a visiting-card, upon which some +words were scribbled in pencil. For a moment after reading them she +paused. Then she said, "Tell Mr. Murie it will be all right." + +"Very well, miss," the man replied, and, bowing, closed the door. + +For a few moments she stood motionless in the centre of the room, her +lover's card still in her hand. Then she walked to the open window, and +looked out into the hot, oppressive night. The moon was hidden behind +dark clouds, and the stillness was precursory of the thunderstorm which +for the past hour or so had threatened. Across the room she paced slowly +several times, a deep, anxious expression upon her pale countenance; +then slowly she slipped off her gown and put on a dark stuff dress. + +Until the clock had struck eleven she waited. Then, assuming her +tam-o'-shanter and twisting a silk scarf about her neck, she crept along +the corridor and down the wide oak stairs. Lights were still burning; +but without detection she slipped out by the main door, and, crossing +the broad drive, took the winding path into the woods. + +The guests had all left, and the servants were closing the house for the +night. Scarce had she gone a hundred yards when a dark figure in +overcoat and a golf-cap loomed up before her, and she found Walter at +her side. + +"Why, dearest!" he exclaimed, taking her hand and bending till he +pressed it to his lips, "I began to fear you wouldn't come. Why haven't +I seen you to-night?" + +"Because--well, because I had a bad headache," was her lame reply. "I +knew that if I went in to dinner mother would want me to sing, and I +really didn't feel up to it. I hope, however, you haven't been bored too +much." + +"You know I have!" he said quickly in a low, earnest voice. "I came here +purposely to see you, and you were invisible. I've run the car down the +farm-road on the other side of the park, and left it there. The mater +went home in the carriage nearly an hour ago. She's afraid to go in the +car when I drive." + +Slowly they strolled together along the dark path, he with her arm held +tenderly under his own. + +"Think, darling," he said, "I haven't seen you for four whole days! Why +is it? Yesterday I went to the usual spot at the end of the glen, and +waited nearly two hours; but you did not come, although you promised me, +you know. Why are you so indifferent, dearest?" he asked in a plaintive +tone. "I can't really make you out of late." + +"I'm not indifferent at all, Walter," she declared. "My father has very +much to attend to just now, and I'm compelled to assist him, as you are +well aware. He's so utterly helpless." + +"Oh, but you might spare me just half-an-hour sometimes," he said in a +slight tone of reproach. + +"I do. Why, we surely see each other very often!" + +"Not often enough for me, Gabrielle," he declared, halting in the +darkness and raising her soft little hand to his eager lips. "You know +well enough how fondly I love you, how--" + +"I know," she said in a sad, blank tone. Her own heart beat fast at his +passionate words. + +"Then why do you treat me like this?" he asked. "Is it because I have +annoyed you, that you perhaps think I am not keeping faith with you? I +know I was absent a long time, but it was really not my own fault. My +people made me go round the world. I didn't want to, I assure you. I'd +far rather have been up here at Connachan all the time, and near you, my +own well-beloved." + +"I believe you would, Walter," she answered, turning towards him with +her hand upon his shoulder. "But I do wish you wouldn't reproach me for +my undemonstrativeness each time we meet. It saddens me." + +"I know I ought not to reproach you," he hastened to assure her. "I have +no right to do so; but somehow you have of late grown so sphinx-like +that you are not the Gabrielle I used to know." + +"Why not?" And she laughed, a strange, hollow laugh. "Explain yourself." + +"In the days gone by, before I went abroad, you were not so particular +about our meetings being clandestine. You did not care who saw us or +what people might say." + +"I was a girl then. I have now learnt wisdom, and the truth of the +modern religion which holds that the only sin is that of being found +out." + +"But why are you so secret in all your actions?" he demanded. "Whom do +you fear?" + +"Fear!" she echoed, starting and staring in his direction. "Why, I fear +nobody! What--what makes you think that?" + +"Because it has lately struck me that you meet me in secret +because--well, because you are afraid of someone, or do not wish us to +be seen." + +"Why, how very foolish!" she laughed. "Don't my father and mother both +know that we love each other? Besides, I am surely my own mistress. I +would never marry a man I don't love," she added in a tone of quiet +defiance. + +"And am I to take it that you really do love me, after all?" he inquired +very earnestly. + +"Why, of course," she replied without hesitation, again placing her arm +about his neck and kissing him. "How foolish of you to ask such a +question, Walter! When will you be convinced that the answer I gave you +long ago was the actual truth?" + +"Men who love as fervently as I do are apt to be somewhat foolish," he +declared. + +"Then don't be foolish any longer," she urged in a matter-of-fact voice, +lifting her lips to his and kissing him. "You know I love you, Walter; +therefore you should also know that it I avoid you in public I have some +good reason for doing so." + +"A reason!" he cried. "What reason? Tell me." + +She shook her head. "That is my own affair," she responded. "I repeat +again that my affection for you is undiminished, if such repetition +really pleases you, as it seems to do." + +"Of course it pleases me, dearest," he declared. "No words are sweeter +to my ears than the declaration of your love. My only regret is that, +now I am at home again, I do not see so much of you, sweetheart, as I +had anticipated." + +"Walter," she exclaimed in a slow, changed voice, after a brief silence, +"there is a reason. Please do not ask me to tell you--because--well, +because I can't." And, drawing a long breath, she added, "All I beg of +you is to remain patient and trust in me. I love you; and I love no +other man. Surely that should be, for you, all-sufficient. I am yours, +and yours only." + +In an instant he had folded her slight, dainty form in his arms. The +young man was satisfied, perfectly satisfied. + +They strolled on together through the wood, and out across the open +corn-fields. The moon had come forth again, the storm-clouds had passed, +and the night was perfect. Though she was trying against her will to +hold aloof from Walter Murie, yet she loved him with all her heart and +soul. Many letters she had addressed to him in his travels had remained +unanswered. This had, in a measure, piqued her. But she was in ignorance +that much of his correspondence and hers had fallen into the hands of +her ladyship and been destroyed. + +As they walked on, talking as lovers will, she was thinking deeply, and +full of regret that she dared not tell the truth to this man who, loving +her so fondly, would, she knew, be prepared to make any sacrifice for +her sake. Suppose he knew the truth! Whatever sacrifice he made would, +alas! not alter facts. If she confessed, he would only hate her. Ah, the +tragedy of it all! Therefore she held her silence; she dared not speak +lest she might lose his love. She had no friend in whom she could +confide. From her own father, even, she was compelled to hide the actual +facts. They were too terrible. What would he think if the bitter truth +were exposed? + +The man at her side, tall, brave, strong--a lover whom she knew many +girls coveted--believed that he was to marry her. But, she told herself +within her grief-stricken heart, such a thing could never be. A barrier +stood between them, invisible, yet nevertheless one that might for ever +debar their mutual happiness. + +An involuntary sigh escaped her, and he inquired the reason. She excused +herself by saying that it was owing to the exertion of walking over the +rough path. Therefore they halted, and, with the bright summer moonbeams +falling upon her beautiful countenance, he kissed her passionately upon +the lips again and yet again. + +They remained together for over an hour, moving along slowly, heedless +of where their footsteps led them; heedless, too, of being seen by any +of the keepers who, at night, usually patrolled the estate. Their walk, +however, lay at the farther end of the glen, in the coverts remote from +the house and nearer the high-road; therefore there was but little +danger of being observed. + +Many were the pledges of affection they exchanged before parting. On +Walter's part they were fervent and passionate, but on the part of his +idol they were, alas! only the pretence of a happiness which she feared +could never be permanent. + +Presently they retraced their steps to the edge of the wood beyond which +lay the house. They found the path, and there, at her request, he left +her. It was not wise that he should approach the house at that hour, she +urged. + +So, after a long and fervent leave-taking, he held her in a last +embrace, and then, raising his cap, and saying, "Good-night, my darling, +my own well-beloved!" he turned away and went at a swinging pace down +the farm-road where he had left his car with lights extinguished. + +She watched him disappear. Then, sighing, she turned into the dark, +winding path beneath the trees, the end of which came out upon the drive +close to the house. + +Half-way down, however, with sudden resolve, she took a narrower path to +the left, and was soon on the outskirts of the wood and out again in the +bright moonlight. + +The night was so glorious that she had resolved to stroll alone, to +think and devise some plan for the future. Before her, silhouetted high +against the steely sky, rose the two great, black, ivy-clad towers of +the ancient castle. The grim, crumbling walls stood dark and frowning +amid the fairy-like scene, while from far below came up the faint +rippling of the Ruthven Water. A great owl flapped lazily from the ivy +as she approached those historic old walls which in bygone days had held +within them some of Scotland's greatest men. She had explored and knew +every nook and cranny in those extensive ruins. With Walter's +assistance, she had once made a perilous ascent to the top of the +highest of the two square towers, and had often clambered along the +broken walls of the keep or descended into those strange little +subterranean chambers, now half-choked with earth and rubbish, which +tradition declared were the dungeons in which prisoners in the old days +had been put to the rack, seared with red-hot irons, or submitted to +other horrible tortures. + +Her feet falling noiselessly, she entered the grass-grown courtyard, +where stood the ancient spreading yew, the "dule-tree," under which the +Glencardine charters had been signed and justice administered. Other big +trees had sprung from seedlings since the place had fallen into ruin; +and, having entered, she paused amidst its weird, impressive silence. +Those high, ponderous walls about her spoke mutely of strength and +impregnability. Those grass-grown mounds hid ruined walls and broken +foundations. What tales of wild lawlessness and reckless bloodshed they +all could tell! + +Many of the strange stories she had heard concerning the old +place--stories told by the people in the neighbourhood--were recalled as +she stood there gazing wonderingly about her. Many romantic legends had, +indeed, been handed down in Perthshire from generation to generation +concerning old Glencardine and its lawless masters, and for her they had +always possessed a strange fascination, for had she not inherited the +antiquarian tastes of her father, and had she not read many works upon +folklore and such-like subjects. + +Suddenly, while standing in the deep shadow, gazing thoughtfully up at +those high towers which, though ruined, still guarded the end of the +glen, a strange thing occurred--something which startled her, causing +her to halt breathless, petrified, rooted to the spot. She stared +straight before her. Something uncanny was happening there, something +that was, indeed, beyond human credence, and quite inexplicable. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CONCERNS THE WHISPERS + +What had startled Gabrielle was certainly extraordinary and decidedly +uncanny. She was standing near the southern wall, when, of a sudden, she +heard low but distinct whispers. Again she listened. Yes. The sounds +were not due to her excited imagination at the recollection of those +romantic traditions of love and hatred, or of those gruesome stories of +how the Wolf of Badenoch had been kept prisoner there for five years and +put to frightful tortures, or how the Laird of Weem was deliberately +poisoned in that old banqueting-hall, the huge open fireplace of which +still existed near where she stood. + +There was the distinct sound of low, whispered words! She held her +breath to listen. She tried to distinguish what the words were, but in +vain. Then she endeavoured to determine whence they emanated, but was +unable to do so. Again they sounded--again--and yet again. Then there +was another voice, still low, still whispering, but not quite so deep as +the first. It sounded like a woman's. + +Local tradition had it that the place held the ghosts of those who had +died in agony within its noisome dungeons; but she had always been far +too matter-of-fact to accept stories of the supernatural. Yet at that +moment her ears did not deceive her. That pile of grim, gaunt ruins was +a House of Whispers! + +Again she listened, never moving a muscle. An owl hooted weirdly in the +ivy far above her, while near, at her feet, a rabbit scuttled away +through the grass. Such noises she was used to. She knew every +night-sound of the country-side; for when she had finished her work in +the library she often went, unknown to the household, with Stewart upon +his nocturnal rounds, and walked miles through the woods in the night. +The grey-eyed, thin-nosed head-keeper was her particular favourite. He +knew so much of natural history, and he taught her all he knew. She +could distinguish the cries of birds in the night, and could tell by +certain sounds made by them, as they were disturbed, that no other +intruders were in the vicinity. But that weird whispering, coming as it +did from an undiscovered source, was inhuman and utterly uncanny. + +Was it possible that her ears had deceived her? Was it one of the omens +believed in by the superstitious? The wall whence the voices appeared to +emanate was, she knew, about seven feet thick--an outer wall of the old +keep. She was aware of this because in one of the folio tomes in the +library was a picture of the castle as it appeared in 1510, taken from +some manuscript of that period preserved in the British Museum. She, who +had explored the ruins dozens of times, knew well that at the point +where she was standing there could be no place of concealment. Beyond +that wall, the hill, covered with bushes and brushwood, descended sheer +for three hundred feet or so to the bottom of the glen. Had the voices +sounded from one or other of the half-choked chambers which remained +more or less intact she would not have been so puzzled; but, as it was, +the weird whisperings seemed to come forth from space. Sometimes they +sounded so low that she could scarcely hear them; at others they were so +loud that she could almost distinguish the words uttered by the unseen. +Was it merely a phenomenon caused by the wind blowing through some crack +in the ponderous lichen-covered wall? + +She looked beyond at the great dark yew, the justice-tree of the +Grahams. The night was perfectly calm. Not a leaf stirred either upon +that or upon the other trees. The ivy, high above and exposed to the +slightest breath of a breeze, was motionless; only the going and coming +of the night-birds moved it. No. She decided once and for all that the +noise was that of voices, spectral voices though they might be. + +Again she strained her eyes, when still again those soft, sibilant +whisperings sounded weird and quite inexplicable. + +Slowly, and with greatest caution, she moved along beneath the wall, but +as she did so she seemed to recede from the sound. So back she went to +the spot where she had previously stood, and there again remained +listening. + +There were two distinct voices; at least that was the conclusion at +which she arrived after nearly a quarter of an hour of most minute +investigation. + +Once she fancied, in her excitement, that away in the farther corner of +the ruined courtyard she saw a slowly moving form like a thin column of +mist. Was it the Lady of Glencardine--the apparition of the hapless Lady +Jane Glencardine? But on closer inspection she decided that it was +merely due to her own distorted imagination, and dismissed it from her +mind. + +Those low, curious whisperings alone puzzled her. They were certainly +not sounds that could be made by any rodents within the walls, because +they were voices, distinctly and indisputably _voices_, which at some +moments were raised in argument, and then fell away into sounds of +indistinct murmuring. Whence did they come? She again moved noiselessly +from place to place, at length deciding that only at one point--the +point where she had first stood--could the sounds be heard distinctly. +So to that spot once more the girl returned, standing there like a +statue, her ears strained for every sound, waiting and wondering. But +the Whispers had now ceased. In the distance the stable-clock chimed +two. Yet she remained at her post, determined to solve the mystery, and +not in the least afraid of those weird stories which the country-folk in +the Highlands so entirely believed. No ghost, of whatever form, could +frighten her, she told herself. She had never believed in omens or +superstitions, and she steeled herself not to believe in them now. So +she remained there in patience, seeking some natural solution of the +extraordinary enigma. + +But though she waited until the chimes rang out three o'clock and the +moon was going down, she heard no other sound. The Whispers had suddenly +ended, and the silence of those gaunt, frowning old walls was +undisturbed. A slight wind had now sprung up, sweeping across the hills, +and causing her to feel chill. Therefore, at last she was reluctantly +compelled to quit her post of observation, and retrace her steps by the +rough byroad to the house, entering by one of the windows of the +morning-room, of which the burglar-alarm was broken, and which on many +occasions she had unfastened after her nocturnal rambles with Stewart. +Indeed, concealed under the walls she kept an old rusted table-knife, +and by its aid it was her habit to push back the catch and so gain +entrance, after reconcealing the knife for use on a future occasion. + +On reaching her own room she stood for a few moments reflecting deeply +upon her remarkable and inexplicable discovery. Had the story of those +whisperings been told to her she would certainly have scouted them; but +she had heard them with her own ears, and was certain that she had not +been deceived. It was a mystery, absolute and complete; and, regarding +it as such, she retired to bed. + +But her thoughts were very naturally full of the weird story told of the +dead and gone owners of Glencardine. She recollected that horrible story +of the Ghaist of Manse and of the spectre of Bridgend. In the library +she had, a year ago, discovered a strange old book--one which sixty +years before had been in universal circulation--entitled _Satan's +Invisible World Discovered_, and she had read it from beginning to end. +This book had, perhaps, more influence upon the simple-minded country +people in Scotland than any other work. It consisted entirely of +relations of ghosts of murdered persons, witches, warlocks, and fairies; +and as it was read as an indoor amusement in the presence of children, +and followed up by unfounded tales of the same description, the +youngsters were afraid to turn round in case they might be grasped by +the "Old One." So strong, indeed, became this impression that even +grown-up people would not venture, through fear, into another room or +down a stair after nightfall. + +Her experience in the old castle had, to say the least, been remarkable. +Those weird whisperings were extraordinary. For hours she lay reflecting +upon the many traditions of the old place, some recorded in the historic +notices of the House of the Montrose, and others which had gathered from +local sources--the farmers of the neighbourhood, the keepers, and +servants. Those noises in the night were mysterious and puzzling. + +Next morning she went alone to the kennels to find Stewart and to +question him. He had told her many weird stories and traditions of the +old place, and it struck her that he might be able to furnish her with +some information regarding her strange discovery. Had anyone else heard +those Whispers besides herself, she wondered. + +She met several of the guests, but assiduously avoided them, until at +last she saw the thin, long-legged keeper going towards his cottage with +Dash, the faithful old spaniel, at his heels. + +When she hailed him he touched his cap respectfully, changed his gun to +the other arm, and wished her "Guid-mornin', Miss Gabrielle," in his +strong Scotch accent. + +She bade him put down his gun and walk with her up the hill towards the +ruins. + +"Look here, Stewart," she commanded in a confidential tone, "I'm going +to take you into my confidence. I know I can trust you with a secret." + +"Ye may, miss," replied the keen-eyed Scot. "I houp Sir Henry trusts me +as a faithfu' servant. I've been on Glencardine estate noo, miss, thae +forty year." + +"Stewart, we all know you are faithful, and that you can keep your +tongue still. What I'm about to tell you is in strictest confidence. Not +even my father knows it." + +"Ah! then it's a secret e'en frae the laird, eh?" + +"Yes," she replied. "I want you to come up to the old castle with me," +pointing to the great ruined pile standing boldly in the summer +sunlight, "and I want you to tell me all you know. I've had a very +uncanny experience there." + +"What, miss!" exclaimed the man, halting and looking her seriously in +the face; "ha'e ye seen the ghaist?" + +"No, I haven't seen any ghost," replied the girl; "but last night I +heard most extraordinary sounds, as though people were within the old +walls." + +"Guid sake, miss! an' ha'e ye actually h'ard the Whispers?" he gasped. + +"Then other people have heard them, eh?" inquired the girl quickly. +"Tell me all you know about the matter, Stewart." + +"A'?" he said, slowly shaking his head. "I ken but a wee bittie aboot +the noises." + +"Who has heard them besides myself?" + +"Maxwell o'Tullichuil's girl. She said she h'ard the Whispers ae nicht +aboot a year syne. They're a bad omen, miss, for the lassie deed sudden +a fortnicht later." + +"Did anyone else hear them?" + +"Auld Willie Buchan, wha lived doon in Auchterarder village, declared +that ae nicht, while poachin' for rabbits, he h'ard the voices. He telt +the doctor sae when he lay in bed a-deein' aboot three weeks +aifterwards. Ay, miss, I'm sair sorry ye've h'ard the Whispers." + +"Then they're regarded as a bad omen to those who overhear them?" she +remarked. + +"That's sae. There's bin ithers wha acted as eavesdroppers, an' they a' +deed very sune aifterwards. There was Jean Kirkwood an' Geordie +Menteith. The latter was a young keeper I had here aboot a year syne. He +cam' tae me ae mornin' an' said that while lyin' up for poachers the +nicht afore, he distinc'ly h'ard the Whispers. Kennin' what folk say +aboot the owerhearin' o' them bein' fatal, I lauched at 'im an' told 'im +no' to tak' ony tent o' auld wives' gossip. But, miss, sure enough, +within a week he got blood-pizinin', an', though they took 'im to the +hospital in Perth, he deed." + +"Then popular superstition points to the fact that anyone who +accidentally acts as eavesdropper is doomed to death, eh? A very nice +outlook for me!" she remarked. + +"Oh, Miss Gabrielle!" exclaimed the man, greatly concerned, "dinna treat +the maitter lichtly, I beg o' ye. I did, wi' puir Menteith, an' he deed +juist like the ithers." + +"But what does it all mean?" asked the daughter of the house in a calm, +matter-of-fact voice. She knew well that Stewart was just as +superstitious as any of his class, for some of the stories he had told +her had been most fearful and wonderful elaborations of historical fact. + +"It means, I'm fear'd, miss," he replied, "that the Whispers which come +frae naewhere are fore-warnin's o' daith." + + + +CHAPTER XII + +EXPLAINS SOME CURIOUS FACTS + +Gabrielle was silent for a moment. No doubt Stewart meant what he said; +he was not endeavouring to alarm her unduly, but thoroughly believed in +supernatural agencies. "I suppose you've already examined the ruins +thoroughly, eh?" she asked at last. + +"Examined them?" echoed the gray-bearded man. "I should think sae, +aifter forty-odd years here. Why, as a laddie I used to play there ilka +day, an' ha'e been in ilka neuk an' cranny." + +"Nevertheless, come up now with me," she said. "I want to explain to you +exactly where and how I heard the voices." + +"The Whispers are an uncanny thing," said the keeper, with his broad +accent. "I dinna like them, miss; I dinna like tae hear what ye tell me +ava." + +"Oh, don't worry about me, Stewart," she laughed. "I'm not afraid of any +omen. I only mean to fathom the mystery, and I want your assistance in +doing so. But, of course, you'll say no word to a soul. Remember that." + +"If it be yer wush, Miss Gabrielle, I'll say naething," he promised. And +together they descended the steep grass-slope and overgrown foundations +of the castle until they stood in the old courtyard, close to the +ancient justice-tree, the exact spot where the girl had stood on the +previous night. + +"I could hear plainly as I stood just here," she said. "The sound of +voices seemed to come from that wall there"; and she pointed to the gray +flint wall, half-overgrown with ivy, about six yards away. + +Stewart made no remark. It was not the first occasion on which he had +examined that place in an attempt to solve the mystery of the nocturnal +whisperings. He walked across to the wall, tapping it with his hand, +while the faithful spaniel began sniffing in expectancy of something to +bolt. "There's naething here, miss--absolutely naething," he declared, +as they both examined the wall minutely. Its depth did not admit of any +chamber, for it was an inner wall; and, according to the gamekeeper's +statement, he had already tested it years ago, and found it solid +masonry. + +"If I went forward or backward, then the sounds were lost to me," +Gabrielle explained, much puzzled. + +"Ay. That's juist what they a' said," remarked the keeper, with an +apprehensive look upon his face. "The Whispers are only h'ard at ae +spot, whaur ye've juist stood. I've seen the lady a' in green masel', +miss--aince when I was a laddie, an' again aboot ten year syne." + +"You mean, Stewart, that you imagined that you saw an apparition. You +were alone, I suppose?" + +"Yes, miss, I was alane." + +"Well, you thought you saw the Lady of Glencardine. Where was she?" + +"On the drive, in front o' the hoose." + +"Perhaps somebody played a practical joke on you. The Green Lady is +Glencardine's favourite spectre, isn't she--perfectly harmless, I mean?" + +"Ay, miss. Lots o' folk saw her ten year syne. But nooadays she seems to +ha'e been laid. Somebody said they saw her last Glesca holidays, but I +dinna believe 't." + +"Neither do I, Stewart. But don't let's trouble about the unfortunate +lady, who ought to have been at rest long ago. It's those weird +whisperings I mean to investigate." And she looked blankly around her at +the great, cyclopean walls and high, weather-beaten towers, gaunt yet +picturesque in the morning sunshine. + +The keeper shook his shaggy head. "I'm afear'd, Miss Gabrielle, that +ye'll ne'er solve the mystery. There's somethin' sae fatal aboot the +whisperin's," he said, speaking in his pleasant Highland tongue, "that +naebody cares tae attempt the investigation. They div say that the +Whispers are the voice o' the De'il himsel'." + +The girl, in her short blue serge skirt, white cotton blouse, and blue +tam-o'-shanter, laughed at the man's dread. There must be a distinct +cause for this noise she had heard, she argued. Yet, though they both +spent half-an-hour wandering among the ruins, standing in the roofless +banqueting hall, and traversing stone corridors and lichen-covered, +moss-grown, ruined chambers choked with weeds, their efforts to obtain +any clue were all in vain. + +To Gabrielle it was quite evident that the old keeper regarded the +incident of the previous night as a fatal omen, for he was most +solicitous of her welfare. He went so far as to crave permission to go +to Sir Henry and put the whole of the mysterious facts before him. + +But she would not hear of it. She meant to solve the mystery herself. If +her father learnt of the affair, and of the ill-omen connected with it, +the matter would surely cause him great uneasiness. Why should he be +worried on her account? No, she would never allow it, and told Stewart +plainly of her disapproval of such a course. + +"But, tell me," she asked at last, as returning to the courtyard, they +stood together at the spot where she had stood in that moonlit hour and +heard with her own ears those weird, mysterious voices coming from +nowhere--"tell me, Stewart, is there any legend connected with the +Whispers? Have you ever heard any story concerning their origin?" + +"Of coorse, miss. Through all Perthshire it's weel kent," replied the +man slowly, not, it seemed, without considerable reluctance. "What is +h'ard by those doomed tae daith is the conspiracy o' Charles Lord +Glencardine an' the Earl o' Kintyre for the murder o' the infamous +Cardinal Setoun o' St. Andrews, wha, as I dare say ye ken fra history, +miss, was assassinated here, on this very spot whaur we stan'. The Earl +o' Kintyre, thegither wi' Lord Glencardine, his dochter Mary, an' ane o' +the M'Intyres o' Talnetry, an' Wemyss o' Strathblane, were a year later +tried by a commission issued under the name o' Mary Queen o' Scots; but +sae popular was the murder o' the Cardinal that the accused were +acquitted." + +"Yes," exclaimed the girl, "I remember reading something about it in +Scottish history. And the Whispers are, I suppose, said to be the +ghostly conspirators in conclave." + +"That's what folk say, miss. They div say as weel that Auld Nick himsel' +was present, an' gied the decision that the Cardinal, wha was to be +askit ower frae Stirlin', should dee. It is his evil counsel that is +h'ard by those whom death will quickly overtake." + +"Really, Stewart," she laughed, "you make me feel quite uncomfortable." + +"But, miss, Sir Henry already kens a' aboot the Whispers," said the man. +"I h'ard him tellin' a young gentleman wha cam' doon last shootin' +season a guid dale aboot it. They veesited the auld castle thegither, +an' I happened tae be hereaboots." + +This caused the girl to resolve to learn from her father what she could. +He was an antiquary, and had the history of Glencardine at his +finger-ends. + +So presently she strolled back to Stewart's cottage, and after receiving +from the faithful servant urgent injunctions to "have a care" of +herself, she walked on to the tennis-lawn, where, shaded by the high +trees, Lady Heyburn, in white serge, and three of her male guests were +playing. + +"Father," she said that same evening, when they had settled down to +commence work upon those ever-arriving documents from Paris, "what was +the cause of Glencardine becoming a ruin?" + +"Well, the reason of its downfall was Lord Glencardine's change of +front," he answered. "In 1638 he became a stalwart supporter of +Episcopacy and Divine Right, a course which proved equally fatal to +himself and to his ancient Castle of Glencardine. Reid, in his _Annals +of Auchterarder_, relates how, after the Civil War, Lord Dundrennan, in +company with his cousin, George Lochan of Ochiltree, and burgess of +Auchterarder and the Laird of M'Nab, descended into Strathearn and +occupied the castle with about fifty men. He hurriedly put it into a +state of defence. General Overton besieged the place in person, with his +army, consisting of eighteen hundred foot and eleven hundred horse, and +battered the walls with cannon, having brought a number of great +ordnance from Stirling Castle. For ten days the castle was held by the +small but resolute garrison, and might have held out longer had not the +well failed. With the prospect of death before them in the event of the +place being taken, Dundrennan and Lochan contrived to break through the +enemy, who surrounded the castle on all sides. A page of the name of +John Hamilton, in attendance upon Lord Dundrennan, well acquainted with +the localities of Glencardine, undertook to be their guide. When the +moon was down, Dundrennan and Lochan issued from the castle by a small +postern, where they found Hamilton waiting for them with three horses. +They mounted, and, passing quietly through the enemy's force, they +escaped, and reached Lord Glencardine in safety to the north. On the +morning after their escape the castle was surrendered, and thirty-five +of the garrison were sent to the Tolbooth of Edinburgh. General Overton +ordered the remaining twelve of those who had surrendered to be shot at +a post, and the castle to be burned, which was accordingly done." + +"The country-folk in the neighbourhood are full of strange stories about +ghostly whisperings being heard in the castle ruins," she remarked. + +Her father started, and raising his expressionless face to hers, asked +in almost a snappish tone, "Well, and who has heard them now, pray?" + +"Several people, I believe." + +"And they're gossiping as usual, eh?" he remarked in a hard, dry tone. +"Up here in the Highlands they are ridiculously superstitious. Who's +been telling you about the Whispers, child?" + +"Oh, I've learnt of them from several people," she replied evasively. +"Mysterious voices were heard, they say, last night, and for several +nights previously. It's also a local tradition that all those who hear +the whispered warning die within forty days." + +"Bosh, my dear! utter rubbish!" the old man laughed. "Who's been trying +to frighten you?" + +"Nobody, dad. I merely tell you what the country people say." + +"Yes," he remarked, "I know. The story is a gruesome one, and in the +Highlands a story is not attractive unless it has some fatality in it. +Up here the belief in demonology and witchcraft has died very hard. Get +down Penny's _Traditions of Perth_--first shelf to the left beyond the +second window, right-hand corner. It will explain to you how very +superstitious the people have ever been." + +"I know all that, dad," persisted the girl; "but I'm interested in this +extraordinary story of the Whispers. You, as an antiquary, have, no +doubt, investigated all the legendary lore connected with Glencardine. +The people declare that the Whispers are heard, and, I am told, believe +some extraordinary theory regarding them." + +"A theory!" he exclaimed quickly. "What theory? What has been +discovered?" + +"Nothing, as far as I know." + +"No, and nothing ever will be discovered," he said. + +"Why not, dad?" she asked. "Do you deny that strange noises are heard +there when there is so much evidence in the affirmative?" + +"I really don't know, my dear. I've never had the pleasure of hearing +them myself, though I've been told of them ever since I bought the +place." + +"But there is a legend which is supposed to account for them, is there +not, dad? Do tell me what you know," she urged. "I'm so very much +interested in the old place and its bygone history." + +"The less you know concerning the Whispers the better, my dear," he +replied abruptly. + +Her father's ominous words surprised her. Did he, too, believe in the +fatal omen, though he was trying to mislead her and poke fun at the +local superstition? + +"But why shouldn't I know?" she protested. "This is the first time, dad, +that you've tried to withhold from me any antiquarian knowledge that you +possess. Besides, the story of Glencardine and its lords is intensely +fascinating to me." + +"So might be the Whispers, if ever you had the misfortune to hear them." + +"Misfortune!" she gasped, turning pale. "Why do you say misfortune?" + +But he laughed a strange, hollow laugh, and, endeavouring to turn his +seriousness into humour, said, "Well, they might give you a turn, +perhaps. They would make me start, I feel sure. From what I've been +told, they seem to come from nowhere. It is practically an unseen +spectre who has the rather unusual gift of speech." + +It was on the tip of her tongue to explain how, on the previous night, +she had actually listened to the Whispers. But she refrained. She +recognised that, though he would not admit it, he was nevertheless +superstitious of ill results following the hearing of those weird +whisperings. So she made eager pretence of wishing to know the +historical facts of the incident referred to by the gamekeeper. + +"No," exclaimed the blind man softly but firmly, taking her hand and +stroking her arm tenderly, as was his habit when he wished to persuade +her. "No, Gabrielle dear," he said; "we will change the subject now. Do +not bother your head about absurd country legends of that sort. There +are so many concerning Glencardine and its lords that a whole volume +might be filled with them." + +"But I want to know all about this particular one, dad," she said. + +"From me you will never know, my dear," was his answer, as his gray, +serious face was upturned to hers. "You have never heard the Whispers, +and I sincerely hope that you never will." + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +WHAT FLOCKART FORESAW + +The following afternoon was glaring and breathless. Gabrielle had taken +Stokes, with May Spencer (a girl friend visiting her mother), and driven +the "sixteen" over to Connachan with a message from her mother--an +invitation to Lady Murie and her party to luncheon and tennis on the +following day. It was three o'clock, the hour when silence is upon a +summer house-party in the country. Beneath the blazing sun Glencardine +lay amid its rose-gardens, its cut beech-hedges, and its bowers of +greenery. The palpitating heat was terrible--the hottest day that +summer. + +At the end of the long, handsome drawing-room, with its pale blue carpet +and silk-covered furniture, Lady Heyburn was lolling lazily in her chair +near the wide, bright steel grate, with her inseparable friend, James +Flockart, standing before her. + +The striped blinds outside the three long, open windows subdued the +sun-glare, yet the very odour of the cut flowers in the room seemed +oppressive, while without could be heard the busy hum of insect life. + +The Baronet's handsome wife looked cool and comfortable in her gown of +white embroidered muslin, her head thrown back upon the silken cushion, +and her eyes raised to those of the man, who was idly smoking a +cigarette, at her side. + +"The thing grows more and more inexplicable," he was saying to her in a +low, strained voice. "All the inquiries I've caused to be made in London +and in Paris have led to a negative result." + +"We shall only know the truth when we get a peep of those papers in +Henry's safe, my dear friend," was the woman's reply. + +"And that's a pretty difficult job. You don't know where the old fellow +keeps the key?" + +"I only wish I did. Gabrielle knows, no doubt." + +"Then you ought to compel her to divulge," he urged. "Once we get hold +of that key for half-an-hour, we could learn a lot." + +"A lot that would be useful to you, eh?" remarked the woman, with a +meaning smile. + +"And to you also," he said. "Couldn't we somehow watch and see where he +hides the safe-key? He never has it upon him, you say." + +"It isn't on his bunch." + +"Then he must have a hiding-place for it, or it may be on his +watch-chain," remarked the man decisively. "Get rid of all the guests as +quickly as you can, Winnie. While they're about there's always a danger +of eavesdroppers and of watchers." + +"I've already announced that I'm going up to Inverness next week, so +within the next day or two our friends will all leave." + +"Good! Then the ground will be cleared for action," he remarked, blowing +a cloud of smoke from his lips. "What's your decision regarding the +girl?" + +"The same as yours." + +"But she hates me, you know," laughed the man in gray flannel. + +"Yes; but she fears you at the same time, and with her you can do more +by fear than by love." + +"True. But she's got a spirit of her own, recollect." + +"That must be broken." + +"And what about Walter?" + +"Oh, as soon as he finds out the truth he'll drop her, never fear. He's +already rather fond of that tall, dark girl of Dundas's. You saw her at +the ball. You recollect her?" + +Flockart grunted. He was assisting this woman at his side to play a +desperate game. This was not, however, the first occasion on which they +had acted in conjunction in matters that were not altogether honourable. +There had never been any question of affection between them. The pair +regarded each other from a purely business standpoint. People might +gossip as much as ever they liked; but the two always congratulated +themselves that they had never committed the supreme folly of falling in +love with each other. The woman had married Sir Henry merely in order to +obtain money and position; and this man Flockart, who for years had been +her most intimate associate, had ever remained behind her, to advise and +to help her. + +Perhaps had the Baronet not been afflicted he would have disapproved of +this constant companionship, for he would, no doubt, have overheard in +society certain tittle-tattle which, though utterly unfounded, would not +have been exactly pleasant. But as he was blind and never went into +society, he remained in blissful ignorance, wrapped up in his mysterious +"business" and his hobbies. + +Gabrielle, on her return from school, had at first accepted Flockart as +her friend. It was he who took her for walks, who taught her to cast a +fly, to shoot rooks, and to play the national winter game of +Scotland--curling. He had in the first few months of her return home +done everything in his power to attract the young girl's friendship, +while at the same time her ladyship showed herself extraordinarily well +disposed towards her. + +Within a year, however, by reason of various remarks made by people in +her presence, and on account of the cold disdain with which Lady Heyburn +treated her afflicted father, vague suspicions were aroused within her, +suspicions which gradually grew to hatred, until she clung to her +father, and, as his eyes and ears, took up a position of open defiance +towards her mother and her adventurous friend. + +The situation each day grew more and more strained. Lady Heyburn was, +even though of humble origin, a woman of unusual intelligence. In +various quarters she had been snubbed and ridiculed, but she gradually +managed in every case to get the better of her enemies. Many a man and +many a woman had had bitter cause to repent their enmity towards her. +They marvelled how their secrets became known to her. + +They did not know the power behind her--the sinister power of that +ingenious and unscrupulous man, James Flockart--the man who made it his +business to know other people's secrets. Though for years he had been +seized with a desire to get at the bottom of Sir Henry's private +affairs, he had never succeeded. The old Baronet was essentially a +recluse; he kept himself so much to himself, and was so careful that no +eyes save those of his daughter should see the mysterious documents +which came to him so regularly by registered post, that all Flockart's +efforts and those of Lady Heyburn had been futile. + +"I had another good look at the safe this morning," the man went on +presently. "It is one of the best makes, and would resist anything, +except, of course, the electric current." + +"To force it would be to put Henry on his guard," Lady Heyburn remarked, +"If we are to know what secrets are there, and use our knowledge for our +own benefit, we must open it with a key and relock it." + +"Well, Winnie, we must do something. We must both have money--that's +quite evident," he said. "That last five hundred you gave me will stave +off ruin for a week or so. But after that we must certainly be well +supplied, or else there may be revelations well--which will be as ugly +for yourself as for me." + +"I know," she exclaimed. "I fully realise the necessity of getting +funds. The other affair, though we worked it so well, proved a miserable +fiasco." + +"And very nearly gave us away into the bargain," he declared. "I tell +you frankly, Winnie, that if we can't pay a level five thousand in three +weeks' time the truth will be out, and you know what that will mean." + +He was watching her handsome face as he spoke, and he noticed how pale +and drawn were her features as he referred to certain ugly truths that +might leak out. + +"Yes," she gasped, "I know, James. We'd both find ourselves under +arrest. Such a _contretemps_ is really too terrible to think of." + +"But, my dear girl, it must be faced," he said, "if we don't get the +money. Can't you work Sir Henry for a bit more, say another thousand. +Make an excuse that you have bills to pay in London--dressmakers, +jewellers, milliners--any good story will surely do. He gives you +anything you ask for." + +She shook her head and sighed. "I fear I've imposed upon his good-nature +far too much already," she answered. "I know I'm extravagant; I'm sorry, +but can't help it. Born in me, I suppose. A few months ago he found out +that I'd been paying Mellish a hundred pounds each time to decorate Park +Street with flowers for my Wednesday evenings, and he created an awful +scene. He's getting horribly stingy of late." + +"Yes; but the flowers were a bit expensive, weren't they?" he remarked. + +"Not at all. Lady Fortrose, the wife of the soap-man, pays two hundred +and fifty pounds for flowers for her house every Thursday in the season; +and mine looked quite as good as hers. I think Mellish is much cheaper +than anybody else. And, just because I went to a cheap man, Henry was +horrible. He said all sorts of weird things about my reckless +extravagance and the suffering poor--as though I had anything to do with +them. The genuine poor are really people like you and me." + +"I know," he said philosophically, lighting another cigarette. "But all +this is beside the point. We want money, and money we must have in order +to avoid exposure. You--" + +"I was a fool to have had anything to do with that other little affair," +she interrupted. + +"It was not only myself who arranged it. Remember, it was you who +suggested it, because it seemed so easy, and because you had an old +score to pay off." + +"The woman was sacrificed, and at the same time an enemy learnt our +secret." + +"I couldn't help it," he protested. "You let your woman's vindictiveness +overstep your natural caution, my dear girl. If you'd taken my advice +there would have been no suspicion." + +Lady Heyburn was silent. She sat regarding the toe of her patent-leather +shoe fixedly, in deep reflection. She was powerless to protest, she was +so entirely in this man's hands. "Well," she asked at last, stirring +uneasily in her chair, "and suppose we are not able to raise the money, +what do you anticipate will be the result?" + +"A rapid reprisal," was his answer. "People like them don't +hesitate--they act." + +"Yes, I see," she remarked in a blank voice. "They have nothing to lose, +so they will bring pressure upon us." + +"Just as we once tried to bring pressure upon them. It's all a matter of +money. We pay the price arranged--a mere matter of business." + +"But how are we to get money?" + +"By getting a glance at what's in that safe," he replied. "Once we get +to know this mysterious secret of Sir Henry's, I and my friends can get +money easily enough. Leave it all to me." + +"But how--" + +"This matter you will please leave entirely to me, Winnie," he repeated +with determination. "We are both in danger--great danger; and that being +so, it is incumbent upon me to act boldly and fearlessly. I mean to get +the key, and see what is within that safe." + +"But the girl?" asked her ladyship. + +"Within one week from to-day the girl will no longer trouble us," he +said with an evil glance. "I do not intend that she shall remain a +barrier against our good fortune any longer. Understand that, and remain +perfectly calm, whatever may happen." + +"But you surely don't intend--you surely will not--" + +"I shall act as I think proper, and without any sentimental advice from +you," he declared with a mock bow, but straightening himself instantly +when at the door was heard a fumbling, and the gray-bearded man in blue +spectacles, his thin white hand groping before him, slowly entered the +room. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +CONCERNS THE CURSE OF THE CARDINAL + +Gabrielle and Walter were seated together under one of the big oaks at +the edge of the tennis-lawn at Connachan. With May Spencer and Lady +Murie they had been playing; but his mother and the young girl had gone +into the house for tea, leaving the lovers alone. + +"What's the matter with you to-day, darling?" he had asked as soon as +they were out of hearing. "You don't seem yourself, somehow." + +She started quickly, and, pulling herself up, tried to smile, assuring +him that there was really nothing amiss. + +"I do wish you'd tell me what it is that's troubling you so," he said. +"Ever since I returned from abroad you've not been yourself. It's no use +denying it, you know." + +"I haven't felt well, perhaps. I think it must be the weather," she +assured him. + +But he, viewing the facts in the light of what he had noticed at their +almost daily clandestine meetings, knew that she was concealing +something from him. + +Before his departure on that journey to Japan she had always been so +very frank and open. Nowadays, however, she seemed to have entirely +changed. Her love for him was just the same--that he knew; it was her +unusual manner, so full of fear and vague apprehension, which caused him +so many hours of grave reflection. + +With her woman's cleverness, she succeeded in changing the topic of +conversation, and presently they rose to join his mother at the +tea-table in the drawing-room. + +Half-an-hour later, while they were idling in the hall together, she +suddenly exclaimed, "Walter, you're great on Scottish history, so I want +some information from you. I'm studying the legends and traditions of +our place, Glencardine. What do you happen to know about them?" + +"Well," he laughed, "there are dozens of weird tales about the old +castle. I remember reading quite a lot of extraordinary stories in some +book or other about three years ago. I found it in the library here." + +"Oh! do tell me all about it," she urged instantly. "Weird legends +always fascinate me. Of course I know just the outlines of its history. +It's the tales told by the country-folk in which I'm so deeply +interested." + +"You mean the apparition of the Lady in Green, and all that?" + +"Yes; and the Whispers." + +He started quickly at her words, and asked, "What do you know about +them, dear? I hope you haven't heard them?" + +She smiled, with a frantic effort at unconcern, saying, "And what harm, +pray, would they have done me, even if I had?" + +"Well," he said, "they are only heard by those whose days are numbered; +at least, so say the folk about here." + +"Of course, it's only a fable," she laughed. "The people of the Ochils +are so very superstitious." + +"I believe the fatal result of listening to those mysterious Whispers +has been proved in more than one instance," remarked the young man quite +seriously. "For myself, I do not believe in any supernatural agency. I +merely tell you what the people hereabouts believe. Nobody from this +neighbourhood could ever be induced to visit your ruins on a moonlit +night." + +"That's just why I want to know the origin of the unexplained +phenomenon." + +"How can I tell you?" + +"But you know--I mean you've heard the legend, haven't you?" + +"Yes," was his reply. "The story of the Whispers of Glencardine is well +known all through Perthshire. Hasn't your father ever told you?" + +"He refuses." + +"Because, no doubt, he fears that you might perhaps take it into your +head to go there one night and try to listen for them," her lover said. +"Do not court misfortune, dearest. Take my advice, and give the place a +very wide berth. There is, without a doubt, some uncanny agency there." + +The girl laughed outright. "I do declare, Walter, that you believe in +these foolish traditions," she said. + +"Well, I'm a Scot, you see, darling, and a little superstition is +perhaps permissible, especially in connection with such a mystery as the +strange disappearance of Cardinal Setoun." + +"Then, tell me the real story as you know it," she urged. "I'm much +interested. I only heard about the Whispers quite recently." + +"The historical facts, so far as I can recollect reading them in the +book in question," he said, "are to the effect that the Most Reverend +James Cardinal Setoun, Archbishop of St. Andrews, Chancellor of the +Kingdom, was in the middle of the sixteenth century directing all his +energies towards consolidating the Romish power in Scotland, and not +hesitating to resort to any crime which seemed likely to accomplish his +purpose. Many were the foul assassinations and terrible tortures upon +innocent persons performed at his orders. One person who fell into the +hands of this infamous cleric was Margaret, the second daughter of +Charles, Lord Glencardine, a beautiful girl of nineteen. Because she +would not betray her lover, she was so cruelly tortured in the +Cardinal's palace that she expired, after suffering fearful agony, and +her body was sent back to Glencardine with an insulting message to her +father, who at once swore to be avenged. The king had so far resigned +the conduct of the kingdom into the hands of his Eminence that nothing +save armed force could oppose him. Setoun knew that a union between +Henry VIII. and James V. would be followed by the downfall of the papal +power in Scotland, and therefore he laid a skilful plot. Whilst advising +James to resist the dictation of his uncle, he privately accused those +of the Scottish nobles who had joined the Reformers of meditated treason +against His Majesty. This placed the king in a serious dilemma, for he +could not proceed against Henry without the assistance of those very +nobles accused as traitors. The wily Cardinal had hoped that James +would, in self-defence, seek an alliance with France and Spain; but he +was mistaken. You know, of course, how the forces of the kingdom were +assembled and sent against the Duke of Norfolk. The invader was thus +repelled, and the Cardinal then endeavoured to organise a new expedition +under Romish leaders. This also failing, his Eminence endeavoured to +dictate to the country through the Earl of Arran, the Governor of +Scotland. By a clever ruse he pretended friendship with Erskine of Dun, +and endeavoured to use him for his own ends. Curiously enough, over +yonder"--and he pointed to a yellow parchment in a black ebony frame +hanging upon the panelled wall of the hall--"over there is one of the +Cardinal's letters to Erskine, which shows the infamous cleric's smooth, +insinuating style when it suited his purpose. I'll go and get it for you +to read." + +The young man rose, and, taking it down, brought it to her. She saw that +the parchment, about eight inches long by four wide, was covered with +writing in brown ink, half-faded, while attached was a formidable oval +red seal which bore a coat of arms surmounting the Cardinal's hat. + +With difficulty they made out this interesting letter to read as +follows: + +"RYCHT HONOURABLE AND TRAIST COUSING,--I commend me hartlie to you, +nocht doutting bot my lord governour hes written specialye to you at +this tyme to keep the diet with his lordship in Edinburgh the first day +of November nixt to cum, quhilk I dout nocht bot ye will kepe, and I +know perfitlie your guid will and mynd euer inclinit to serue my lord +governour, and how ye are nocht onnely determinit to serue his lordship, +at this tyme be yourself bot als your gret wais and solistatioun maid +with mony your gret freyndis to do the samin, quhilk I assuris you sall +cum bayth to your hier honour and the vele of you and your houss and +freyndis, quhilk ye salbe sure I sall procure and fortyfie euir at my +power, as I have shewin in mair speciale my mynd heirintil to your +cousin of Brechin, Knycht: Praing your effectuously to kepe trist, and +to be heir in Sanct Androwis at me this nixt Wedinsday, that we may +depairt all togydder by Thurisday nixt to cum, towart my lord governour, +and bring your frendis and servandis with you accordantly, and as my +lord governour hais speciale confidence in you at this tyme; and be sure +the plesour I can do you salbe evir reddy at my power as knawis God, +quha preserve you eternall. + +"At Sanct Androwis, the 25th day of October (1544). J. CARDINALL OFF +SANCT ANDROWIS. + +"To the rycht honourable and our rycht traist cousing the lard of Dvn." + +"Most interesting!" declared the young girl, holding the frame in her +hands. + +"It's doubly interesting, because it is believed that Erskine's brother +Henry, finding himself befooled by the crafty Cardinal, united with Lord +Glencardine to kill him and dispose of his body secretly, thus ridding +Scotland of one of her worst enemies," Walter went on. "For the past +five years stories had been continually leaking out of Setoun's inhuman +cruelty, his unscrupulous, fiendish tortures inflicted upon all those +who displeased him, and how certain persons who stood in his way had +died mysteriously or disappeared, no one knew whither. Hence it was +that, at Erskine's suggestion, Wemyss of Strathblane went over to +Glencardine, and with Charles, Lord Glencardine, conspired to invite the +Cardinal there, on pretence of taking counsel against the Protestants, +but instead to take his life. The conspirators were, it is said, joined +by the Earl of Kintyre and by Mary, the sixteen-year-old daughter of +Lord Charles, and sister of the poor girl so brutally done to death by +his Eminence. On several successive nights the best means of getting rid +of Setoun were considered and discussed, and it is declared that the +Whispers now heard sometimes at Glencardine are the secret deliberations +of those sworn to kill the infamous Cardinal. Mary, the daughter of the +house, was allowed to decide in what manner her sister's death should be +avenged, and at her suggestion it was resolved that the inhuman head of +the Roman Church should, before his life was taken, be put to the same +fiendish tortures as those to which her sister had been subjected in his +palace." + +"It is curious that after his crime the Cardinal should dare to visit +Glencardine," Gabrielle remarked. + +"Not exactly. His lordship, pretending that he wished to be appointed +Governor of Scotland in the place of the Earl of Arran, had purposely +made his peace with Setoun, who on his part was only too anxious to +again resume friendly relations with so powerful a noble. Therefore, +early in May, 1546, he went on a private visit, and almost unattended, +to Glencardine, within the walls of which fortress he disappeared for +ever. What exactly occurred will never be known. All that the Commission +who subsequently sat to try the conspirators were able to discover was +that the Cardinal had been taken to the dungeon beneath the north tower, +and there tortured horribly for several days, and afterwards burned at +the stake in the courtyard, the fire being ignited by Lord Glencardine +himself, and the dead Cardinal's ashes afterwards scattered to the +winds." + +"A terrible revenge!" exclaimed the girl with a shudder. "They were +veritable fiends in those days." + +"They were," he laughed, rehanging the frame upon the wall. "Some +historians have, of course, declared that Setoun was murdered at Mains +Castle, and others declare Cortachy to have been the scene of the +assassination; but the truth that it occurred at Glencardine is proved +by a quantity of the family papers which, when your father purchased +Glencardine, came into his possession. You ought to search through +them." + +"I will. I had no idea dad possessed any of the Glencardine papers," she +declared, much interested in that story of the past. "Perhaps from them +I may be able to glean something further regarding the strange Whispers +of Glencardine." + +"Make whatever searches you like, dearest," he said in all earnestness, +"but never attempt to investigate the Whispers themselves." And as they +were alone, he took her little hand in his, and looking into her face +with eyes of love, pressed her to promise him never to disregard his +warning. + +She told him nothing of her own weird experience. He was ignorant of the +fact that she had actually heard the mysterious Whispers, and that, as a +consequence, a great evil already lay upon her. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +FOLLOWS FLOCKART'S FORTUNES + +One evening, a few days later, Gabrielle, seated beside her father at +his big writing-table, had concluded reading some reports, and had +received those brief, laconic replies which the blind man was in the +habit of giving, when she suddenly asked, "I believe, dad, that you have +a quantity of the Glencardine papers, haven't you? If I remember aright, +when you bought the castle you made possession of these papers a +stipulation." + +"Yes, dear, I did," was his answer. "I thought it a shame that the +papers of such a historic family should be dispersed at Sotheby's, as +they no doubt would have been. So I purchased them." + +"You've never let me see them," she said. "As you know, you've taught me +so much antiquarian knowledge that I'm becoming an enthusiast like +yourself." + +"You can see them, dear, of course," was his reply. "They are in that +big ebony cabinet at the end of the room yonder--about two hundred +charters, letters, and documents, dating from 1314 down to 1695." + +"I'll go through them to-morrow," she said. "I suppose they throw a good +deal of light upon the history of the Grahams and the actions of the +great Lord Glencardine?" + +"Yes; but I fear you'll find them very difficult to read," he remarked. +"Not being able to see them for myself, alas! I had to send them to +London to be deciphered." + +"And you still have the translations?" + +"Unfortunately, no, dear. Professor Petre at Oxford, who is preparing +his great work on Glencardine, begged me to let him see them, and he +still has them." + +"Well," she laughed, "I must therefore content myself with the +originals, eh? Do they throw any further light upon the secret agreement +in 1644 between the great Marquess of Glencardine, whose home was here, +and King Charles?" + +"Really, Gabrielle," laughed the old antiquary, "for a girl, your +recollection of abstruse historical points is wonderful." + +"Not at all. There was a mystery, I remember, and mysteries always +attract me." + +"Well," he replied after a few moments' hesitation, "I fear you will not +find the solution of that point, or of any other really important point, +contained in any of the papers. The most interesting records they +contain are some relating to Alexander Senescallus (Stewart), the fourth +son of Robert II., who was granted in 1379 a Castle of Garth. He was a +reprobate, and known as the Wolf of Badenoch. On his father's accession +in 1371, he was granted the charters of Badenoch, with the Castle of +Lochindorb and of Strathavon; and at a slightly later date he was +granted the lands of Tempar, Lassintulach, Tulachcroske, and Gort +(Garth). As you know, many traditions regarding him still survive; but +one fact contained in yonder papers is always interesting, for it shows +that he was confined in the dungeon of the old keep of Glencardine until +Robert III. released him. There are also a quantity of interesting facts +regarding 'Red Neil,' or Neil Stewart of Fothergill, who was Laird of +Garth, which will some day be of value to future historians of +Scotland." + +"Is there anything concerning the mysterious fate of Cardinal Setoun +within Glencardine?" asked the girl, unable to curb her curiosity. + +"No," he replied in a manner which was almost snappish. "That's a mere +tradition, my dear--simply a tale invented by the country-folk. It seems +to have been imagined in order to associate it with the mysterious +Whispers which some superstitious people claim to have heard. No old +castle is complete nowadays without its ghost, so we have for our share +the Lady of Glencardine and the Whispers," he laughed. + +"But I thought it was a matter of authenticated history that the +Cardinal was actually enticed here, and disappeared!" exclaimed the +girl. "I should have thought that the Glencardine papers would have +referred to it," she added, recollecting what Walter had told her. + +"Well, they don't; so why worry your head, dear, over a mere fable? I +have already gone very carefully into all the facts that are proved, and +have come to the conclusion that the story of the torture of his +Eminence is a fairy-tale, and that the supernatural Whispers have only +been heard in imagination." + +She was silent. She recollected that sound of murmuring voices. It was +certainly not imagination. + +"But you'll let me have the key of the cabinet, won't you, dad?" she +asked, glancing across to where stood a beautiful old Florentine cabinet +of ebony inlaid with ivory, and reaching almost to the ceiling. + +"Certainly, Gabrielle dear," was the reply of the expressionless man. +"It is upstairs in my room. You shall have it to-morrow." + +And then he lapsed again into silence, reflecting whether it were not +best to secure certain parchment records from those drawers before his +daughter investigated them. There was a small roll of yellow parchment, +tied with modern tape, which he was half-inclined to conceal from her +curious gaze. Truth to tell, they constituted a record of the torture +and death of Cardinal Setoun much in the same manner as Walter Murie had +described to her. If she read that strange chronicle she might, he +feared, be impelled to watch and endeavour to hear the fatal Whispers. + +Strange though it was, yet those sounds were a subject which caused him +daily apprehension. Though he never referred to them save to ridicule +every suggestion of their existence, or to attribute the weird noises to +the wind, yet never a day passed but he sat calmly reflecting. That one +matter which his daughter knew above all others caused him the most +serious thought and apprehension--a fear which had become doubly +increased since she had referred to the curious and apparently +inexplicable phenomenon. He, a refined, educated man of brilliant +attainments, scouted the idea of any supernatural agency. To those who +had made mention of the Whispers--among them his friend Murie, the Laird +of Connachan; Lord Strathavon, from whom he had purchased the estate; +and several of the neighbouring landowners--he had always expressed a +hope that one day he might be fortunate enough to hear the whispered +counsel of the Evil One, and so decide for himself its true cause. He +pretended always to treat the affair with humorous incredulity, yet at +heart he was sorely troubled. + +If his young wife's remarkable friendship with the man Flockart often +caused him bitter thoughts, then the mysterious Whispers and the +fatality so strangely connected with them were equally a source of +constant inquietude. + +A few days later Flockart, with clever cunning, seemed to alter his +ingenious tactics completely, for suddenly he had commenced to bestir +himself in Sir Henry's interests. One morning after breakfast, taking +the Baronet by the arm, he led him for a stroll along the drive, down to +the lodge-gates, and back, for the purpose, as he explained, of speaking +with him in confidence. + +At first the blind man was full of curiosity as to the reason of this +unusual action, as those deprived of sight usually are. + +"I know, Sir Henry," Flockart said presently, and not without +hesitation, "that certain ill-disposed people have endeavoured to place +an entirely wrong construction upon your wife's friendship towards me. +For that reason I have decided to leave Glencardine, both for her sake +and for yours." + +"But, my dear fellow," exclaimed the blind man, "why do you suggest such +a thing?" + +"Because your wife's enemies have their mouths full of scandalous lies," +he replied. "I tell you frankly, Sir Henry, that my friendship with her +ladyship is a purely platonic one. We were children together, at home in +Bedford, and ever since our schooldays I have remained her friend." + +"I know that," remarked the old man quietly. "My wife told me that when +you dined with us on several occasions at Park Street. I have never +objected to the friendship existing between you, Flockart; for, though I +have never seen you, I have always believed you to be a man of honour." + +"I feel very much gratified at those words, Sir Henry," he said in a +deep, earnest voice, glancing at the grey, dark-spectacled face of the +fragile man whose arm he was holding. "Indeed, I've always hoped that +you would repose sufficient confidence in me to know that I am not such +a blackguard as to take any advantage of your cruel affliction." + +The blind Baronet sighed. "Ah, my dear Flockart! all men are not +honourable like yourself. There are many ready to take advantage of my +lack of eyesight. I have experienced it, alas! in business as well as in +my private life." + +The dark-faced man was silent. He was playing an ingenious, if +dangerous, game. The Baronet had referred to business--his mysterious +business, the secret of which he was now trying his best to solve. +"Yes," he said at length, "I suppose the standard of honesty in business +is nowadays just about as low as it can possibly be, eh? Well, I've +never been in business myself, so I don't know. In the one or two small +financial deals in which I've had a share, I've usually been 'frozen +out' in the end." + +"Ah, Flockart," sighed the Laird of Glencardine, "you are unfortunately +quite correct. The so-called smart business man is the one who robs his +neighbour without committing the sin of being found out." + +This remark caused the other a twinge of conscience. Did he intend to +convey any hidden meaning? He was full of cunning and cleverness. +"Well," Flockart exclaimed, "I'm truly gratified to think that I retain +your confidence, Sir Henry. If I have in the past been able to be of any +little service to Lady Heyburn, I assure you I am only too delighted. +Yet I think that in the face of gossip which some of your neighbours +here are trying to spread--gossip started, I very much fear, by Miss +Gabrielle--my absence from Glencardine will be of distinct advantage to +all concerned. I do not, my dear Sir Henry, desire for one single moment +to embarrass you, or to place her ladyship in any false position. I----" + +"But, my dear fellow, you've become quite an institution with us!" +exclaimed Sir Henry in dismay. "We should all be lost without you. Why, +as you know, you've done me so many kindnesses that I can never +sufficiently repay you. I don't forget how, through your advice, I've +been able to effect quite a number of economies at Caistor, and how +often you assist my wife in various ways in her social duties." + +"My dear Sir Henry," he laughed, "you know I'm always ready to serve +either of you whenever it lies in my power. Only--well, I feel that I'm +in your wife's company far too much, both here and in Lincolnshire. +People are talking. Therefore, I have decided to leave her, and my +decision is irrevocable." + +"Let them talk. If I do not object, you surely need not." + +"But for your wife's sake?" + +"I know--I know how cruel are people's tongues, Flockart," remarked the +old man. + +"Yes; and the gossip was unfortunately started by Gabrielle. It was +surely very unwise of her." + +"Ah!" sighed the other, "it is the old story. Every girl becomes jealous +of her step-mother. And she's only a child, after all," he added +apologetically. + +"Well, much as I esteem her, and much as I admire her, I feel, Sir +Henry, that she had no right to bring discord into your house. I hope +you will permit me to say this, with all due deference to the fact that +she's your daughter. But I consider her conduct in this matter has been +very unfriendly." + +Again the Baronet was silent, and his companion saw that he was +reflecting deeply. "How do you know that the scandal was started by +her?" he asked presently, in a low, rather strained voice. + +"Young Paterson told me so. It appears that when she was staying with +them over at Tullyallan she told his mother all sorts of absurd stories. +And Mrs. Paterson who, as you know, is a terrible gossip--told the Reads +of Logie and the Redcastles, and in a few days these fictions, with all +sorts of embroidery, were spread half over Scotland. Why, my friend +Lindsay, the member for Berwick, heard some whispers the other day in +the Carlton Club! So, in consequence of that, Sir Henry, I'm resolved, +much against my will and inclination, I assure you, to end my friendship +with your wife." + +"All this pains me more than I can tell you," declared the old man. "The +more so, too, that Gabrielle should have allowed her jealousy to lead +her to make such false charges." + +"Yes. In order not to pain you. I have hesitated to tell you this for +several weeks. But I really thought that you ought at least to know the +truth, and who originated the scandal. And so I have ventured to-day to +speak openly, and to announce my departure," said the wily Flockart. He +was putting to the test the strength of his position in that household. +He had an ulterior motive, one that was ingenious and subtle. + +"But you are not really going?" exclaimed the other. "You told me the +other day something about my factor Macdonald, and your suspicions of +certain irregularities." + +"My dear Sir Henry, it will be far better for us both if I leave. To +remain will only be to lend further colour to these scandalous rumours. +I have decided to leave your house." + +"You believe that Macdonald is dishonest, eh?" inquired the afflicted +man quickly. + +"Yes, I'm certain of it. Remember, Sir Henry, that when one is dealing +with a man who is blind, it is sometimes a great temptation to be +dishonest." + +"I know, I know," sighed the other deeply. They were at a bend in the +drive where the big trees met overhead, forming a leafy tunnel. The +ascent was a trifle steep, and the Baronet had paused for a few seconds, +leaning heavily upon the arm of his friend. + +"Oh, pardon me!" exclaimed Flockart suddenly, releasing his arm. "Your +watch-chain is hanging down. Let me put it right for you." And for a few +seconds he fumbled at the chain, at the same time holding something in +the palm of his left hand. "There, that's right," he said a few minutes +later. "You caught it somewhere, I expect." + +"On one of the knobs of my writing-table perhaps," said the other. +"Thanks. I sometimes inadvertently pull it out of my pocket." + +A faint smile of triumph passed across the dark, handsome face of the +man, who again took his arm, as at the same time he replaced something +in his own jacket-pocket. He had in that instant secured what he wanted. + +"You were saying with much truth, my dear Flockart, that in dealing with +a man who cannot see there is occasionally a temptation towards +dishonesty. Well, this very day I intend to have a long chat with my +wife, but before I do so will you promise me one thing?" + +"And what is that?" asked the man, not without some apprehension. + +"That you will remain here, disregard the gossip that you may have +heard, and continue to assist me in my helplessness in making full and +searching inquiry into Macdonald's alleged defalcations." + +The man reflected for a few seconds, with knit brows. His quick wits +were instantly at work, for he saw with the utmost satisfaction that he +had been entirely successful in disarming all suspicion; therefore his +next move must be the defeat of that man's devoted defender, Gabrielle, +the one person who stood between his own penniless self and fortune. + +"I really cannot at this moment make any promise, Sir Henry," he +remarked at last. "I have decided to go." + +"But defer your decision for the present. There is surely no immediate +hurry for your departure! First let me consult my wife," urged the +Baronet, putting out his hand and groping for that of Flockart, which he +pressed warmly as proof of his continued esteem. "Let me talk to +Winifred. She shall decide whether you go or whether you shall stay." + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +SHOWS A GIRL'S BONDAGE + +Walter Murie had chosen politics as a profession long ago, even when he +was an undergraduate. He had already eaten his dinners in London, and +had been called to the Bar as the first step towards a political career. +He had a relative in the Foreign Office, while his uncle had held an +Under-Secretaryship in the late Government. Therefore he had influence, +and hoped by its aid to secure some safe seat. Already he had studied +both home and foreign affairs very closely, and had on two occasions +written articles in the _Times_ upon that most vexed and difficult +question, the pacification of Macedonia. He was a very fair speaker, +too, and on several occasions he had seconded resolutions and made quite +clever speeches at political gatherings in his own county, Perthshire. +Indeed, politics was his hobby; and, with money at his command and +influence in high quarters, there was no reason why he should not within +the next few years gain a seat in the House. With Sir Henry Heyburn he +often had long and serious chats. The brilliant politician, whose career +had so suddenly and tragically been cut short, gave him much good +advice, pointing out the special questions he should study in order to +become an authority. This is the age of specialising, and in politics it +is just as essential to be a specialist as it is in the medical, legal, +or any other profession. + +In a few days the young man was returning to his dingy chambers in the +Temple, to pore again over those mouldy tomes of law; therefore almost +daily he ran over to Glencardine to chat with the blind Baronet, and to +have quiet walks with the sweet girl who looked so dainty in her fresh +white frocks, and whose warm kisses were so soft and caressing. + +Surely no pair, even in the bygone days of knight and dame, the days of +real romance, were more devoted to each other. With satisfaction he saw +that Gabrielle's apparent indifference had now worn off. It had been but +the mask of a woman's whim, and as such he treated it. + +One afternoon, after tea out on the lawn, they were walking together by +the bypath to the lodge in order to meet Lady Heyburn, who had gone into +the village to visit a bedridden old lady. Hand-in-hand they were +strolling, for on the morrow he was going south, and would probably be +absent for some months. + +The girl had allowed herself to remain in her lover's arms in one long +kiss of perfect ecstasy. Then, with a sigh of regret, she had held his +hand and gone forward again without a word. When Walter had left, the +sun of her young life would have set, for after all it was not exactly +exciting to be the eyes and ears of a man who was blind. And there was +always at her side that man whom she hated, and who, she knew, was her +bitterest foe--James Flockart. + +Of late her father seemed to have taken him strangely into his +confidence. Why, she could not tell. A sudden change of front on the +Baronet's part was unusual; but as she watched with sinking heart she +could not conceal from herself the fact that Flockart now exercised +considerable influence over her father--an influence which in some +matters had already proved to be greater than her own. + +It was of this man Walter spoke. "I have a regret, dearest--nay, more +than a regret, a fear--in leaving you here alone," he exclaimed in a +low, distinct voice, gazing into the blue, fathomless depths of those +eyes so very dear to him. + +"A fear! Why?" she asked in some surprise, returning his look. + +"Because of that man--your mother's friend," he said. "Recently I have +heard some curious tales concerning him. I really wonder why Sir Henry +still retains him as his guest." + +"Why need we speak of him?" she exclaimed quickly, for the subject was +distasteful. + +"Because I wish you to be forewarned," he said in a serious voice. "That +man is no fitting companion for you. His past is too well known to a +certain circle." + +"His past!" she echoed. "What have you discovered concerning him?" + +Her companion did not answer for a few moments. How could he tell her +all that he had heard? His desire was to warn her, yet he could not +relate to her the allegations made by certain persons against Flockart. + +"Gabrielle," he said, "all that I have heard tends to show that his +friendship for you and for your father is false; therefore avoid +him--beware of him." + +"I--I know," she faltered, lowering her eyes. "I've felt that was the +case all along, yet I----" + +"Yet what?" he asked. + +"I mean I want you to promise me one thing, Walter," she said quickly. +"You love me, do you not?" + +"Love you, my own darling! How can you ask such a question? You surely +know that I do!" + +"Then, if you really love me, you will make me a promise." + +"Of what?" + +"Only one thing--one little thing," she said in a low, earnest voice, +looking straight into his eyes. "If--if that man ever makes an +allegation against me, you won't believe him?" + +"An allegation! Why, darling, what allegation could such a man ever make +against you?" + +"He is my enemy," she remarked simply. + +"I know that. But what charge could he bring against you? Why, if even +he dared to utter a single word against you, I--I'd wring the ruffian's +neck!" + +"But if he did, Walter, you wouldn't believe him, would you?" + +"Of course I wouldn't." + +"Not--not if the charge he made against me was a terrible one--a--a +disgraceful one?" she asked in a strained voice after a brief and +painful pause. + +"Why, dearest!" he cried, "what is the matter? You are really not +yourself to-day. You seem to be filled with a graver apprehension even +than I am. What does it mean? Tell me." + +"It means, Walter, that that man is Lady Heyburn's friend; hence he is +my enemy." + +"And what need you fear when you have me as your friend?" + +"I do not fear if you will still remain my friend--always--in face of +any allegation he makes." + +"I love you, darling. Surely that's sufficient guarantee of my +friendship?" + +"Yes," she responded, raising her white, troubled face to his while he +bent and kissed her again on the lips. "I know that I am yours, my own +well-beloved; and, as yours, I will not fear." + +"That's right!" he exclaimed, endeavouring to smile. "Cheer up. I don't +like to see you on this last day down-hearted and apprehensive like +this." + +"I am not so without cause." + +"Then, what is the cause?" he demanded. "Surely you can repose +confidence in me?" + +Again she was silent. Above them the wind stirred the leaves, and +through the high bracken a rabbit scuttled at their feet. They were +alone, and she stood again locked in her lover's fond embrace. + +"You have told me yourself that man Flockart is my enemy," she said in a +low voice. + +"But what action of his can you fear? Surely you should be forearmed +against any evil he may be plotting. Tell me the truth, and I will go +myself to your father and denounce the fellow before his face!" + +"Ah, no!" she cried, full of quick apprehension. "Never think of doing +that, Walter!" + +"Why? Am I not your friend?" + +"Such a course would only bring his wrath down upon my head. He would +retaliate quickly, and I alone would suffer." + +"But, my dear Gabrielle," he exclaimed, "you really speak in enigmas. +Whatever can you fear from a man who is known to be a blackguard--whom I +could now, at this very moment, expose in such a manner that he would +never dare to set foot in Perthshire again?" + +"Such a course would be most injudicious, I assure you. His ruin would +mean--it would mean--my--own!" + +"I don't follow you." + +"Ah, because you do not know my secret--you----" + +"Your secret!" the young man gasped, staring at her, yet still holding +her trembling form in his strong arms. "Why, what do you mean? What +secret?" + +"I--I cannot tell you!" she exclaimed in a hard, mechanical voice, +looking straight before her. + +"But you must," he protested. + +"I--I asked you, Walter, to make me a promise," she said, her voice +broken by emotion--"a promise that, for the sake of the love you bear +for me, you will not believe that man, that you will disregard any +allegation against me." + +"And I promise, on one condition, darling--that you tell me in +confidence what I, as your future husband, have a just right to +know--the nature of this secret of yours." + +"Ah, no!" she cried, unable longer to restrain her tears, and burying +her pale, beautiful face upon his arm. "I--I was foolish to have spoken +of it," she sobbed brokenly: "I ought to have kept it to myself. It +is--it's the one thing that I can never reveal to you--to you of all +men!" + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +DESCRIBES A FRENCHMAN'S VISIT + +"Monsieur Goslin, Sir Henry," Hill announced, entering his master's room +one morning a fortnight later, just as the blind man was about to +descend to breakfast. "He's in the library, sir." + +"Goslin!" exclaimed the Baronet, in great surprise. "I'll go to him at +once; and Hill, serve breakfast for two in the library, and tell Miss +Gabrielle that I do not wish to be disturbed this morning." + +"Very well, Sir Henry;" and the man bowed and went down the broad oak +staircase. + +"Goslin here, without any announcement!" exclaimed the Baronet, speaking +to himself. "Something must have happened. I wonder what it can be." He +tugged at his collar to render it more comfortable; and then, with a +groping hand on the broad balustrade, he felt his way down the stairs +and along the corridor to the big library, where a stout, grey-haired +Frenchman came forward to greet him warmly, after carefully closing the +door. + +"Ah, _mon cher ami_!" he began; and, speaking in French, he inquired +eagerly after the Baronet's health. He was rather long-faced, with beard +worn short and pointed, and his dark, deep-set eyes and his countenance +showed a fund of good humour. "This visit is quite unexpected," +exclaimed Sir Henry. "You were not due till the 20th." + +"No; but circumstances have arisen which made my journey imperative, so +I left the Gare du Nord at four yesterday afternoon, was at Charing +Cross at eleven, had half-an-hour to catch the Scotch express at King's +Cross, and here I am." + +"Oh, my dear Goslin, you always move so quickly! You're simply a marvel +of alertness." + +The other smiled, and, with a shrug of the shoulders, said, "I really +don't know why I should have earned a reputation as a rapid traveller, +except, perhaps, by that trip I made last year, from Paris to +Constantinople, when I remained exactly thirty-eight minutes in the +Sultan's capital. But I did my business there, nevertheless, even though +I got through quicker than _messieurs les touristes_ of the most +estimable Agence Cook." + +"You want a wash, eh?" + +"Ah, no, my friend. I washed at the hotel in Perth, where I took my +morning coffee. When I come to Scotland I carry no baggage save my +tooth-brush in my pocket, and a clean collar across my chest, its ends +held by my braces." + +The Baronet laughed heartily. His friend was always most resourceful and +ingenious. He was a mystery to all at Glencardine, and to Lady Heyburn +most of all. His visits were always unexpected, while as to who he +really was, or whence he came, nobody--not even Gabrielle herself--knew. +At times the Frenchman would take his meals alone with Sir Henry in the +library, while at others he would lunch with her ladyship and her +guests. On these latter occasions he proved himself a most amusing +cosmopolitan, and at the same time exhibited an extreme courtliness +towards every one. His manner was quite charming, yet his presence there +was always puzzling, and had given rise to considerable speculation. + +Hill came in, and after helping the Frenchman to take off his heavy +leather-lined travelling-coat, laid a small table for two and prepared +breakfast. + +Then, when he had served it and left, Goslin rose, and, crossing to the +door, pushed the little brass bolt into its socket. Returning to his +chair opposite the blind man (whose food Hill had already cut up for +him), he exclaimed in a very calm, serious voice, speaking in French, "I +want you to hear what I have to say, Sir Henry, without exciting +yourself unduly. Something has occurred--something very strange and +remarkable." + +The other dropped his knife, and sat statuesque and expressionless. "Go +on," he said hoarsely. "Tell me the worst at once." + +"The worst has not yet happened. It is that which I'm dreading." + +"Well, what has happened? Is--is the secret out?" + +"The secret is safe--for the present." + +The blind man drew a long breath. "Well, that's one thing to be thankful +for," he gasped. "I was afraid you were going to tell me that the facts +were exposed." + +"They may yet be exposed," the mysterious visitor exclaimed. "That's +where lies the danger." + +"We have been betrayed, eh? You may as well admit the ugly truth at +once, Goslin!" + +"I do not conceal it, Sir Henry. We have." + +"By whom?" + +"By somebody here--in this house." + +"Here! What do you mean? Somebody in my own house?" + +"Yes. The Greek affair is known. They have been put upon their guard in +Athens." + +"By whom?" cried the Baronet, starting from his chair. + +"By somebody whom we cannot trace--somebody who must have had access to +your papers." + +"No one has had access to my papers. I always take good care of that, +Goslin--very good care of that. The affair has leaked out at your end, +not at mine." + +"At our end we are always circumspect," the Frenchman said calmly. "Rest +assured that nobody but we ourselves are aware of our operations or +intentions. We know only too well that any revelation would assuredly +bring upon us--disaster." + +"But a revelation has actually been made!" exclaimed Sir Henry, bending +forward. "Therefore the worst is to be feared." + +"Exactly. That is what I am endeavouring to convey." + +"The betrayal must have come from your end, I expect; not from here." + +"I regret to assert that it came from here--from this very room." + +"How do you know that?" + +"Because in Athens they have a complete copy of one of the documents +which you showed me on the last occasion I was here, and which we have +never had in our possession." + +The blind man was silent. The allegation admitted of no argument. + +"My daughter Gabrielle is the only person who has seen it, and she +understands nothing of our affairs, as you know quite well." + +"She may have copied it." + +"My daughter would never betray me, Goslin," said Sir Henry in a hard, +distinct voice, rising from the table and slowly walking down the long, +book-lined room. + +"Has no one else been able to open your safe and examine its contents?" +asked the Frenchman, glancing over to the small steel door let into the +wall close to where he was sitting. + +"No one. Though I'm blind, do you consider me a fool? Surely I recognise +only too well how essential is secrecy. Have I not always taken the most +extraordinary precautions?" + +"You have, Sir Henry. I quite admit that. Indeed, the precautions you've +taken would, if known to the world, be regarded--well, as simply +amazing." + +"I hope the world will never know the truth." + +"It will know the truth. They have the copies in Athens. If there is a +traitor--as we have now proved the existence of one--then we can never +in future rest secure. At any moment another exposure may result, with +its attendant disaster." + +The Baronet halted before one of the long windows, the morning sunshine +falling full upon his sad, grey face. He drew a long sigh and said, +"Goslin, do not let us discuss the future. Tell me exactly what is the +present situation." + +"The present situation," the Frenchman said in a dry, matter-of-fact +voice, "is one full of peril for us. You have, over there in your safe, +a certain paper--a confidential report which you received direct from +Vienna. It was brought to you by special messenger because its nature +was not such as should be sent through the post. A trusted official of +the Austrian Ministry of Foreign Affairs brought it here. To whom did he +deliver it?" + +"To Gabrielle. She signed a receipt." + +"And she broke the seals?" + +"No. I was present, and she handed it to me. I broke the seals myself. +She read it over to me." + +"Ah!" ejaculated the Frenchman suspiciously. "It is unfortunate that you +are compelled to entrust our secrets to a woman." + +"My daughter is my best friend; indeed, perhaps my only friend." + +"Then you have enemies?" + +"Who has not?" + +"True. We all of us have enemies," replied the mysterious visitor. "But +in this case, how do you account for that report falling into the hands +of the people in Athens? Who keeps the key of the safe?" + +"I do. It is never out of my possession." + +"At night what do you do with it?" + +"I hide it in a secret place in my room, and I sleep with the door +locked." + +"Then, as far as you are aware, nobody has ever had possession of your +key--not even mademoiselle your daughter?" + +"Not even Gabrielle. I always lock and unlock the safe myself." + +"But she has access to its contents when it is open," the visitor +remarked. "Acting as your secretary, she is, of course, aware of a good +deal of your business." + +"No; you are mistaken. Have we not arranged a code in order to prevent +her from satisfying her woman's natural inquisitiveness?" + +"That's admitted. But the document in question, though somewhat guarded, +is sufficiently plain to any one acquainted with the nature of our +negotiations." + +The blind man crossed to the safe, and with the key upon his chain +opened it, and, after fumbling in one of the long iron drawers revealed +within, took out a big oblong envelope, orange-coloured, and secured +with five black seals, now, however, broken. + +This he handed to his friend, saying, "Read it again, to refresh your +memory. I know myself what it says pretty well by heart." + +Monsieur Goslin drew forth the paper within and read the lines of close, +even writing. It was in German. He stood near the window as he read, +while Sir Henry remained near the open safe. + +Hill tapped at the bolted door, but his master replied that he did not +wish to be disturbed. "Yes," the Frenchman said at last, "the copy they +have in Athens is exact--word for word." + +"They may have obtained it from Vienna." + +"No; it came from here. There are some pencilled comments in your +daughter's handwriting." + +"They were dictated by me." + +"Exactly. And they appear in the copy now in the hands of the people in +Athens! Thus it is doubly proved that it was this actual document which +was copied. But by whom?" + +"Ah!" sighed the helpless man, his face drawn and paler than usual, +"Gabrielle is the only person who has had sight of it." + +"Mademoiselle surely could not have copied it," remarked the Frenchman. +"Has she a lover?" + +"Yes; the son of a neighbour of mine, a very worthy young fellow." + +Goslin grunted dubiously. It was apparent that he suspected her of +trickery. Information such as had been supplied to the Greek Government +would, he knew, be paid for, and at a high price. Had mademoiselle's +lover had a hand in that revelation? + +"I would not suggest for a single moment, Sir Henry, that mademoiselle +your daughter would act in any way against your personal interests; +but--" + +"But what?" demanded the blind man fiercely, turning towards his +visitor. + +"Well, it is peculiar--very peculiar--to say the least." + +Sir Henry was silent. Within himself he was compelled to admit that +certain suspicion attached to Gabrielle. And yet was she not his most +devoted--nay, his only--friend? "Some one has copied the report--that's +evident," he said in a low, hard voice, reflecting deeply. + +"And by so doing has placed us in a position of grave peril, Sir +Henry--imminent peril," remarked the visitor. "I see in this an attempt +to obtain further knowledge of our affairs. We have a secret enemy, who, +it seems, has found a vulnerable point in our armour." + +"Surely my own daughter cannot be my enemy?" cried the blind man in +dismay. + +"You say she has a lover," remarked the Frenchman, speaking slowly and +with deliberation. "May not he be the instigator?" + +"Walter Murie is upright and honourable," replied the blind man. "And +yet--" A long-drawn sigh prevented the conclusion of that sentence. + +"Ah, I know!" exclaimed the mysterious visitor in a tone of sympathy. +"You are uncertain in your conclusions because of your terrible +affliction. Sometimes, alas! my dear friend, you are imposed upon, +because you are blind." + +"Yes," responded the other, bitterly. "That is the truth, Goslin. +Because I cannot see like other men, I have been deceived--foully and +grossly deceived and betrayed! But--but," he cried, "they thought to +ruin me, and I've tricked them, Goslin--yes, tricked them! Have no fear. +For the present our secrets are our own!" + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +REVEALS THE SPY + +The Twelfth--the glorious Twelfth--had come and gone. "The rush to the +North" had commenced from London. From Euston, St. Pancras, and King's +Cross the night trains for Scotland had run in triplicate, crowded by +men and gun-cases and kit-bags, while gloomy old Perth station was a +scene of unwonted activity each morning. + +At Glencardine there were little or no grouse; therefore it was not +until later that Sir Henry invited his usual party. + +Gabrielle had been south to visit one of her girlfriends near Durham, +and the week of her absence her afflicted father had spent in dark +loneliness, for Flockart had gone to London, and her ladyship was away +on a fortnight's visit to the Pelhams, down at New Galloway. + +On the last day of August, however, Gabrielle returned, being followed a +few hours later by Lady Heyburn, who had travelled up by way of Stirling +and Crieff Junction, while that same night eight men forming the +shooting-party arrived by the day express from the south. + +The gathering was a merry one. The guests were the same who came up +there every year, some of them friends of Sir Henry in the days of his +brilliant career, others friends of his wife. The shooting at +Glencardine was always excellent; and Stewart, wise and serious, had +prophesied first-class sport. + +Walter Murie was in London. While Gabrielle had been at Durham he had +travelled up there, spent the night at the "Three Tuns," and met her +next morning in that pretty wooded walk they call "the Banks." Devoted +to her as he was, he could not bear any long separation; while she, on +her part, was gratified by this attention. Not without some difficulty +did she succeed in getting away from her friends to meet him, for a +provincial town is not like London, and any stranger is always in the +public eye. But they spent a delightful couple of hours together, +strolling along the footpath through the meadows in the direction of +Finchale Priory. There were no eavesdroppers; and he, with his arm +linked in hers, repeated the story of his all-conquering love. + +She listened in silence, then raising her fine clear eyes to his, said, +"I know, Walter--I know that you love me. And I love you also." + +"Ah," he sighed, "if you would only be frank with me, dearest--if you +would only be as frank with me as I am with you!" + +Sadly she shook her head, but made no reply. He saw that a shadow had +clouded her brow, that she still clung to her strange secret; and at +length, when they retraced their steps back to the city, he reluctantly +took leave of her, and half-an-hour later was speeding south again +towards York and King's Cross. + +The opening day of the partridge season proved bright and pleasant. The +men were out early; and the ladies, a gay party, including Gabrielle, +joined them at luncheon spread on a mossy bank about three miles from +the castle. Several of the male guests were particularly attentive to +the dainty, sweet-faced girl whose charming manner and fresh beauty +attracted them. But Gabrielle's heart was with Walter always. She loved +him. Yes, she told herself so a dozen times each day. And yet was not +the barrier between them insurmountable? Ah, if he only knew! If he only +knew! + +The blind man was left alone nearly the whole of that day. His daughter +had wanted to remain with him, but he would not hear of it. "My dear +child," he had said, "you must go out and lunch. You really must assist +your mother in entertaining the people." + +"But, dear dad, I much prefer to remain with you and help you," she +protested. "Yesterday the Professor sent you five more bronze matrices +of ecclesiastical seals. We haven't yet examined them." + +"We'll do so to-night, dear," he said. "You go out to-day. I'll amuse +myself all right. Perhaps I'll go for a little walk." + +Therefore the girl had, against her inclination, joined the +luncheon-party, where foremost of all to have her little attentions was +a rather foppish young stockbroker named Girdlestone, who had been up +there shooting the previous year, and had on that occasion flirted with +her furiously. + +During her absence her father tried to resume his knitting--an +occupation which he had long ago been compelled to resort to in order to +employ his time; but he soon put it down with a sigh, rose, and taking +his soft brown felt-hat and stout stick, tapped his way along through +the great hall and out into the park. + +He felt the warmth upon his cheek as he passed slowly along down the +broad drive. "Ah," he murmured to himself, "if only I could once again +see God's sunlight! If I could only see the greenery of nature and the +face of my darling child!" and he sighed brokenly, and went on, his chin +sunk upon his breast, a despairing, hopeless man. Surely no figure more +pathetic than his could be found in the whole of Scotland. Upon him had +been showered honour, great wealth, all indeed that makes life worth +living, and yet, deprived of sight, he existed in that world of +darkness, deceived and plotted against by all about him. His grey +countenance was hard and thoughtful as he passed slowly along tapping +the ground before him, for he was thinking--ever thinking--of the +declaration of his French visitor. He had been betrayed. But by whom? + +His thoughts were wandering back to those days when he could see--those +well-remembered days when he had held the House in silence by his +brilliant oratory, and when the papers next day had leading articles +concerning his speeches. He recollected his time-mellowed old club in +St. James's Street--Boodle's--of which he had been so fond. Then came +his affliction. The thought of it all struck him suddenly; and, +clenching his hands, he murmured some inarticulate words through his +teeth. They sounded strangely like a threat. Next instant, however, he +laughed bitterly to himself the dry, harsh laugh of a man into whose +very soul the iron had entered. + +In the distance he could hear the shots of his guests, those men who +accepted his hospitality, and who among themselves agreed that he was "a +terrible bore, poor old fellow!" They came up there--with perhaps two +exceptions--to eat his dinners, drink his choice wines, and shoot his +birds, but begrudged him more than ten minutes or so of their company +each day. In the billiard-room of an evening, as he sat upon one of the +long lounges, they would perhaps deign to chat with him; but, alas! he +knew that he was only as a wet blanket to his wife's guests, hence he +kept himself so much to the library--his own domain. + +That night he spent half-an-hour in the billiard-room in order to hear +what sport they had had, but very soon escaped, and with Gabrielle +returned again to the library to fulfil his promise and examine the +seal-matrices which the Professor had sent. + +To where they sat came bursts of boisterous laughter and of the +waltz-music of the pianola in the hall, for in the shooting season the +echoes of the fine mansion were awakened by the merriment of as gay a +crowd as any who assembled in the Highlands. + +Sir Henry heard it. The sounds jarred upon his nerves. Mirth such as +theirs was debarred him for ever, and he had now become gloomy and +misanthropic. He sat fingering those big oval matrices of bronze, +listening to Gabrielle's voice deciphering the inscriptions, and +explaining what was meant and what was possibly their history. One which +Sir Henry declared to be the gem of them all bore the _manus Dei_ for +device, and was the seal of Archbishop Richard (1174-84). Several +documents bearing impressions of this seal were, he said, preserved at +Canterbury and in the British Museum, but here the actual seal itself +had come to light. + +With all the enthusiasm of an expert he lingered over the matrice, +feeling it carefully with the tips of his fingers, and tracing the +device with the nail of his forefinger. "Splendid!" he declared. "The +lettering is a most excellent specimen of early Lombardic." And then he +gave the girl the titles of several works, which she got down from the +shelves, and from which she read extracts after some careful search. + +The sulphur-casts sent with the matrices she placed carefully with her +father's collection, and during the remainder of the evening they were +occupied in replying to several letters regarding estate matters. + +At eleven o'clock she kissed her father good-night and passed out to the +hall, where the pianola was still going, and where the merriment was +still in full swing. For a quarter of an hour she was compelled to +remain with the insipid young ass Bertie Girdlestone, a man who +patronised musical comedy nightly, and afterwards supped regularly at +the "Savoy"; then she escaped at last to her room. + +Exchanging her pretty gown of turquoise chiffon for an easy wrap, she +took up a novel, and, switching on her green-shaded reading-lamp, sat +down to enjoy a quiet hour before retiring. Quickly she became engrossed +in the story, and though the stable-chimes sounded each half-hour she +remained undisturbed by them. + +It was half-past two before she had reached the happy _denouement_ of +the book, and, closing it, she rose to take off her trinkets. Having +divested herself of bracelets, rings, and necklet, she placed her hands +to her ears. There was only one ear-ring; the other was missing! They +were sapphires, a present from Walter on her last birthday. He had sent +them to her from Yokohama, and she greatly prized them. Therefore, at +risk of being seen in her dressing-gown by any of the male guests who +might still be astir--for she knew they always played billiards until +very late--she took off her little blue satin slippers and stole out +along the corridor and down the broad staircase. + +The place was in darkness; but she turned on the light, and again when +she reached the hall. + +She must have dropped her ear-ring in the library; of that she felt +sure. Servants were so careless that, if she left it, it might easily be +swept up in the morning and lost for ever. That thought had caused her +to search for it at once. + +As she approached the library door she thought she heard the sound as of +some one within. On her opening the door, however, all was in darkness. +She laughed at her apprehension. + +In an instant she touched the switch, and the place became flooded by a +soft, mellow light from lamps cunningly concealed behind the bookcases +against the wall. At the same moment, however, she detected a movement +behind one of the bookcases against which she stood. With sudden +resolution and fearlessness, she stepped forward to ascertain its cause. +Her eyes at that instant fell upon a sight which caused her to start and +stand dumb with amazement. Straight before her the door of her father's +safe stood open. Beside it, startled at the sudden interruption, stood a +man in evening-dress, with a small electric lamp in his clenched hand. A +pair of dark, evil eyes met hers in defiance--the eyes of James +Flockart. + +"You!" she gasped. + +"Yes," he laughed dryly. "Don't be afraid. It's only I. But, by Jove! +how very charming you look in that gown! I'd love to get a snapshot of +you just as you stand now." + +"What are you doing there, examining my father's papers?" she demanded +quickly, her small hands clenched. + +"My dear girl," he replied with affected unconcern, "that's my own +business. You really ought to have been in bed long ago. It isn't +discreet, you know, to be down here with me at this hour!" + +"I demand to know what you are doing here!" she cried firmly. + +"And, my dear little girl, I refuse to tell you," was his decisive +answer. + +"Very well, then I shall alarm the house and explain to my father what I +have discovered." + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +SHOWS GABRIELLE DEFIANT + +Gabrielle crossed quickly to one of the long windows, which she unbolted +and flung open, expecting to hear the shrill whir of the burglar-alarm, +which, every night, Hill switched on before retiring. + +"My dear little girl!" exclaimed the man, smiling as he strolled +leisurely across to her with a cool, perfect unconcern which showed how +completely he was master, "why create such a beastly draught? Nothing +will happen, for I've already seen to those wires." + +"You're a thief!" she cried, drawing herself up angrily. "I shall go +straight to my father and tell him at once." + +"You are at perfect liberty to act exactly as you choose," was +Flockart's answer, as he bowed before her with irritating mock +politeness. "But before you go, pray allow me to finish these most +interesting documents, some of which, I believe, are in your very neat +handwriting." + +"My father's business is his own alone, and you have no right whatever +to pry into it. I thought you were posing as his friend!" she cried in +bitter protest, as she stood with both her hands clenched. + +"I am his friend," he declared. "Some day, Gabrielle, you will know the +truth of how near he is to disaster, and how I am risking much in an +endeavour to save him." + +"I don't believe you!" she exclaimed in undisguised disgust. "In your +heart there is not one single spark of sympathy with him in his +affliction or with me in my ghastly position!" + +"Your position is only your own seeking, my dear child," was his cold +response. "I gave you full warning long ago. You can't deny that." + +"You conspired with Lady Heyburn against me!" she cried. "I have +discovered more about it than you think; and I now openly defy you, Mr. +Flockart. Please understand that." + +"Good!" he replied, still unruffled. "I quite understand. You will +pardon my resuming, won't you?" And walking back to the open safe, he +drew forth a small bundle of papers from a drawer. Then he threw himself +into a leather arm-chair, and proceeded to untie the tape and examine +the documents one by one, as though in eager search of something. + +"Though Lady Heyburn may be your friend, I am quite sure even she would +never for a moment countenance such a dastardly action as this!" cried +the girl, crimsoning in anger. "You come here, accept my father's +hospitality, and make pretence of being his friend and adviser; yet you +are conspiring against him, as you have done against myself!" + +"So far as you yourself are concerned, my dear Gabrielle," he laughed, +without deigning to look up from the papers he was scanning, "I offered +you my friendship, but you refused it." + +"Friendship!" she cried, in sarcasm. "Your friendship, Mr. Flockart! +What, pray, is it worth? You surely know what people are saying--the +construction they are placing upon your friendship for Lady Heyburn?" + +"The misconstruction, you mean," he exclaimed airily, correcting her. +"Well, to me it matters not a single jot. The world is always +ill-disposed and ill-natured. A woman can surely have a male friend +without being subject to hostile and venomous criticism?" + +"When the male friend is an honest man," said the girl meaningly. + +He shrugged his shoulders and continued reading, as though utterly +disregarding her presence. + +What should she do? How should she act? She knew quite well that from +those papers he could gather no knowledge of her father's affairs, +unless he held some secret knowledge of the true meaning of those +cryptic terms and allusions. To her they were all as Hebrew. + +Only that very day Monsieur Goslin had again made one of those +unexpected visits, remaining from eleven in the morning until three; +afterwards taking his leave, and driving back in the car to Auchterarder +Station. She had not seen him; but he had brought from Paris for her a +big box of chocolates tied with violet ribbons, as had been his habit +for quite a couple of years past. She was a particular favourite with +the polite, middle-aged Frenchman. + +Her father's demeanour was always more thoughtful and serious after the +stranger's visits. Business matters put before him by his visitor +always, it seemed, required much deep thought and ample consideration. + +Some papers brought to her father by Goslin she had placed in the safe +earlier that evening, and these, she recognised, were now in Flockart's +hands. She had not read them herself, and had no idea of their contents. +They were, to her, never interesting. + +"Mr. Flockart," she exclaimed very firmly at last, "I ask you to kindly +replace those papers in my father's safe, relock it, and hand me the +key." + +"That I certainly refuse to do," was the man's defiant reply, bowing as +he spoke. + +"You would prefer, then, that I should go up to my father and explain +all I have seen?" + +"I repeat what I have already said. You are perfectly at liberty to tell +whom you like. It makes no difference whatever to me. And, well, I don't +want to be disturbed just now." Rising, he walked across to the +writing-table, and taking a piece of note-paper bearing the Heyburn +crest, rapidly pencilled some memoranda upon it. He was, it seemed, +taking a copy of one of the documents. + +Suddenly she sprang towards him, crying, "Give me that paper! Give it to +me at once, I say! It is my father's." + +He straightened himself from the table, pulled down his white dress-vest +with its amethyst buttons, and, looking straight into her face, ordered +her to leave the room. + +"I shall not go," she answered boldly. "I have discovered a thief in my +father's house; therefore my duty is to remain here." + +"No. Surely your duty is to go upstairs and tell him;" and he bent +again, resuming his rapid memoranda. "Well," he asked defiantly, a few +moments later, seeing that she had not moved, "aren't you going?" + +"I shall not leave you here alone." + +"Don't. I might run away with some of the ornaments." + +"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the girl bitterly, "you taunt me because you are +well aware of my helplessness--of what occurred on that +never-to-be-forgotten afternoon--of how completely you have me in your +power! I see it all. You defy me, well knowing that you could, in a +moment, bring upon me a vengeance terrible and complete. It is all +horrible!" she cried, covering her face with her hands. "I know that I +am in your power. And you have no pity, no remorse." + +"I gave you full warning," he declared, placing the papers upon the +table and looking at her. "I gave you your choice. You cannot blame me. +You had ample time and opportunity." + +"But I still have one man who loves me--a man who will yet stand my +friend and defend me, even against you!" + +"Walter Murie!" he laughed, with a quick gesture of disregard. "You +believe him to be your friend? Recollect, my dear Gabrielle, that men +are deceivers ever." + +"So it seems in your case," she exclaimed with poignant bitterness. "You +have brought scandalous comment upon my father's name, and yet you are +utterly unconcerned." + +"Because, as I have already told you, your father is my friend." + +"And it is his money which you spend so freely," she said, in a low, +hard voice of reproach. "It comes from him." + +"His money!" he exclaimed quickly. "What do you mean? What do you +imply?" + +"Simply that among my father's accounts a short time back I found two +cheques drawn by Lady Heyburn in your favour." + +"And you told your father of them, of course!" he exclaimed with +sarcasm. "A remarkable discovery, eh?" + +"I told him nothing," was her bold reply. "Not because I wished to +shield you, but because I did not wish to pain him unduly. He has +worries sufficient, in all conscience." + +"Your devotion is really most charming," the man declared calmly, +leaning against the table and examining her critically from head to +foot. "Sir Henry believes in you. You are his dutiful daughter--pure, +good, and all that!" he sneered. "I wonder what he would say if +he--well, if he knew just a little of the truth, of what happened that +day at Chantilly?" + +"The truth! Ah, and you would tell him--you!" she gasped in a broken +voice, her sweet, innocent face blanched to the lips in an instant. "You +would drag my good name into the mire, and blast my life for ever with +just as little compunction as you would shoot a rabbit. I know--I know +you only too well, Mr. Flockart! I stand in your way; I am in your way +as well as in Lady Heyburn's. You are only awaiting an opportunity to +wreck my life and crush me! Once I am away from here, my poor father +will be helpless in your hands!" + +"Dear me," he sneered, "how very tragic you are becoming! That +dressing-gown really makes you appear quite like a heroine of provincial +melodrama. I ought now to have a revolver and threaten you, and then +this scene would be complete for the stage--wouldn't it? But for +goodness' sake don't remain here in the cold any longer, my dear little +girl. Run off to bed, and forget that to-night you've been walking in +your sleep." + +"Not until I see that safe relocked and you give me the false key of +yours. If you will not, then you shall this very night have an +opportunity of telling the truth to my father. I am prepared to bear my +shame and all its consequences----" + +The words froze upon her pale lips. On the lawn outside the half-open +glass door there was at that moment a light movement--the tapping of a +walking-stick! + +"Hush!" cried Flockart. "Remember what I can tell him--if I choose!" + +In an instant she saw the fragile figure of her father, in soft felt-hat +and black coat, creeping almost noiselessly past the window. He had been +out for one of his nocturnal walks, for he sometimes went out alone when +suffering from insomnia. He had just returned. + +The blind man went forward only a few paces farther; but, finding that +he had proceeded too far, he returned and discovered the open door. Near +it stood the pair, not daring now to move lest the blind man's quick +ears should detect their footsteps. + +"Gabrielle! Gabrielle, my dear!" exclaimed the Baronet. + +But though her heart beat quickly, the girl did not reply. She knew, +however, that the old man could almost read her innermost thoughts. The +ominous words of Flockart rang in her ears. Yes, he could tell a +terrible and awful truth which must be concealed at all hazards. + +"I felt sure I heard Gabrielle's voice. How curious!" murmured the old +man, as his feet fell noiselessly upon the thick Turkey carpet. +"Gabrielle, dear!" he called. But his daughter stood there breathless +and silent, not daring to move a muscle. Plain it was that while passing +across the lawn outside he heard her voice. He had overheard her +declaration that she was prepared to bear the consequences of her +disgrace. + +Across the room the blind man groped, his hand held before him, as was +his habit. "Strange! Remarkably strange!" he remarked to himself quite +aloud. "I'm never mistaken in Gabrielle's voice. Gabrielle, dear, where +are you? Why don't you speak? It's too late to-night to play practical +jokes." + +Flockart knew that he had left the safe-door open, yet he dared not move +across the room to close it. The sightless man would detect the +slightest movement in that dead silence of the night. With great care he +left the girl's side, and a single stride brought him to the large +writing-table, where he secured the document, together with the +pencilled memoranda of its purport, both of which he slipped into his +pocket unobserved. + +Gabrielle dared not breathe. Her discovery there meant her ruin. + +The man who held her in his toils cast her an evil, threatening glance, +raising his clenched fist in menace, as though daring her to make the +slightest movement. In his dark eyes showed a sinister expression, and +his nether lip was hard. She was, alas! utterly and completely in his +power. + +The safe was some distance away, and in order to reach and close it he +would be compelled to pass the man in blue spectacles now standing, +puzzled and surprised, in the centre of the great book-lined apartment. +Both of them could escape by the open window, but to do so would be to +court discovery should the Baronet find his safe standing open. In that +case the alarm would be raised, and they would both be found outside the +house, instead of within. + +Slowly the old man drew his thin hand across his furrowed brow, and +then, as a sudden recollection dawned upon him, he cried, "Ah, the +window! Why, that's strange! When I went out I closed it! But it was +open--open--as I came in! Some one--some one has entered here in my +absence!" + +With both his thin, wasted hands outstretched, he walked quickly to his +safe, cleverly avoiding the furniture in his course, and next second +discovered that the iron door stood wide open. + +"Thieves!" he gasped aloud hoarsely as the truth dawned upon him. "My +papers! Gabrielle's voice! What can all this mean?" And next moment he +opened the door, crying, "Help!" and endeavouring to alarm the +household. + +In an instant Flockart dashed forward towards the safe, and, without +being observed by Gabrielle, had slipped the key into his own pocket. + +"Gabrielle," cried the blind man, "you are here in the room. I know you +are. You cannot deceive me. I smell that new scent, which your aunt +Annie sent you, upon your handkerchief. Why don't you speak to me?" + +"Yes, dad," she answered at last, in a low, strained voice, "I--I am +here." + +"Then what is meant by my safe being open?" he asked sternly, as all +that Goslin had told him a little while before flashed across his +memory. "Why have you obtained a key to it?" + +"I have no key," was her quick answer. + +"Come here," he said. "Let me take your hand." + +With great reluctance, her eyes fixed upon Flockart's face, she did as +she was bid, and as her father took her soft hand in his, he said in a +stern, harsh tone, full of suspicion and quite unusual to him, "You are +trembling, Gabrielle--trembling, because--because of my unexpected +appearance, eh?" + +The fair girl with the sweet face and dainty figure was silent. What +could she reply? + + + +CHAPTER XX + +TELLS OF FLOCKART'S TRIUMPH + +"What are you doing here at this hour?" Gabrielle's father demanded +slowly, releasing her hand. "Why are you prying into my affairs?" He had +not detected Flockart's presence, and believed himself alone with his +daughter. + +The man's glance again met Gabrielle's, and she saw in his eyes a +desperate look. To tell the truth would, she knew, alas! cause the +exposure of her secret and her disgrace. On both sides had she suddenly +become hemmed in by a deadly peril. + +"Dad," she cried suddenly, "do I not know all about your affairs +already? Do I not act as your secretary? With what motive should I open +your safe?" + +Without response, the blind man moved back to the open door, and, +placing his hand within, fingered one of the long iron drawers. It was +unlocked, and he drew it forth. Some papers were within--blue, +legal-looking papers which his daughter had never seen. "Yes," he +exclaimed aloud, "just as I thought. This drawer has been opened, and my +private affairs pried into. Tell me, Gabrielle, where is young Murie +just at present?" + +"In Paris, I believe. He left London unexpectedly three days ago." + +"Paris!" echoed the old man. "Ah," he added, "Goslin was right--quite +right. And so you, my daughter, in whom I placed all my trust--my--my +only friend--have betrayed me!" he added brokenly. + +"I have not betrayed you, dear father," was her quick protest. "To whom +do you allege I have exposed your affairs?" + +"To your lover, Walter." + +To Flockart, whose wits were already at work upon some scheme to +extricate himself, there came at that instant a sudden suggestion. He +spoke, causing the old man to start suddenly and turn in the direction +of the speaker. + +As the words left his lips he raised a threatening finger towards +Gabrielle, a sign of silence to her of which the old man was +unfortunately in ignorance. + +"I think, Sir Henry, that I ought to speak--to tell you the truth, +painful though it may be. Five minutes ago I came down here in order to +get a telegraph-form, as I wanted to send a wire at the earliest +possible moment to-morrow, when, to my surprise, I saw a light beneath +the door. I----" + +"Oh, no, no!" gasped the girl, in horrified protest. "It's a lie!" + +"I crept in quietly, and was very surprised to find Gabrielle with the +safe open, and alone. I had expected that she was sitting up late, +working with you. But she seemed to be examining and reading some papers +she took from a drawer. Forgive me for telling you this, but the truth +must now be made plain. I startled her by my sudden presence; and, +pointing out the dishonour of copying her father's papers, no matter for +what purpose, I compelled her to return the documents to their place. I +fold her frankly that it was my duty, as your friend, to inform you of +the incident; but she implored me, for the sake of her lover, to remain +silent." + +"Mr. Flockart!" cried the girl, "how dare you say such a thing when you +know it to be an untruth; when----" + +"Enough!" exclaimed her father bitterly. "I'm ashamed of you, Gabrielle. +I----" + +"I would beg of you, Sir Henry, not further to distress yourself," +Flockart interrupted. "Love, as you know, often prompts both men and +women to commit acts of supreme folly." + +"Folly!" echoed the blind man. "This is more than folly! Gabrielle and +her lover have conspired to bring about my ruin. I have had suspicions +for several weeks; now, alas! they are confirmed. Walter Murie is in +Paris at this moment in order to make money out of the secret knowledge +which Gabrielle obtains for him. My own daughter is responsible for my +betrayal!" he added, in a voice broken by emotion. + +"No, no, Sir Henry!" urged Flockart. "Surely the outlook is not so black +as you foresee. Gabrielle has acted injudiciously; but surely she is +still devoted to you and your interests." + +"Yes," cried the girl in desperation, "you know I am, dad. You know that +I----" + +"It is useless, Flockart, for you to endeavour to seek forgiveness for +Gabrielle," declared her father in a firm, harsh voice, "Quite useless. +She has even endeavoured to deny the statement you have made--tried to +deny it when I actually heard with my own ears her defiant declaration +that she was prepared to bear her shame and all its consequences! Let +her do so, I say. She shall leave Glencardine to-morrow, and have no +further opportunity to conspire against me." + +"Oh, father, what are you saying?" she cried in despair, bursting into +tears. "I have not conspired." + +"I am saying the truth," went on the blind man. "You and your lover have +formed another clever plot, eh? Because I have not sight to watch you, +you will copy my business reports and send them to Walter Murie, who +hopes to place them in a certain channel where he can receive payment. +This is not the first time my business has leaked out from this room. +Only a short time ago certain confidential documents were offered to the +Greek Government, but fortunately they were false ones prepared on +purpose to trick any one who had designs upon my business secrets." + +"I swear I am in ignorance of it all." + +"Well, I have now told you plainly," the old man said. "I loved you, +Gabrielle, and until this moment foolishly believed that you were +devoted to me and to my interests. I trusted you implicitly, but you +have betrayed me into the hands of my enemies--betrayed me," he wailed, +"in such a manner that only ruin may face me. I tell you the hard and +bitter truth. I am blind, and ever since your return from school you +have acted as my secretary, and I have looked at the world only through +your eyes. Ah," he sighed, "but I ought to have known! I should never +have trusted a woman, even though she be my own daughter." + +The girl stood with her blanched face covered by her hands. To protest, +to declare that Flockart's story was a lie, was, she saw, all to no +purpose. Her father had overheard her bold defiance and had, alas! most +unfortunately taken it as an admission of her guilt. + +Flockart stood motionless but watchful; yet by the few words he uttered +he succeeded in impressing the blind man with the genuineness of his +friendship both for father and for daughter. He urged forgiveness, but +Sir Henry disregarded all his appeals. + +"No," he declared. "It is fortunate indeed, Flockart, that you made this +discovery, and thus placed me upon my guard." The poor deluded man +little dreamt that on the occasion when Flockart had taken him down the +drive to announce his departure from Glencardine on account of the +gossip, and had drawn Sir Henry's attention to his hanging watch-chain, +he had succeeded in cleverly obtaining two impressions of the safe-key +attached. In his excitement, it had never occurred to him to ask his +daughter by what means she had been able to open that steel door. + +"Dad," she faltered, advancing towards him and placing her soft, tender +hand upon his shoulder, "won't you listen to reason? I assure you I am +quite innocent of any attempt or intention to betray you. I know you +have many enemies;" and she glanced quickly in Flockart's direction. +"Have we not often discussed them? Have I not kept eyes and ears open, +and told you of all I have seen and learnt? Have----" + +"You have seen and learnt what is to my detriment," he answered. "All +argument is useless. A fortnight or so ago, by your aid, my enemies +secured a copy of a certain document which has never left yonder safe. +To-night Mr. Flockart has discovered you again tampering with my safe, +and with my own ears I heard you utter defiance. You are more devoted to +your lover than to me, and you are supplying him with copies of my +papers." + +"That is untrue, dad," protested the girl reproachfully. + +But her father shook her hand roughly from his shoulder, saying, "I have +already told you my decision, which is irrevocable. To-morrow you shall +leave Glencardine and go to your aunt Emily at Woodnewton. You won't +have much opportunity for mischief in that dull little Northampton +village. I won't allow you to remain under my roof any longer; you are +too ungrateful and deceitful, knowing as you do the misery of my +affliction." + +"But, father----" + +"Go to your room," he ordered sternly. "Tomorrow I will speak with your +mother, and we shall then decide what shall be done. Only, understand +one thing: in the future you are not my dear daughter that you have been +in the past. I--I have no daughter," he added in a voice harsh yet +broken by emotion, "for you have now proved yourself an enemy worse even +than those who for so many years have taken advantage of my +helplessness." + +"Ah, dad, dad, you are cruel!" she cried, bursting again into a torrent +of tears. "You are too cruel! I have done nothing!" + +"Do you call placing me in peril nothing?" he retorted bitterly. "Go to +your room at once. Remain with me, Flockart. I want to speak to you." + +The girl saw herself convicted by those unfortunate words she had +used--words meant in defiance of her arch-enemy Flockart, but which had +placed her in ignominy and disgrace. Ah, if she could only stand firm +and speak the ghastly truth! But, alas! she dared not. Flockart, the man +who held her in his power, the man whom she knew to be her father's +bitterest opponent, a cheat and a fraud, stood there triumphant, with a +smile upon his lips; while she, pure, honest, and devoted to that +afflicted man, was denounced and outcast. She raised her voice in one +last word of faint protest. + +But her father, angered and grieved, turned fiercely upon her and +ordered her from his presence. "Go," he said, "and do not come near me +again until your boxes are packed and you are ready to leave +Glencardine." + +"You speak as though I were a servant whom you've discharged," she said +bitterly. + +"I am speaking to my enemy, not to my daughter," was his hard response. + +She raised her eyes to Flockart, and saw upon his dark face a hard, +sphinx-like look. What hope of salvation could she ever expect from that +man--the man who long ago had sought to estrange her from her father so +that he might work his own ends? It was upon her tongue to turn upon him +and relate the whole infamous truth. Yet so friendly had the two men +become of late that she feared, even if she did so, that her father +would only see in the revelation an attempt at reprisal. Besides, what +if Flockart spoke? What if he told the awful truth? Her own dear father, +whom she loved so well, even though he had misjudged her, would be +dragged into the mire. No, she was the victim of that man, who was a +past-master of the art of subterfuge; the man who, for years, had lived +by his wits and preyed upon society. + +"Leave us, and go to your room," again commanded her father. + +She looked sadly at the white, bespectacled countenance which she loved +so well. Her soft hand once more sought his; but he cast it from him, +saying, "Enough of your caresses! You are no longer my daughter! Leave +us!" And then, seeing all protest in vain, she sighed, turned very +slowly, and with a last, lingering look upon the helpless man to whom +she had been so devoted, and who now so grossly misjudged her, she +tottered out, closing the door behind her. + +"Has she gone?" asked Sir Henry a moment later. + +Flockart responded in the affirmative, laying his hand upon the shoulder +of his agitated host, and urging him to remain calm. + +"That's all very well, my dear Flockart," he cried; "but you don't know +what she has done. She exposed a week or so ago a most confidential +arrangement with the Greek Government, a revelation which might have +involved me in the loss of over a hundred thousand." + +"Then it's fortunate, perhaps, that I discovered her to-night," replied +his guest. "All this must be very painful to you, Sir Henry." + +"Very. I shall not give her another opportunity to betray me, Flockart, +depend upon that," the elder man said. "My wife warned me against +Gabrielle long ago. I now see that I was a fool for not taking her +advice." + +"Certainly it's a curious fact that Walter Murie is in Paris," remarked +the other. "Was the revelation of your financial dealings made in Paris, +do you know?" + +"Yes, it was," snapped the blind man. "I believed Walter to be quite a +good young fellow." + +"Ah, I knew different, Sir Henry. His life up in London was not--well, +not exactly all that it should be. He's in with a rather shady crowd." + +"You never told me so." + +"Because you did not believe me to be your friend until quite recently. +I hope I have now proved what I have asserted. If I can do anything to +assist you I am only too ready. I assure you that you have only to +command me." + +Sir Henry reflected deeply for a few moments. The discovery that his +daughter was playing him false caused within him a sudden revulsion of +feeling. Unfortunately, he could not see the expression upon the +countenance of his false friend. He was wondering at that moment whether +he might entrust to him a somewhat delicate mission. + +"Gabrielle shall not return here," her father said, as though speaking +to himself. + +"That is a course which I would most strongly advise. Send the girl +away," urged the other. "Evidently she has grossly betrayed you." + +"That I certainly intend doing," was the answer. "But I wonder, +Flockart, if I might take you at your word, and ask you to do me a +favour? I am so helpless, or I would not think of troubling you." + +"Only tell me what you wish, and I will do it with pleasure." + +"Very well, then," replied the blind man. "Perhaps I shall want you to +go to Paris at once, watch the actions of young Murie, and report to me +from time to time. Would you?" + +A look of bright intelligence overspread the man's features as a new +vista opened before him. Sir Henry was about to take him into his +confidence! "Why, with pleasure," he said cheerily. "I'll start +to-morrow, and rest assured that I'll keep a very good eye upon the +young gentleman. You now know the painful truth concerning your +daughter--the truth which Lady Heyburn has told you so often, and which +you have never yet heeded." + +"Yes, Flockart," answered the afflicted man, taking his guest's hand in +warm friendship. "I once disliked you--that I admit; but you were quite +frank the other day, and now to-night you have succeeded in making a +discovery that, though it has upset me terribly, may mean my salvation." + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THROUGH THE MISTS + +Sir Henry refused to speak with his daughter when, on the following +morning, she stole in and laid her hand softly upon his arm. He ordered +her, in a tone quite unusual, to leave the library. Through the morning +hours she had lain awake trying to make a resolve. But, alas! she dared +not tell the truth; she was in deadly fear of Flockart's reprisals. + +That morning, at nine o'clock, Lady Heyburn and Flockart had held +hurried consultation in secret, at which he had explained to her what +had occurred. + +"Excellent!" she had remarked briefly. "But we must now have a care, my +dear friend. Mind the girl does not throw all prudence to the winds and +turn upon us." + +"Bah!" he laughed, "I don't fear that for a single second." And he left +the room again, to salute her in the breakfast-room a quarter of an hour +later as though they had not met before that day. + +Gabrielle, on leaving her father, went out for a long walk alone, away +over the heather-clad hills. For hours she went on--Jock, her Aberdeen +terrier, toddling at her side, in her hand a stout ash-stick--regardless +of the muddy roads or the wet weather. It was grey, damp, and dismal, +one of those days which in the Highlands are often so very cheerless and +dispiriting. Yet on, and still on, she went, her mind full of the events +of the previous night; full, also, of the dread secret which prevented +her from exposing her father's false friend. In order to save her +father, should she sacrifice herself--sacrifice her own life? That was +the one problem before her. + +She saw nothing; she heeded nothing. Hunger or fatigue troubled her not. +Indeed, she took no notice of where her footsteps led her. Beyond Crieff +she wandered, along the river-bank a short distance, ascending a hill, +where a wild and wonderful view spread before her. There she sat down +upon a big boulder to rest. + +Her hair blown by the chill wind, she sat staring straight before her, +thinking--ever thinking. She had not seen Lady Heyburn that day. She had +seen no one. + +At six o'clock that morning she had written a long letter to Walter +Murie. She had not mentioned the midnight incident, but she had, with +many expressions of regret, pointed out the futility of any further +affection between them. She had not attempted to excuse herself. She +merely told him that she considered herself unworthy of his love, and +because of that, and that alone, she had decided to break off their +engagement. + +A dozen times she had reread the letter after she had completed it. +Surely it was the letter of a heart-broken and desperate woman. Would he +take it in the spirit in which it was meant, she wondered. She loved +him--ah, loved him better than any one else in all the world! But she +now saw that it was useless to masquerade any longer. The blow had +fallen, and it had crushed her. She was powerless to resist, powerless +to deny the false charge against her, powerless to tell the truth. + +That letter, which she knew must come as a cruel blow to Walter, she had +given to the postman with her own hands, and it was now on its way +south. As she sat on the summit of that heather-clad hill she was +wondering what effect her written words would have upon him. He had +loved her so devotedly ever since they had been children together! Well +she knew how strong was his passion for her, how his life was at her +disposal. She knew that on reading those despairing lines of hers he +would be staggered. She recalled the dear face of her soul-mate, his hot +kisses, his soft terms of endearment, and alone there, with none to +witness her bitter grief, she burst into a flood of tears. + +The sad greyness of the landscape was in keeping with her own great +sorrow. She had lost all that was dear to her; and, young as she was, +with hardly any experience of the world and its ways, she was already +the victim of grim circumstance, broken by the grief of a self-renounced +love gnawing at her true heart. + +The knowledge that Lady Heyburn and Flockart would exult over her +downfall and exile to that tiny house in a sleepy little +Northamptonshire village did not trouble her. Her enemies had triumphed. +She had played the game and lost, just as she might have lost at +billiards or at bridge, for she was a thorough sportswoman. She only +grieved because she saw the grave peril of her dear father, and because +she now foresaw the utter hopelessness of her own happiness. + +It was better, she reflected, far better, that she should go into the +dull and dreary exile of an English village, with the unexciting +companionship of Aunt Emily, an ascetic spinster of the mid-Victorian +era, and make pretence of pique with Walter, than to reveal to him the +shameful truth. He would at least in those circumstances retain of her a +recollection fond and tender. He would not despise nor hate her, as he +most certainly would do if he knew the real astounding facts. + +How long she remained there, high up, with the chill winds of autumn +tossing her silky, light-brown hair, she knew not. Rainclouds were +gathering, and the rugged hill before her was now hidden behind a bank +of mist. Time had crept on without her heeding it, for what did time now +matter to her? What, indeed, did anything matter? Her young life, though +she was still in her teens, had ended; or, at least, as far as she was +concerned it had. Was she not calmly and coolly contemplating telling +the truth and putting an end to her existence after saving her father's +honour? + +Her sad, tearful eyes gazed slowly about her as she suddenly awakened to +the fact that she was far--very far--from home. She had been dazed, +unconscious of everything, because of the heavy burden of grief within +her heart. But now she looked forth upon the small, grey loch, with its +dark fringe of trees, the grey and purple hills beyond, the grey sky, +and the grey, filmy mists that hung everywhere. The world was, indeed, +sad and gloomy, and even Jock sat looking up at his young mistress as +though regarding her grief in wonder. + +Now and then distant shots came from across the hills. They were +shooting over the Drummond estate, she knew, for she had had an +invitation to join their luncheon-party that day. Lady Heyburn and +Flockart had no doubt gone. + +That, she told herself, was her last day in the Highlands, that +picturesque, breezy country she loved so well. It was her last day amid +those familiar places where she and Walter had so often wandered +together, and where he had told her of his passionate devotion. Well, +perhaps it was best, after all. Down south she would not be reminded of +him every moment and at every turn. No, she sighed within herself as she +rose to descend the hill, she must steel herself against her own sad +reflections. She must learn how to forget. + +"What will he say?" she murmured aloud as she went down, with Jock +frisking and barking before her. "What will he think of me when he gets +my letter? He will believe me fickle; he will believe that I have +another lover. That is certain. Well, I must allow him to believe it. We +have parted, and we must now, alas! remain apart for ever. Probably he +will seek from my father the truth concerning my disappearance from +Glencardine. Dad will tell him, no doubt. And then--then, what will he +believe? He--he will know that I am unworthy to be his wife. Yet--yet is +it not cruel that I dare not speak the truth and clear myself of this +foul charge of betraying my own dear father? Was ever a girl placed in +such a position as myself, I wonder. Has any girl ever loved a man +better than I love Walter?" Her white lips were set hard, and her fine +eyes became again bedimmed by tears. + +It commenced to rain, that fine drizzle so often experienced north of +the Tweed. But she heeded not. She was used to it. To get wet through +was, to her, quite a frequent occurrence when out fishing. Though there +was no path, she knew her way; and, walking through the wet heather, she +came after half-an-hour out upon a muddy byroad which led her into the +town of Crieff, whence her return was easy; though it was already dusk, +and the dressing-bell had gone, before she re-entered the house by the +servants' door and slipped unobserved up to her own room. + +Elise found her seated in her blue gown before the welcome fire-log, her +chin upon her breast. Her excuse was that she felt unwell; therefore one +of the maids brought her some dinner on a tray. + +Upon the mantelshelf were many photographs, some of them snap-shots of +her schoolfellows and souvenirs of holidays, the odds and ends of +portraits and scenes which every girl unconsciously collects. + +Among them, in a plain silver frame, was the picture of Walter Murie +taken in New York only a few weeks before. Upon the frame was engraved, +"Gabrielle, from Walter." She took it in her hand, and stood for a long +time motionless. Never again, alas! would she look upon that face so +dear to her. Her young heart was already broken, because she was held +fettered and powerless. + +At last she put down the portrait, and, sinking into her chair, sat +crying bitterly. Now that she was outcast by her father, to whom she had +been always such a close, devoted friend, her life was an absolute +blank. At one blow she had lost both lover and father. Already Elise had +told her that she had received instructions to pack her trunks. The +thin-nosed Frenchwoman was apparently much puzzled at the order which +Lady Heyburn had given her, and had asked the girl whom she intended to +visit. The maid had asked what dresses she would require; but Gabrielle +replied that she might pack what she liked for a long visit. The girl +could hear Elise moving about, shaking out skirts, in the adjoining +room, and making preparations for her departure on the morrow. + +Despondent, hopeless, grief-stricken, she sat before the fire for a long +time. She had locked the door and switched off the light, for it +irritated her. She loved the uncertain light of dancing flames, and sat +huddled there in her big chair for the last time. + +She was reflecting upon her own brief life. Scarcely out of the +schoolroom, she had lived most of her days up in that dear old place +where every inch of the big estate was so familiar to her. She +remembered all those happy days at school, first in England, and then in +France, with the kind-faced Sisters in their spotless head-dresses, and +the quiet, happy life of the convent. The calm, grave face of Sister +Marguerite looked down upon her from the mantelshelf as if sympathising +with her pretty pupil in those troubles that had so early come to her. +She raised her eyes, and saw the portrait. Its sight aroused within her +a new thought and fresh recollection. Had not Sister Marguerite always +taught her to beseech the Almighty's aid when in doubt or when in +trouble? Those grave, solemn words of the Mother Superior rang in her +ears, and she fell upon her knees beside her narrow bed in the alcove, +and with murmuring lips prayed for divine support and assistance. She +raised her sweet, troubled face to heaven and made confession to her +Maker. + +Then, after a long silence, she struggled again to her feet, more cool +and more collected. She took up Walter's portrait, and, kissing it, put +it away carefully in a drawer. Some of her little treasures she gathered +together and placed with it, preparatory to departure, for she would on +the morrow leave Glencardine perhaps for ever. + +The stable-clock had struck ten. To where she stood came the strident +sounds of the mechanical piano-player, for some of the gay party were +waltzing in the hall. Their merry shouts and laughter were discordant to +her ears. What cared any of those friends of her step-mother if she were +in disgrace and an outcast? + +Drawing aside the curtain, she saw that the night was bright and +starlit. She preferred the air out in the park to the sounds of gaiety +within that house which was no longer to be her home. Therefore she +slipped on a skirt and blouse, and, throwing her golf-cape across her +shoulders and a shawl over her head, she crept past the room wherein +Elise was packing her belongings, and down the back-stairs to the lawn. + +The sound of the laughter of the men and women of the shooting-party +aroused a poignant bitterness within her. As she passed across the drive +she saw a light in the library, where, no doubt, her father was sitting +in his loneliness, feeling and examining his collection of +seal-impressions. + +She turned, and, walking straight on, struck the gravelled path which +took her to the castle ruins. + +Not until the black, ponderous walls rose before her did she awaken to a +consciousness of her whereabouts. Then, entering the ruined courtyard, +she halted and listened. All was dark. Above, the stars twinkled +brightly, and in the ivy the night-birds stirred the leaves. Holding her +breath, she strained her ears. Yes, she was not deceived! There were +sounds distinct and undeniable. She was fascinated, listening again to +those shadow-voices that were always precursory of death--the fatal +Whispers. + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +BY THE MEDITERRANEAN + +It was February--not the foggy, muddy February of dear, damp Old +England, but winter beside the bright blue Mediterranean, the winter of +the Cote d'Azur. + +At the Villa Heyburn--that big, square, white house with the green +sun-shutters, surrounded by its great garden full of spreading palms, +sweet-smelling mimosa, orange-trees laden with golden fruit, and bright +geraniums, up on the Berigo at San Remo--Lady Heyburn had that afternoon +given a big luncheon-party. The smartest people wintering in that most +sheltered nook of the Italian Riviera had eaten and gossiped and +flirted, and gone back to their villas and hotels. Dull persons found no +place in Lady Heyburn's circle. Most of the people were those she knew +in London or in Paris, including a sprinkling of cosmopolitans, a +Russian prince notorious for his losses over at the new _cercle_ at +Cannes, a divorced Austrian Archduchess, and two or three well-known +diplomats. + +"Dear old Henry" remained, of course, at Glencardine, as he always did. +Lady Heyburn looked upon her winter visit to that beautiful villa +overlooking the calm sapphire sea as her annual emancipation. Henry was +a dear old fellow, she openly confided to her friends, but his +affliction made him terribly trying. + +But Jimmy Flockart, the good-looking, amusing, well-dressed idler, was +living down at the "Savoy," and was daily in her company, driving, +motoring, picnicking, making excursions in the mountains, or taking +trips over to "Monte" by the _train-de-luxe_. He had left the villa +early in the afternoon, returned to his hotel, changed his smart +flannels for a tweed suit, and, taking a stout stick, had set off alone +for his daily constitutional along the sea-road in the direction of that +pretty but half-deserted little watering-place, Ospedaletti. + +Straight before him, into the unruffled, tideless sea, the sun was +sinking in all its blood-red glory as he went at swinging pace along the +white, dusty road, past the _octroi_ barrier, and out into the country +where, on the left, the waves lazily lapped the grey rocks, while upon +the right the fertile slopes were covered with carnations and violets +growing for the markets of Paris and London. In the air was a delightful +perfume, the freshness of the sea in combination with the sweetness of +the flowers. + +A big red motor-car dashed suddenly round a corner, raising a cloud of +dust. An American party were on their way from Genoa to the frontier +along the Corniche, one of the most picturesque routes in all the world. + +James Flockart had no eyes for beauty. He was too occupied by certain +grave apprehensions. That morning he had walked in the garden with Lady +Heyburn, and had a long chat with her. Her attitude had been peculiar. +He could not make her out. She had begged him to promise to leave San +Remo, and when asked to tell the reason of this sudden demand she had +firmly refused. + +"You must leave here, Jimmy," she had said quite calmly. "Go down to +Rome, to Palermo, to Ragusa, or somewhere where you can put in a month +or so in comfort. The Villa Igiea at Palermo would suit you quite +well--lots of smart people, and very decent cooking." + +"Well," he laughed, "as far as hotels go, nothing could be worse than +this place. I'd never put my nose into this hole if it were not for the +fact that you come here. There isn't a hotel worth the name. When one +goes to Monte, or Cannes, or even decaying Nice, one can get decent +cooking. But here--ugh!" and he shrugged his shoulders. "Price higher +than the 'Ritz' in Paris, food fourth-rate, rooms cheaply decorated, and +a dullness unequalled." + +"My dear Jimmy," laughed her ladyship, "you're such a cosmopolitan that +you're incorrigible. I know you don't like this place. You've been here +six weeks, so go." + +"You've had a letter from the old man, eh?" + +"Yes, I have," she replied, and he saw that her countenance changed; but +she would say nothing more. She had decided that he must leave San Remo, +and would hear no argument to the contrary. + +The southern sun sank slowly into the sea, now grey but waveless. On the +horizon lay the long smoke-trail of a passing steamer eastward bound. He +had rounded the steep, rocky headland, and in the hollow before him +nestled the little village of Ospedaletti, with its closed casino, its +rows of small villas, and its palm-lined _passeggiata_. + +A hundred yards farther on he saw the figure of a rather shabby, +middle-aged man, in a faded grey overcoat and grey soft felt-hat of the +mode usual on the Riviera, but discoloured by long wear, leaning upon +the low sea-wall and smoking a cigarette. No other person was in the +vicinity, and it was quickly evident from the manner in which the +wayfarer recognised him and came forward to meet him with outstretched +hand that they had met by appointment. Short of stature as he was, with +fair hair, colourless eyes, and a fair moustache, his slouching +appearance was that of one who had seen better days, even though there +still remained about him a vestige of dandyism. The close observer +would, however, detect that his clothes, shabby though they were, were +of foreign cut, and that his greeting was of that demonstrative +character that betrayed his foreign birth. + +"Well, my dear Krail," exclaimed Flockart, after they had shaken hands +and stood together leaning upon the sea-wall, "you got my wire in +Huntingdon? I was uncertain whether you were at the 'George' or at the +'Fountain,' so I sent a message to both." + +"I was at the 'George,' and left an hour after receipt of your wire." + +"Well, tell me what has happened. How are things up at Glencardine?" + +"Goslin is with the old fellow. He has taken the girl's place as his +confidential secretary," was the shabby man's reply, speaking with a +foreign accent. "Walter Murie was at home for Christmas, but went to +Cairo." + +"And how are matters in Paris?" + +"They are working hard, but it's an uphill pull. The old man is a crafty +old bird. Those papers you got from the safe had been cunningly prepared +for anybody who sought to obtain information. The consequence is that +we've shown our hand, and heavily handicapped ourselves thereby." + +"You told me all that when you were down here a month ago," Flockart +said impatiently. + +"You didn't believe me then. You do now, I suppose?" + +"I've never denied it," Flockart declared, offering the stranger a +Russian cigarette from his gold case. "I was completely misled, and by +the girl also." + +"The girl's influence with her father is happily quite at an end," +remarked the shabby man. "I saw her last week in Woodnewton. The change +from Glencardine to an eight-roomed cottage in a village street must be +rather severe." + +"Only what she deserves," snapped Flockart. "She defied us." + +"Granted. But I cannot help thinking that we haven't played a very fair +game," said the man. "Remember, she's only a girl." + +"But dangerous to us and to our plans, my dear Krail. She knows a lot." + +"Because--well, forgive me for saying so, my dear Flockart--because +you've been a fool, and have allowed her to know." + +"It wasn't I; it was the woman." + +"Lady Heyburn! Why, I always believed her to be the soul of discretion." + +"She's been too defiant of consequences. A dozen times I've warned her; +but she will not heed." + +"Then she'll land herself in a deep hole if she isn't careful," replied +the foreigner, speaking very fair English. "Does she know I'm here?" + +"Of course not. If we're to play the game she must know nothing. She's +already inclined to throw prudence to the winds, and to confess all to +her husband." + +"Confess!" gasped the stranger, paling beneath his rather sallow skin. +"_Per Bacco!_ she's not going to be such an idiot, surely?" + +"We were run so close, and so narrowly escaped discovery after I got at +those papers at Glencardine, that she seems to have lost heart," +Flockart remarked. + +"But if she acted the fool and told Sir Henry, it would mean ruin for +us, and that would also mean----" + +"It would mean exposure for Gabrielle," interrupted Flockart. "The old +man dare not lift his voice for his daughter's sake." + +"Ah," exclaimed Krail, "that's just where you've acted injudiciously! +You've set him against her; therefore he wouldn't spare her." + +"It was imperative. I couldn't afford to be found prying into the old +man's papers, could I? I got impressions of his key while walking in the +park one day. He's never suspected it." + +"Of course not. He believes in you," laughed his friend, "as one of the +few upright men who are his friends! But," he added, "you've done wrong, +my dear fellow, to trust a woman with a secret. Depend upon it, her +ladyship will let you down." + +"Well, if she does," remarked Flockart, with a shrug of the shoulders, +"she'll have to suffer with me. You know where we should all find +ourselves." + +The man pulled a wry face and puffed at his cigarette in silence. + +"What does the girl do?" asked Flockart a few moments later. + +"Well, she seems to have a pretty dull time with the old lady. I stayed +at the 'Cardigan Arms' at Woodnewton for two days--a miserable little +place--and watched her pretty closely. She's out a good deal, rambling +alone across the country with a collie belonging to a neighbouring +farmer. She's the very picture of sadness, poor little girl!" + +"You seem to sympathise with her, Krail. Why, does she not stand between +us and fortune?" + +"She'll stand between us and a court of assize if that woman acts the +fool!" declared the shabby stranger, who moved so rapidly and whose +vigilance seemed unequalled. + +"If we go, she shall go also," Flockart declared in a threatening voice. + +"But you must prevent such a _contretemps_," Krail urged. + +"Ah, it's all very well to talk like that! But you know enough of her +ladyship to be aware that she acts on her own initiative." + +"That shows that she's no fool," remarked the foreigner quickly. "You +who hold her in the hollow of your hand must prevent her from opening up +to her husband. The whole future lies with you." + +"And what is the future without money? We want a few thousands for +immediate necessities, both of us. The woman's allowance from her +husband is nowadays a mere bagatelle." + +"Because he probably knows that some of her money has gone into your +pockets, my dear boy." + +"No; he's completely in ignorance of that. How, indeed, could he know? +She takes very good care there's no possibility of his finding out." + +"Well," remarked the stranger, "that's what I fear has happened, or may +one day happen. The fact is, _caro mio_, we are in a quandary at the +present moment. You were a bit too confident in dealing with those +documents you found at Glencardine. You should have taken her ladyship +into your confidence and got her to pump her husband concerning them. If +you had, we shouldn't have made the mess of it that we have done." + +"I must admit, Krail, that what you say is true," declared the +well-dressed man. "You are such a philosopher always! I asked you to +come here in secret to explain the exact position." + +"It is one of peril. We are checkmated. Goslin holds the whole position +in his hands, and will keep it." + +"Very fortunately for you he doesn't, though we were very near exposure +when I went out to Athens and made a fool of myself upon the report +furnished by you." + +"I believed it to be a genuine one. I had no idea that the old man was +so crafty." + +"Exactly. And if he displayed such clever ingenuity and forethought in +laying a trap for the inquisitive, is it not more than likely that there +may be other traps baited with equal craft and cunning?" + +"Then how are we to make the _coup_?" Flockart asked, looking into the +colourless eyes of his friend. + +"We shall, I fear, never make it, unless----" + +"Unless what?" he asked. + +"Unless the old man meets with an accident," replied the other, in a +low, distinct voice. "_Blind men sometimes do, you know!_" + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +WHICH SHOWS A SHABBY FOREIGNER + +Felix Krail, his cigarette held half-way to his lips, stood watching the +effect of his insinuation. He saw a faint smile playing about Flockart's +lips, and knew that it appealed to him. Old Sir Henry Heyburn had laid a +clever trap for him, a trap into which he himself believed that his +daughter had fallen. Why should not Flockart retaliate? + +The shabby stranger, whose own ingenuity and double-dealing were little +short of marvellous, and under whose watchful vigilance the Heyburn +household had been ever since her ladyship and her friend Flockart had +gone south, stood silent, but in complete satisfaction. + +The well-dressed Riviera-lounger--the man so well known at all the +various gay resorts from Ventimiglia along to Cannes, and who was a +member of the Fetes Committee at San Remo and at Nice--merely exchanged +glances with his friend and smiled. Quickly, however, he changed the +topic of conversation. "And what's occurring in Paris?" + +"Ah, there we have the puzzle!" replied the man Krail, his accent being +an unfamiliar one--so unfamiliar, indeed, that those unacquainted with +the truth were always placed in doubt regarding his true nationality. + +"But you've made inquiry?" asked his friend quickly. + +"Of course; but the business is kept far too close. Every precaution is +taken to prevent anything leaking out," Krail responded. + +"The clerks will speak, won't they?" the other said. + +"_Mon cher ami_, they know no more of the business of the mysterious +firm of which the blind Baronet is the head than we do ourselves," said +Krail. + +"They make enormous financial deals, that's very certain." + +"Not deals--but _coups_ for themselves," he laughed, correcting +Flockart. "Recollect what I discovered in Athens, and the extraordinary +connection you found in Brussels." + +"Ah, yes. You mean that clever crowd--four men and two women who were +working the gambling concession from the Dutch Government!" exclaimed +Flockart. "Yes, that was a complete mystery. They sent wires in cipher +to Sir Henry at Glencardine. I managed to get a glance at one of them, +and it was signed 'Metaforos.'" + +"That's their Paris cable address," said his companion. + +"Surely you, with your network of sources of information, and your own +genius for discovering secrets, ought to be able to reveal the true +nature of Sir Henry's business. Is it an honest one?" asked Flockart. + +"I think not." + +"Think! Why, my dear Felix, this isn't like you only to think; you +always _know_. You're so certain of your facts that I've always banked +upon them." + +The other gave his shoulders a shrug of indecision. "It was not a +judicious move on your part to get rid of the girl from Glencardine," he +said slowly. "While she was there we had a chance of getting at some +clue. But now old Goslin has taken her place we may just as well abandon +investigation at that end." + +"You've failed, Krail, and attribute your failure to me," protested his +companion. "How could I risk being ignominiously kicked out of +Glencardine as a spy?" + +"Whatever attitude you might have taken would have had the same result. +We used the information, and found ourselves fooled--tricked by a very +crafty old man, who actually prepared those documents in case he was +betrayed." + +"Admitted," said Flockart. "But even though we made fools of ourselves +in Athens, and caused the Greek Government to look upon us as rogues and +liars, the girl is suspected; and I for one don't mean to give in before +we've secured a nice, snug little sum." + +"How are we to do it?" + +"By obtaining knowledge of the game being played in Paris, and working +in an opposite direction," Flockart replied. "We are agreed upon one +point: that for the past few years, ever since Goslin came on the scene, +Sir Henry's business--a big one, there is no doubt--has been of a +mysterious and therefore shady character. By his confidence in +Gabrielle, his care that nobody ever got a chance inside that safe, his +regular consultations with Goslin (who travelled from Paris specially to +see him), his constant telegrams in cipher, and his refusal to allow +even his wife to obtain the slightest inkling into his private affairs, +it is shown that he fears exposure. Do you agree?" + +"Most certainly I do." + +"Well, any man who is in dread of the truth becoming known must be +carrying on some negotiations the reverse of creditable. He is the +moving spirit of that shady house, without a doubt," declared Flockart, +who had so often grasped the blind man's hand in friendship. "In such +fear that his transactions should become known, and that exposure might +result, he actually had prepared documents on purpose to mislead those +who pried into his affairs. Therefore, the instant we discover the +truth, fortune will be at our hand. We all want money, you, I, and Lady +Heyburn--and money we'll have." + +"With these sentiments, my dear friend, I entirely and absolutely +agree," remarked the shabby man, lighting a fresh cigarette. "But one +fact you seem to have entirely overlooked." + +"What?" + +"The girl. She stands between you, and she might come back into the old +man's favour, you know." + +"And even though she did, that makes no difference," Flockart answered +defiantly. + +"Why?" + +"Because she dare not say a single word against me." + +Krail looked him straight in the face with considerable surprise, but +made no comment. + +"She knows better," Flockart added. + +"Never believe too much in your own power with a woman, _mon cher ami_," +remarked the other dubiously. "She's young, therefore of a romantic turn +of mind. She's in love, remember, which makes matters much worse for +us." + +"Why?" + +"Because, being in love, she may become seized with a sentimental fit. +This ends generally in a determination of self-sacrifice; and in such +case she would tell the truth in defiance of you, and would be heedless +of her own danger." + +Flockart drew a long breath. What this man said was, he knew within his +own heart, only too true of the girl towards whom they had been so cruel +and so unscrupulous. His had been a lifelong scheme, and as part of his +scheme in conjunction with the woman who was Sir Henry's wife, it had +been unfortunately compulsory to sacrifice the girl who was the blind +man's right hand. + +Yes, Gabrielle was deeply in love with Walter Murie--the man upon whom +Sir Henry now looked as his enemy, and who would have exposed him to the +Greek Government if the blind man had not been too clever. The Baronet, +after his daughter's confession, naturally attributed her curiosity to +Walter's initiative, the more especially that Walter had been in Paris, +and, it was believed, in Athens also. + +The pair were, however, now separated. Krail, in pursuit of his diligent +inquiries, had actually been in Woodnewton, and seen the lonely little +figure, sad and dejected, taking long rambles accompanied only by a +farmer's sheep-dog. Young Murie had not been there; nor did the pair now +correspond. This much Krail had himself discovered. + +The problem placed before Flockart by his shabby friend was a somewhat +disconcerting one. On the one hand, Lady Heyburn had urged him to leave +the Riviera, without giving him any reason, and on the other, he had the +ever-present danger of Gabrielle, in a sudden fit of sentimental +self-sacrifice, "giving him away." If she did, what then? The mere +suggestion caused him to bite his nether lip. + +Krail knew a good deal, but he did not know all. Perhaps it was as well +that he did not. There is a code of honour among adventurers all the +world over; but few of them can resist the practice of blackmail when +they chance to fall upon evil days. + +"Yes," Flockart said reflectively, as at Krail's suggestion they turned +and began to descend the steep hill towards Ospedaletti, "perhaps it's a +pity, after all, that the girl left Glencardine. Yet surely she's safer +with her aunt?" + +"She was driven from Glencardine!" + +"By her father." + +"You sacrificed her in order to save yourself. That was but natural. +It's a pity, however, you didn't take my advice." + +"I suggested it to Lady Heyburn. But she would have nothing to do with +it. She declared that such a course was far too dangerous." + +"Dangerous!" echoed the shabby man. "Surely it could not have placed +either of you in any greater danger than you are in already?" + +"She didn't like it." + +"Few people do," laughed the other. "But, depend upon it, it's the only +way. She wouldn't, at any rate, have had an opportunity of telling the +truth." + +Flockart pulled a wry face, and after a silence of a few moments said, +"Don't let us discuss that. We fully considered all the pros and cons, +at the time." + +"Her ladyship is growing scrupulously honest of late," sneered his +companion. "She'll try to get rid of you very soon, I expect." + +The latter sentence was more full of meaning than the speaker dreamed. +The words, falling upon Flockart's ears, caused him to wince. Was her +ladyship really trying to rid herself of his influence? He laughed +within himself at the thought of her endeavouring to release herself +from the bond. For her he had never, at any moment, entertained either +admiration or affection. Their association had always been purely one of +business--business, be it said, in which he made the profits and she the +losses. + +"It would hardly be an easy matter for her," replied the easy-going, +audacious adventurer. + +"She seems to be very popular up at Glencardine," remarked the +foreigner, "because she's extravagant and spends money in the +neighbourhood, I suppose. But the people in Auchterarder village +criticise her treatment of Gabrielle. They hear gossip from the +servants, I expect." + +"They should know of the girl's treatment of her stepmother," exclaimed +Flockart. "But there, villagers are always prone to listen to and +embroider any stories concerning the private life of the gentry. It's +just the same in Scotland as in any other country in the world." + +"Ah!" continued Flockart, "in Scotland the old families are gradually +decaying, and their estates are falling into the hands of blatant +parvenus. Counter-jumpers stalk deer nowadays, and city clerks on their +holidays shoot over peers' preserves. The humble Scot sees it all with +regret, because he has no real liking for this latter-day invasion by +the newly-rich English. Cotton-spinners from Lancashire buy +deer-forests, and soap-boilers from Limehouse purchase castles with +family portraits and ghosts complete." + +"Ah! speaking of the supernatural," exclaimed Krail suddenly, "do you +know I had a most extraordinary and weird experience when at Glencardine +about three weeks ago. I actually heard the Whispers!" + +Flockart stared hard at the man at his side, and, laughing outright, +said, "Well, that's the best joke I've heard to-day. You, of all men, to +be taken in by a mere superstition." + +"But, my dear friend, I heard them," said Krail. "I swear I actually +heard them! And I--well, I admit to you, even though you may laugh at me +for being a superstitious fool--I somehow anticipate that something +uncanny is about to happen to me." + +"You're going to die, like all the rest of them, I suppose," laughed his +friend, as they descended the dusty, winding road that led to the +palm-lined promenade of the quiet little Mediterranean watering-place. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +"WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK" + +On their left were several white villas, before which pink and scarlet +geraniums ran riot, with spreading mimosas golden with their feathery +blossom, for Ospedaletti makes a frantic, if vain, bid for popularity as +a winter-resort. Its deadly dullness, however, is too well known to the +habitue of the Riviera; and its casino, which never obtained a licence, +imparts to it the air of painful effort at gaiety. + +"Well," remarked the shabby man as they passed along and out upon the +sea-road in the direction of Bordighera, "I always looked upon what the +people at Auchterarder said regarding the Whispers as a mere myth. But +now, having heard them with my own ears, how can I have further doubt?" + +"I've listened in the Castle ruins a good many times, my dear Krail," +replied the other, "but I've never heard anything more exciting than an +owl. Indeed, Lady Heyburn and I, when there was so much gossip about the +strange noises some two years ago, set to work to investigate. We went +there at least a dozen times, but without result; only both of us caught +bad colds." + +"Well," exclaimed Krail, "I used to ridicule the weird stories I heard +in the village about the Devil's Whisper, and all that. But by mere +chance I happened to be at the spot one bright night, and I heard +distinct whisperings, just as had been described to me. They gave me a +very creepy feeling, I can assure you." + +"Bosh! Now, do you believe in ghosts, you man-of-the-world that you are, +my dear Felix?" + +"No. Most decidedly I don't." + +"Then what you've heard is only in imagination, depend upon it. The +supernatural doesn't exist in Glencardine, that's quite certain," +declared Flockart. "The fact is that there's so much tradition and +legendary lore connected with the old place, and its early owners were +such a set of bold and defiant robbers, that for generations the +peasantry have held it in awe. Hence all sorts of weird and terrible +stories have been invented and handed down, until the present age +believes them to be based upon fact." + +"But, my dear friend, I actually heard the Whispers--heard them with my +own ears," Krail asserted. "I happened to be about the place that night, +trying to get a peep into the library, where Goslin and the old man +were, I believe, busy at work. But the blinds fitted too closely, so +that I couldn't see inside. The keeper and his men were, I knew, down in +the village; therefore I took a stroll towards the ruins, and, as it was +a beautiful night, I sat down in the courtyard to have a smoke. Then, of +a sudden, I heard low voices quite distinctly. They startled me, for not +until they fell upon my ears did I recall the stories told to me weeks +before." + +"If Stewart or any of the under-keepers had found you prowling about the +Castle grounds at that hour they might have asked you awkward +questions," remarked Flockart. + +"Oh," laughed the other, "they all know me as a visitor to the village +fond of walking exercise. I took very good care that they should all +know me, so that as few explanations as possible would be necessary. As +you well know, the secret of all my successes is that I never leave +anything to chance." + +"To go peeping about outside the house and trying to took in at lighted +windows sounds a rather injudicious proceeding," his companion declared. + +"Not if proper precautions are taken, as I took them. I was weeks in +that terribly dull Scotch village, but nobody suspected my real mission. +I made quite a large circle of friends at the 'Star,' who all believed +me to be a foreign ornithologist writing a book upon the birds of +Scotland. Trust me to tell people a good story." + +"Well," exclaimed Flockart, after a long silence, "those Whispers are +certainly a mystery, more especially if you've actually heard them. On +two or three occasions I've spoken to Sir Henry about them. He ridicules +the idea, yet he admitted to me one evening that the voices had really +been heard. I declared that the most remarkable fact was the sudden +death of each person who had listened and heard them. It is a curious +phenomenon, which certainly should be investigated." + +"The inference is that I, having listened to the ghostly voices, am +doomed to a sudden and violent end," remarked the shabby stranger quite +gloomily. + +Flockart laughed. "Really, Felix, this is too funny!" he said. "Fancy +your taking notice of such old wives' fables! Why, my dear fellow, +you've got many years of constant activity before you yet. You must +return to Paris in the morning, and watch in patience." + +"I have watched, but discovered nothing." + +"Perhaps I'll come and assist you; most probably I shall." + +"No, don't! As soon as you leave San Remo Sir Henry will know, and he +might suspect." + +"Suspect what?" + +"That you are in search of the truth, and of fortune in consequence." + +"He believes in me. Only the other day I had a letter from him written +in Goslin's hand, repeating the confidence he reposes in me." + +"Exactly. You must remain down here for the present." + +Flockart recollected the puzzling decision of Lady Heyburn, and remained +silent. + +"Our chief peril is still the one which has faced us all along," went on +the man in the grey hat--"the peril that the girl may tell about that +awkward affair at Chantilly." + +"She dare not," Flockart assured him quickly. + +Krail shook his head dubiously. "She's leading a lonely life. Her heart +is broken, and she believes herself, as every other young girl does, to +be without a future. Therefore, she's brooding over it. One never knows +in such cases when a girl may fling all prudence to the winds," he said. +"If she did, then nothing could save us." + +"That's just what her ladyship said the other day," answered Flockart, +tossing away his cigarette. "But you don't know that I hold her +irrevocably. She dare not say a single word. If she dare, why did she +not tell the truth about the safe?" + +"Probably because it was all too sudden. She now finds life in that +dismal little village intolerable. She's a girl of spirit, you know, and +has always been used to luxury and freedom. To live with an old woman in +a country cottage away from all her friends must be maddening. No, my +dear James, in this you've acted most injudiciously. You were devoid of +your usual foresight. Depend upon it, a very serious danger threatens. +She will speak." + +"I tell you she dare not. Rest your mind assured." + +"She will." + +"_She shall not!_" + +"How, pray, can you close her mouth?" asked the foreigner. + +Flockart's eyes met his. In them was a curious expression, almost a +glitter. + +Krail understood. He shrugged his shoulders, but uttered no word. His +gesture was, however, that of one unconvinced. Adventurer as he was, +ingenious and unscrupulous, he lived from hand to mouth. Sometimes he +made a big _coup_ and placed himself in funds. But following such an +event he was open-handed and generous to his friends, extravagant in his +expenditure; and very soon found himself under the necessity to exercise +his wits in order to obtain the next louis. He had known Flockart for +years as one of his own class. They had first met long ago on board a +Castle liner homeward bound from Capetown, where both found themselves +playing a crooked game. A friendship begotten of dishonesty had sprung +up between them, and in consequence they had thrown in their lot +together more than once with considerable financial advantage. + +The present affair was, however, not much to Krail's liking, and this he +had more than once told his friend. It was quite possible that if they +could discover the mysterious source of this blind man's wealth they +might, by judiciously levying blackmail through a third party, secure a +very handsome income which he was to share with Flockart and her +ladyship. + +The last-named Krail had always admitted to be one of the cleverest +women he had ever met. His only surprise had been that she, as Sir +Henry's wife, was unable to get at the facts which were so cleverly +withheld. It only showed, however, that the Baronet, though deprived of +eyesight, was even more clever than the unscrupulous woman he had so +foolishly married. + +Krail held Lady Heyburn in distinct distrust. He had once had dealings +with her which had turned out the reverse of satisfactory. Instinctively +he knew that, in order to save herself, if exposure ever came, she would +"give him away" without the least compunction. + +What had puzzled him for several years, and what, indeed, had puzzled +other people, was the reason of the close friendship between Flockart +and the Baronet's wife. It was certainly not affection. He knew Flockart +intimately, and had knowledge of his private affairs; therefore he was +well aware of the existence of an unknown and rather insignificant woman +to whom he was in secret devoted. + +No; the bond between the pair was an entirely mysterious one. He knew +that on more than one occasion, when Flockart's demands for money had +been a little too frequent, she had resisted and attempted to withdraw +from further association with him. Yet by a single word, or even a look, +he could compel her to disgorge the funds he needed, for she had even +handed him some of her trinkets to pawn until she could obtain further +funds from Sir Henry to redeem them. + +As they walked together along the white Corniche Road, their faces set +towards the gorgeous southern afterglow, while the waves lapped lazily +on the grey rocks, all these puzzling thoughts recurred to Krail. + +"Lady Heyburn seems still to remain your very devoted friend," he +remarked at last with a meaning smile. "I see from the _New York Herald_ +what pleasant parties she gives, and how she is the heart and soul of +social merriment in San Remo. By Jove, James! you're a lucky man to +possess such a popular hostess as friend." + +"Yes," laughed Flockart, "Winnie is a regular pal. Without her I should +have been broken long ago. But she's always ready to help me along." + +"People have already remarked upon your remarkable friendship," said his +friend, "and many ill-natured allegations have been made." + +"Oh, yes, I'm quite well aware of that, my dear fellow. It has pained me +more than enough. You yourself know that, as far as affection goes, I've +never in my life entertained a spark of it for Winnie. We were children +together, and have been friends always." + +"Quite so!" exclaimed Krail, smiling. "That's a pretty good story to +tell the world. But there's a point where mere friendship must break, +you know." + +"What do you mean?" asked the other, glancing at him in surprise. + +"Well, the story you tell other people may be picturesque and romantic, +but with me it's just a trifle weak. Lady Heyburn doesn't give her +pearls to be pawned, out of mere friendship, you know." + +Flockart was silent. He knew too well that the man walking at his side +was as clever an intriguer and as bold an adventurer as had ever moved +up and down Europe "working the game" in search of pigeons to pluck. His +shabbiness was assumed. He had alighted at Bordighera station from the +_rapide_ from Paris, spent the night at a third-rate hotel in order not +to be recognised at the Angst or any of the smarter houses, and had met +him by appointment to explain the present situation. His remarks, +however, were the reverse of reassuring. What did he suspect? + +"I don't quite follow you, Krail," Flockart said. + +"I meant to imply that if friendship only links you with Lady Heyburn, +the chain may quite easily snap," he remarked. + +He looked at his friend, much puzzled. He could see no point in that +observation. + +Krail read what was passing in the other's mind, and added, "I know, +_mon cher ami_, that affection from her ladyship is entirely out of the +question. The gossips are liars. And----" + +"Sir Henry himself is quite aware of that. I have already spoken quite +plainly and openly to him, and suggested my departure from Glencardine +on account of ill-natured remarks by her ladyship's enemies. But he +would not hear of my leaving, and pressed me to remain." + +Krail looked at him in blank surprise. "Well," he said, "if you've been +bold enough to do this in face of the gossip, then you're a much +cleverer man than ever I took you to be." + +For answer, Flockart took some letters from his breast-pocket, selected +one written in a foreign hand, and gave it to Krail to read. It was from +the hermit of Glencardine, written at his dictation by Monsieur Goslin, +and was couched in the warmest and most confidential terms. + +"Look here, James," exclaimed the shabby man, handing back the letter, +"I'm going to be perfectly frank with you. Tell me if I speak the truth +or if I lie. It is neither affection nor friendship which links your +life with that woman's. Am I right?" + +Flockart did not answer for some moments. His eyes were cast upon the +ground. "Yes, Krail," he admitted at last when the question had been put +to him a second time--"yes, Krail. You speak the truth. It is neither +affection nor friendship." + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +SHOWS GABRIELLE IN EXILE + +Midway between historic Fotheringhay and ancient Apethorpe, the +ancestral seat of the Earls of Westmorland, lay the long, straggling, +and rather poverty-stricken village of Woodnewton. Like many other +Northamptonshire villages, it consisted of one long street of cottages, +many of them with dormer windows peeping from beneath the brown thatch, +the better houses of stone, with old mullioned windows, but all of them +more or less in stages of decay. With the depreciation in agriculture, +Woodnewton, once quite a prosperous little place, was now terribly +shabby and depressing. + +As he entered the village, the first object that met the eye of the +stranger was a barn with the roof half fallen away, and next it a ruined +house with its moss-grown thatch full of holes. The paving was ill-kept, +and even the several inns bore an appearance of struggles with poverty. + +Half-way up the long, straight, dispiriting street stood a cottage +larger and neater-looking than the rest. Its ugly exterior was +half-hidden by ivy, which had been cut away from the diamond-paned +windows; while, unlike its neighbours, its roof was tiled and its brown +door newly painted and highly varnished. + +Old Miss Heyburn lived there, and had lived there for the past +half-century. The prim, grey-haired, and somewhat eccentric old lady was +a well-known figure to all on that country-side. Twice each Sunday, with +her large-type Prayer-book in her hand, and her steel-rimmed spectacles +on her thin nose, she walked to church, while she was one of the +principal supporters of the village clothing-club and such-like +institutions inaugurated by the worthy rector. + +Essentially an ascetic person, she was looked upon with fear by all the +villagers. Her manner was brusque, her speech sharp, and her criticism +of neglectful mothers caustic and much to the point. Prim, always in +black bonnet and jet-trimmed cape of years gone by, both in summer and +winter, she took no heed of the vagaries of fashion, even when they +reached Woodnewton so tardily. + +The common report was that when a girl she had been "crossed in love," +for her single maidservant she always trained to a sober and loveless +life like her own, and as soon as a girl cast an eye upon a likely swain +she was ignominiously dismissed. + +That the sharp-tongued spinster possessed means was undoubted. It was +known that she was sister of Sir Henry Heyburn of Caistor, in +Lincolnshire; and, on account of her social standing, she on rare +occasions was bidden to the omnium gatherings at some of the mansions in +the neighbourhood. She seldom accepted; but when she did it was only to +satisfy her curiosity and to criticise. + +The household of two, the old lady and her exemplary maid, was assuredly +a dull one. Meals were taken with punctual regularity amid a cleanliness +that was almost painful. The tiny drawing-room, with its row of +window-plants, including a pot of strong-smelling musk, was hardly ever +entered. Not a speck of dust was allowed anywhere, for Miss Emily's eye +was sharp, and woe betide the maid if a mere suspicion of dirt were +discovered! Everything was kept locked up. One maid who resigned +hurriedly, refusing to be criticised, afterwards declared that her +mistress kept the paraffin under lock and key. + +And into this uncomfortably prim and proper household little Gabrielle +had suddenly been introduced. Her heart overburdened by grief, and full +of regret at being compelled to part from the father she so fondly +loved, she had accepted the inevitable, fully realising the dull +greyness of the life that lay before her. Surely her exile there was a +cruel and crushing one! The house seemed so tiny and so suffocating +after the splendid halls and huge rooms at Glencardine, while her aunt's +constant sarcasm about her father--whom she had not seen for eight +years--was particularly galling. + +The woman treated the girl as a wayward child sent there for punishment +and correction. She showed her neither kindness nor consideration; for, +truth to tell, it annoyed her to think that her brother should have +imposed the girl upon her. She hated to be bothered with the girl; but, +existing upon Sir Henry's charity, as she really did, though none knew +it, she could do no otherwise than accept his daughter as her guest. + +Days, weeks, months had passed, each day dragging on as its predecessor, +a wretched, hopeless, despairing existence to a girl so full of life and +vitality as Gabrielle. Though she had written several times to her +father, he had sent her no reply. To her mother at San Remo she had also +written, and from her had received one letter, cold and unresponsive. +From Walter Murie nothing--not a single word. + +The well-thumbed books in the village library she had read, as well as +those in the possession of her aunt. She had tried needlework, problems +of patience, and the translation of a few chapters of an Italian novel +into English in order to occupy her time. But those hours when she was +alone in her little upstairs room with the sloping roof passed, alas! so +very slowly. + +Upon her, ever oppressive, were thoughts of that bitter past. At one +staggering blow she had lost all that had made her young life worth +living--her father's esteem and her lover's love. She was innocent, +entirely innocent, of the terrible allegations against her, and yet she +was so utterly defenceless! + +Often she sat at her little window for hours watching the lethargy of +village life in the street below, that rural life in which the rector +and the schoolmaster were the principal figures. The dullness of it all +was maddening. Her aunt's mid-Victorian primness, her snappishness +towards the trembling maid, and the thousand and one rules of her daily +life irritated her and jarred upon her nerves. + +So, in order to kill time, and at the same time to study the antiquities +of the neighbourhood--her father having taught her so much deep +antiquarian knowledge--it had been her habit for three months past to +take long walks for many miles across the country, accompanied by the +black collie Rover belonging to a young farmer who lived at the end of +the village. The animal had one day attached itself to her while she was +taking a walk on the Apethorpe road; and now, by her feeding him daily +and making a pet of him, the girl and the dog had become inseparable. By +long walks and short train-journeys she had, in three months, been able +to inspect most of the antiquities of Northamptonshire. Much of the +history of the county was intensely interesting: the connection of old +Fotheringhay with the ill-fated Mary Queen of Scots, the beauties of +Peterborough Cathedral, the splendid old Tudor house of Deene (the home +of the Earls of Cardigan), the legends of King John concerning King's +Cliffe, the gaunt splendour of ruined Kirby, and the old-world charm of +Apethorpe. All these, and many others, had great attraction for her. She +read them up in books she ordered from London, and then visited the old +places with all the enthusiasm of a spectacled antiquary. + +Every day, no matter what the weather, she might be seen, in her thick +boots, burberry, and tam o'shanter, trudging along the roads or across +the fields accompanied by the faithful collie. The winter had been a +comparatively mild one, with excessive rain. But no downpour troubled +her. She liked the rain to beat into her face, for the dismal, +monotonous cheerlessness of the brown fields, bare trees, and muddy +roads was in keeping with the tragedy of her own young life. + +She knew that her aunt Emily disliked her. The covert sneers, the +caustic criticisms, and the go-to-meeting attitude of the old lady +irritated the girl beyond measure. She was not wanted in that painfully +prim cottage, and had been made to understand it from the first day. + +Hence it was that she spent all the time she possibly could out of +doors. Alone she had traversed the whole county, seeking permission to +glance at the interior of any old house or building that promised +archaeological interest, and by that means making some curious +friendships. + +Many people regarded the pretty young girl who made a study of old +churches and old houses as somewhat eccentric. Local antiquaries, +however, stared at her in wonder when they found that she was possessed +of knowledge far more profound than theirs, and that she could decipher +old documents and read Latin inscriptions with ease. + +She made few friends, preferring solitude and reflection to visiting and +gossiping. Hers was, indeed, a pathetic little figure, and the +countryfolk used to stare at her in surprise and sigh as she passed +through the various little hamlets and villages so regularly, the black +collie bounding before her. + +Quickly she had become known as "Miss Heyburn's niece," and the report +having spread that she was "a bit eccentric, poor thing," people soon +ceased to wonder, and began to regard that pale, sad face with sympathy. +The whole country-side was wondering why such a pretty young lady had +gone to live in the deadly dullness of Woodnewton, and what was the +cause of that great sorrow written upon her countenance. + +Her daily burden of bitter reflection was, indeed, hard to bear. Her one +thought, as she walked those miles of lonely rural byways, so bare and +cheerless, was of Walter--her Walter--the man who, she knew, would have +willingly given his very life for hers. She had met her just punishment, +and was now endeavouring to bear it bravely. She had renounced his love +for ever. + +One afternoon, dark and rainy, in the gloom of early March, she was +sitting at the old-fashioned and rather tuneless piano in the damp, +unused "best room," which was devoid of fire for economic reasons. Her +aunt was seated in the window busily crocheting, while she, with her +white fingers running across the keys, raised her sweet contralto voice +in that old-world Florentine song that for centuries has been sung by +the populace in the streets of the city by the Arno: + + In questa notte in sogno l'ho veduto + Era vestito tutto di braccato, + Le piume sul berretto di velluto + Ed una spada d'oro aveva allato. + + E poi m'ha detto con un bel sorriso; + Io no, non posso star da te diviso, + Da te diviso non ci posso stare + E torno per mai pin non ti lasciare. + +Miss Heyburn sighed, and looked up from her work. "Can't you sing +something in English, Gabrielle? It would be much better," she remarked +in a snappy tone. + +The girl's mouth hardened slightly at the corners, and she closed the +piano without replying. + +"I don't mean you to stop," exclaimed the ascetic old lady. "I only +think that girls, instead of learning foreign songs, should be able to +sing English ones properly. Won't you sing another?" + +"No," replied the girl, rising. "The rain has ceased, so I shall go for +my walk;" and she left the room to put on her hat and mackintosh, +passing along before the window a few minutes later in the direction of +King's Cliffe. + +It was always the same. If she indulged herself in singing one or other +of those ancient love-songs of the hot-blooded Tuscan peasants her aunt +always scolded. Nothing she did was right, for the simple reason that +she was an unwelcome visitor. + +She was alone. Rover was conducting sheep to Stamford market, as was his +duty every week; therefore in the fading daylight she went along, +immersed in her own sad thoughts. Her walk at that hour was entirely +aimless. She had only gone forth because of the irritation she felt at +her aunt's constant complaints. So entirely engrossed was she by her own +despair that she had not noticed the figure of a man who, catching sight +of her at the end of Woodnewton village, had held back until she had +gone a considerable distance, and had then sauntered leisurely in the +direction she had taken. + +The man kept her in view, but did not approach her. The high, red +mail-cart passed, and the driver touched his hat respectfully to her. +The man who collected the evening mail from all the villages between +Deene and Peterborough met her almost every evening, and had long ago +inquired and learnt who she was. + +For nearly two miles she walked onward, until, close by the junction of +the road which comes down the hill from Nassington, the man who had been +following hastened up and overtook her. + +She heard herself addressed by name, and, turning quickly, found herself +face to face with James Flockart. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE VELVET PAW + +The new-comer stood before Gabrielle, hat in hand, smiling pleasantly +and uttering a greeting of surprise. + +Her response was cold, for was not all her present unhappiness due to +him? + +"I've come here to speak to you, Gabrielle--to speak to you in +confidence." + +"Whatever you have to say may surely be said in the hearing of a third +person?" was her dignified answer. His sudden appearance had startled +her, but only for a moment. She was cool again next instant, and on her +guard against her enemy. + +"I hardly think," he said, with a meaning smile, "that you would really +like me to speak before a third party." + +"I really care nothing," was her answer. "And I cannot see why you seek +me here. When one is hopeless, as I am, one becomes callous of what the +future may bring." + +"Hopeless! Yes," he said in a changed voice, "I know that; living in +this dismal hole, Gabrielle, you must be hopeless. I know that your +exile here, away from all your friends and those you love, must be +soul-killing. Don't think that I have not reflected upon it a hundred +times." + +"Ah, then you have at last experienced remorse!" she cried bitterly, +looking straight into the man's face. "You have estranged me from my +father, and tried to ruin him! You lied to him--lied in order to save +yourself!" + +The man laughed. "My dear child," he exclaimed, "you really misjudge me +entirely. I am here for two reasons: to ask your forgiveness for making +that allegation which was imperative; and, secondly, to assure you that, +if you will allow me, I will yet be your friend." + +"Friend!" she echoed in a hollow voice. "You--my friend!" + +"Yes. I know that you mistrust me," he replied; "but I want to prove +that my intentions towards you are those of real friendship." + +"And you, who ever since my girlhood days have been my worst enemy, ask +me now to trust you!" she exclaimed with indignation. "No; go back to +Lady Heyburn and tell her that I refuse to accept the olive-branch which +you and she hold out to me." + +"My dear girl, you don't follow me," he exclaimed impatiently. "This has +nothing whatever to do with Lady Heyburn. I have come to you from purely +personal motives. My sole desire is to effect your return to +Glencardine." + +"For your own ends, Mr. Flockart, without a doubt!" she said bitterly. + +"Ah! there you are quite mistaken. Though you assert that I am your +father's enemy, I am, I tell you, his friend. He is ever thinking of you +with regret. You were his right hand. Would it not be far better if he +invited you to return?" + +She sighed at the thought of the blind man whom she regarded with such +entire devotion, but answered, "No, I shall never return to +Glencardine." + +"Why?" he asked. "Was it anything more than natural that, believing you +had been prying into his affairs, your father, in a moment of anger, +condemned you to this life of appalling monotony?" + +"No, not more natural than that you, the culprit, should have made me +the scapegoat for the second time," was her defiant reply. + +"Have I not already told you that the reason I'm here is to crave your +forgiveness? I admit that my actions have been the reverse of +honourable; but--well, there were circumstances which compelled me to +act as I did." + +"You got an impression of my father's safe-key, had a duplicate made in +Glasgow, as I have found out, and one night opened the safe and copied +certain private documents having regard to a proposed loan to the Greek +Government. The night I discovered you was the second occasion when you +went to the library and opened the safe. Do you deny that?" + +"What you allege, Gabrielle, is perfectly correct," he replied. "I know +that I was a blackguard to shield myself behind you--to tell the lie I +did that night. But how could I avoid it?" + +"Suppose I had, in retaliation, spoken the truth?" she asked, looking +the man straight in the face. + +"Ah! I knew that you would not do that." + +"You believe that I dare not--dare not for my own sake, eh?" + +He nodded in the affirmative. + +"Then you are much mistaken, Mr. Flockart," she said in a hard voice. +"You don't understand that a woman may become desperate." + +"I can understand how desperate you have become, living in this 'Sleepy +Hollow.' A week of it would, I admit, drive me to distraction." + +"Then if you understand my present position you will know that I am +fearless of you, or of anybody else. My life has ended. I have neither +happiness, comfort, peace of mind, nor love. All is of the past. To +you--you, James Flockart--I am indebted for all this! You have held me +powerless. I was a happy girl once, but you and your dastardly friends +crossed my path like an evil shadow, and I have existed in an inferno of +remorse ever since. I----" + +"Remorse! How absurdly you talk!" + +"It will not be absurd when I speak the truth and tell the world what I +know. It will be rather a serious matter for you, Mr. Flockart." + +"You threaten me, then?" he asked, his eyes flashing for a second. + +"I think it is as well for us to understand one another at once," she +said frankly. + +They had halted upon a small bridge close to the entrance to Apethorpe +village. + +"Then I'm to understand that you refuse my proffered assistance?" he +asked. + +"I require no assistance from my enemies," was her defiant and dignified +reply. "I suppose Lady Heyburn is at the villa at San Remo as usual, and +that it was she who sent you to me, because she recognises that you've +both gone a little too far. You have. When the opportunity arises, then +I shall speak, regardless of the consequences. Therefore, Mr. Flockart, +I wish you good-evening;" and she turned away. + +"No, Gabrielle," he cried, resolutely barring her path. "You must hear +me. You don't grasp the point of my argument." + +"With me none of your arguments are of any avail," was her response in a +bitter tone. "I, alas! have reason to know you too well. For you--by +your clever intrigue--I committed a crime; but God knows I am innocent +of what was intended. Now that you have estranged me from my father and +my lover, I shall confess--confess all--before I make an end of my +life." + +He saw from her pale, drawn face that she was desperate. He grew afraid. + +"But, my dear girl, think--of what you are saying! You don't mean it; +you can't mean it. Your father has relented, and will welcome you back, +if only you will consent to return." + +"I have no wish to be regarded as the prodigal daughter," was her proud +response. + +"Not for Walter Murie's sake?" asked the crafty man. "I have seen him. I +was at the club with him last night, and we had a chat about you. He +loves you very dearly. Ah! you do not know how he is suffering." + +She was silent, and he recognised in an instant that his words had +touched the sympathetic chord in her heart. + +"He is not suffering any greater grief than I am," she said in a low, +mechanical voice, her brow heavily clouded. + +"Of course I can quite understand that," he remarked sympathetically. +"Walter is a good fellow, and--well, it is indeed sad that matters +should be as they are. He is entirely devoted to you, Gabrielle." + +"Not more so than I am to him," declared the girl quite frankly. + +"Then why did you write breaking off your engagement?" + +"He told you that?" she exclaimed in surprise. + +The truth was that Murie had told Flockart nothing. He had not even seen +him. It was only a wild guess on Flockart's part. + +"Tell me," she urged anxiously, "what did he say concerning myself?" + +Flockart hesitated. His mind was instantly active in the concoction of a +story. + +"Oh, well--he expressed the most profound regret for all that had +occurred at Glencardine, and is, of course, utterly puzzled. It appears +that just before Christmas he went home to Connachan and visited your +father several times. From him, I suppose, he heard how you had been +discovered." + +"You told him nothing?" + +"I told him nothing," declared Flockart--which was a fact. + +"Did he express a wish to see me?" she inquired. + +"Of course he did. Is he not over head and ears in love with you? He +believes you have treated him cruelly." + +"I--I know I have, Mr. Flockart," she admitted. "But I acted as any girl +of honour would have done. I was compelled to take upon myself a great +disgrace, and on doing so I released him from his promise to me." + +"Most honourable!" the man declared with a pretence of admiration, yet +underlying it all was a craftiness that surely was unsurpassed. That +visit of his to Northamptonshire was made with some ulterior motive, yet +what it was the girl was unable to discover. She would surely have been +cleverer than most people had she been able to discern the hidden, +sinister motives of James Flockart. The truth was that he had not seen +Murie, and the story of his anxiety he had only concocted on the spur of +the moment. + +"Walter asked me to give you a message," he went on. "He asked me to +urge you to return to Glencardine, and to withdraw that letter you wrote +him before your departure." + +"To return to Glencardine!" she repeated, staring into his face. "Walter +wishes me to do that! Why?" + +"Because he loves you. Because he will intercede with your father on +your behalf." + +"My father will hear nothing in my favour until--" and she paused. + +"Until what?" + +"Until I tell him the whole truth." + +"That you will never do," remarked Flockart quickly. + +"Ah! there you're mistaken," she responded. "In all probability I +shall." + +"Then, before you do so, pray weigh carefully the dire results," he +urged in a changed tone. + +"Oh, I've already done that long ago," she said. "I know that I am in +your hands, utterly and irretrievably, Mr. Flockart, and the only way I +can regain my freedom is by boldly telling the truth." + +"You must never do that! By Heaven, you shall not!" he cried, looking +fiercely into her clear eyes. + +"I know! I'm quite well aware of your attitude towards me. The claws +cannot be entirely concealed in the cat's paw, you know;" and she +laughed bitterly into his face. + +The corners of the man's mouth hardened. He was about to speak and show +himself in his true colours; but by dint of great self-control he +managed to smile and exclaim, "Then you will take no heed of these +wishes of the man who loves you so dearly, of the man who is still your +best and most devoted friend? You prefer to remain here, and wear out +your young life with vain regrets and shattered affections. Come, +Gabrielle, do be sensible." + +The girl did not speak for several moments. "Does Walter really wish me +to return?" she asked, looking straight at him, as though trying to +discern whether he was really speaking the truth. + +"Yes. He expressed to me a strong wish that you should either return to +Glencardine or go and live at Park Street." + +"He wishes to see me?" + +"Of course. It would perhaps be better if you met him first, either down +here or in London. Why should you two not be happy?" he went on. "I know +it is my fault you are consigned to this dismal life, and that you and +Walter are parted; but, believe me, Gabrielle, I am at this moment +endeavouring to bring you together again, and to reinstate you in Sir +Henry's good graces. He is longing for you to return. When I saw him +last at Glencardine he told me that Monsieur Goslin was not so clever at +typing or in grasping his meaning as you are, and he is only awaiting +your return." + +"That may be so," answered the girl in a slow, distinct voice; "but +perhaps you'll tell me, Mr. Flockart, the reason you evinced such an +unwonted curiosity in my father's affairs?" + +"My dear girl," laughed the man, "surely that isn't a fair question. I +had certain reasons of my own." + +"Yes; assisted by Lady Heyburn, you thought that you could make money by +obtaining knowledge of my father's secrets. Oh yes, I know--I know more +than you have ever imagined," declared the girl boldly. "You hope to get +rid of Monsieur Goslin from Glencardine and reinstate me--for your own +ends. I see it all." + +The man bit his lip. With chagrin he recognised that he had blundered, +and that she, shrewd and clever, had taken advantage of his error. He +was, however, too clever to exhibit his annoyance. + +"You are quite wrong in your surmise, Gabrielle," he said quickly. +"Walter Murie loves you, and loves you well. Therefore, with regret at +my compulsory denunciation of yourself, I am now endeavouring to assist +you." + +"Thank you," she responded coldly, again turning away abruptly. "I +require no assistance from a man such as yourself--a man who entrapped +me, and who denounced me in order to save himself." + +"You will regret these words," he declared, as she walked away in the +direction of Woodnewton. + +She turned upon him in fierce anger, retorting, "And perhaps you, on +your part, will regret your endeavour to entrap me a second time. I have +promised to speak the truth, and I shall keep my promise. I am not +afraid to sacrifice my own life to save my father's honour!" + +The man stood staring after her. These words of hers held him +motionless. What if she flung her good name to the winds and actually +carried out her threat? What if she really spoke the truth? Ay, what +then? + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +BETRAYS THE BOND + +The girl hurried on, her heart filled with wonder, her eyes brimming +with tears of indignation. The one thought occupying her whole mind was +whether Walter really wished to see her again. Had Flockart spoken the +truth? The serious face of the man she loved so well rose before her +blurred vision. She had been his--his very own--until she had sent off +that fateful letter. + +In five minutes Flockart had again overtaken her. His attitude was +appealing. He urged her to at least see her lover again even if she +refused to write or return to her father. + +"Why do you come here to taunt me like this?" she cried, turning upon +him angrily. "Once, because you were my mother's friend, I believed in +you. But you deceived me, and in consequence you hold me in your power. +Were it not for that I could have spoken to my father--have told him the +truth and cleared myself. He now believes that I have betrayed his +business secrets, while at the same time he considers you to be his +friend!" + +"I am his friend, Gabrielle," the man declared. + +"Why tell me such a lie?" she asked reproachfully. "Do you think I too +am blind?" + +"Certainly not. I give you credit for being quite as clever and as +intelligent as you are dainty and charming. I----" + +"Thank you!" she cried in indignation. "I require no compliments from +you." + +"Lady Heyburn has expressed a wish to see you," he said. "She is still +in San Remo, and asked me to invite you to go down there for a few +weeks. Your aunt has written her, I think, complaining that you are not +very comfortable at Woodnewton." + +"I have not complained. Why should Aunt Emily complain of me? You seem +to be the bearer of messages from the whole of my family, Mr. Flockart." + +"I am here entirely in your own interests, my dear child," he declared +with that patronising air which so irritated her. + +"Not entirely, I think," she said, smiling bitterly. + +"I tell you, I much regret all that has happened, and----" + +"You regret!" she cried fiercely. "Do you regret the end of that +woman--you know whom I mean?" + +Beneath her straight glance he quivered. She had referred to a subject +which he fain would have buried for ever. This dainty neat-waisted girl +knew a terrible secret. Was it not only too true, as Lady Heyburn had +vaguely suggested a dozen times, that her mouth ought to be effectually +sealed? + +He had sealed it once, as he thought. Her fear to explain to her father +the incident of the opening of the safe had given him confidence that no +word of the truth regarding the past would ever pass her lips. Yet he +saw that his own machinations were now likely to prove his undoing. The +web which, with her ladyship's assistance, he had woven about her was +now stretched to breaking-point. If it did yield, then the result must +be ruin--and worse. Therefore, he was straining every effort to again +reinstate her in her father's good graces and restore in her mind +something akin to confidence. But all his arguments, as he walked on at +her side in the gathering gloom, proved useless. She was in no mood to +listen to the man who had been her evil genius ever since her +school-days. As he was speaking she was wondering if she dared go to +Walter Murie and tell him everything. What would her lover think of her? +What indeed? He would only cast her aside as worthless. No. Far better +that he should remain in ignorance and retain only sad memories of their +brief happiness. + +"I am going to Glencardine to-night," Flockart went on. "I shall join +the mail at Peterborough. What shall I tell your father?" + +"Tell him the truth," was her reply. "That, I know, you will not do. So +why need we waste further words?" + +"Do you actually refuse, then, to leave this dismal hole?" he demanded +impatiently. + +"Yes, until I speak, and tell my father the plain and ghastly story." + +"Rubbish!" he ejaculated. "You'll never do that--unless you wish to +stand beside me in a criminal dock." + +"Well, rather that than be your cat's-paw longer, Mr. Flockart!" she +cried, her face flushing with indignation. + +"Oh, oh!" he laughed, still quite imperturbed. "Come, come! This is +scarcely a wise reply, my dear little girl!" + +"I wish you to leave me. You have insulted my intelligence enough this +evening, surely--you, who only a moment ago declared yourself my +friend!" + +Slowly he selected a cigarette from his gold case, and, halting, lit it. +"Well, if you meet my well-meant efforts on your behalf with open +antagonism like this I can't make any further suggestion." + +"No, please don't. Go up to Glencardine and do your worst for me. I am +now fully able to take care of myself," she exclaimed in defiance. "You +can also write to Lady Heyburn, and tell her that I am still, and that I +always will remain, my blind father's friend." + +"But why don't you listen to reason, Gabrielle?" he implored her. "I +don't now seek to lessen or deny the wrongs I have done you in the past, +nor do I attempt to conceal from you my own position. My only object is +to bring you and Walter together again. Her ladyship knows the whole +circumstances, and deeply regrets them." + +"Her regret will be the more poignant some day, I assure you." + +"Then you really intend to act vindictively?" + +"I shall act just as I think proper," she exclaimed, halting a moment +and facing him. "Please understand that though I have been forced in the +past to act as you have indicated, because I feared you--because I had +my reputation and my father's honour at stake--I hold you in terror no +longer, Mr. Flockart." + +"Well, I'm glad you've told me that," he said, laughing as though he +treated her declaration with humour. "It's just as well, perhaps, that +we should now thoroughly understand each other. Yet if I were you I +wouldn't do anything rash. By telling the truth you'd be the only +sufferer, you know." + +"The only sufferer! Why?" + +"Well, you don't imagine I should be such a fool as to admit that what +you said was true, do you?" + +She looked at him in surprise. It had never occurred to her that he, +with his innate unscrupulousness and cunning, might deny her +allegations, and might even be able to prove them false. + +"The truth could not be denied," she said simply. "Recollect the cutting +from the Edinburgh paper." + +"Truth is denied every day in courts of law," he retorted. "No. Before +you act foolishly, remember that, put to the test, your word would stand +alone against mine and those of other people. + +"Why, the very story you would tell would be so utterly amazing and +startling that the world would declare you had invented it. Reflect upon +it for a moment, and you'll find, my dear girl, that silence is golden +in this, as in any other circumstance in life." + +She raised her eyes to his, and met his gaze firmly. "So you defy me to +speak?" she cried. "You think that I will still remain in this accursed +bondage of yours?" + +"I utter no threats, my dear child," replied Flockart. "I have never in +my life threatened you. I merely venture to point out certain +difficulties which you might have in substantiating any allegation which +you might make against me. For that reason, if for none other, is it not +better for us to be friends?" + +"I am not the friend of my father's enemy!" she declared. + +"You are quite heroic," he declared with a covert sneer. "If you really +are bent upon providing the halfpenny newspapers with a fresh sensation, +pray let me know in plenty of time, won't you?" + +"I've had sufficient of your taunts," cried the girl, bursting into a +flood of hot tears. "Leave me. I--I'll say no further word to you." + +"Except to forgive me," He added. + +"Why should I?" she asked through her tears. + +"Because, for your own sake--for the sake of your future--it will surely +be best," he pointed out. "You, no doubt, in ignorance of legal +procedure, believed that what you alleged would be accepted in a court +of justice. But reflect fully before you again threaten me. Dry your +eyes, or your aunt may suspect something wrong." + +She did not reply. What he said impressed her, and he did not fail to +recognise that fact. He smiled within himself when he saw that he had +triumphed. Yet he had not gained his point. + +She had dashed away her tears with the little wisp of lace, annoyed with +herself at betraying her indignation in that womanly way. She knew him, +alas! too well. She mistrusted him, for she was well aware of how +cleverly he had once conspired with Lady Heyburn, and with what +ingenuity she herself had been drawn into the disgraceful and amazing +affair. + +True it was that her story, if told in a criminal court, would prove so +extraordinary that it would not be believed; true also that he would, of +course, deny it, and that his denial would be borne out by the woman +who, though her father's wife, was his worst enemy. + +The man placed his hand on her shoulder, saying, "May we not be friends, +Gabrielle?" + +She shook him off roughly, responding in the negative. + +"But we are not enemies--I mean we will not be enemies as we have been, +shall we?" he urged. + +To this she made no reply. She only quickened her pace, for the twilight +was fast deepening, and she wished to be back again at her aunt's house. + +Why had that man followed her? Why, indeed, had he troubled to come +there? She could not discern his motive. + +They walked together in silence. He was watching her face, reading it +like a book. + +Then, when they neared the first thatched cottage at the entrance to the +village, he halted, asking, "May we not now become friends, Gabrielle? +Will you not listen, and take my advice? Or will you still remain buried +here?" + +"I have nothing further to say, Mr. Flockart, than what I have already +said," was her defiant response. "I shall act as I think best." + +"And you will dare to speak, and place yourself in a ridiculous +position, you mean?" + +"I shall use my own judgment in defending my father from his enemies," +was her cold response as, with a slight shrug of her shoulders, she +turned and left him, hurrying forward in the darkening twilight along +the village street to her aunt's home. + +He, on his part, turned upon his heel with a muttered remark and set out +again to walk towards Nassington Station, whence, after nearly an hour's +wait in the village inn, he took train to Peterborough. + +The girl had once again defied him. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE WHISPERS AGAIN + +Was it really true what Flockart had told her? Did Walter actually wish +to see her again? At one moment she believed in her lover's strong, +passionate devotion to her, for had she not seen it displayed in a +hundred different ways? But the next she recollected how that man +Flockart had taken advantage of her youth and inexperience in the past, +how he had often lied so circumstantially that she had believed his +words to be the truth. Once, indeed, he had openly declared to her that +one of his maxims was never to tell the truth unless obliged. After +dinner, a simple meal served in the poky little dining-room, she made an +excuse to go to her room, and there sat for a long time, deeply +reflecting. Should she write to Walter? Would it be judicious to explain +Flockart's visit, and how he had urged their reconciliation? If she +wrote, would it lower her dignity in her lover's eyes? That was the +great problem which now troubled her. She sat staring before her +undecided. She recalled all that Flockart had told her. He was the +emissary of Lady Heyburn without a doubt. The girl had told him openly +of her decision to speak the truth and expose him, but he had only +laughed at her. Alas! she knew his true character, unscrupulous and +pitiless. But she placed him aside. + +Recollection of Walter--the man who had held her so often in his arms +and pressed his hot lips to hers, the man who was her father's firm +friend and whose uprightness and honesty of purpose she had ever +admired--crowded upon her. Should she write to him? Rigid and staring, +she sat in her chair, her little white hands clenched, as she tried to +summon courage. It had been she who had written declaring that their +secret engagement must be broken, she who had condemned herself. +Therefore, had she not a right to satisfy that longing she had had +through months, the longing to write to him once again. The thought +decided her; and, going to the table whereon the lamp was burning, she +sat down, and after some reflection, penned a letter as follows:-- + +"MY SWEETHEART, MY DARLING, MY OWN, MY SOUL--MINE--ONLY MINE,--I am +wondering how and where you are! True, I wrote you a cruel letter; but +it was imperative, and under the force of circumstance. I am full of +regrets, and I only wish with all my heart that I might kiss you once +again, and press you in my arms as I used to do. + +"But how are you? I have had you before my eyes to-night, and I feel +quite sure that at this very moment you are thinking of me. You must +know that I love you dearly. You gave me your heart, and it shall not +belong to any other. I have tried to be brave and courageous; but, alas! +I have failed. I love you, my darling, and I must see you soon--very +soon. + +"Mr. Flockart came to see me to-day and says that you expressed to him a +desire to meet me again. Gratify that desire when you will, and you will +find your Gabrielle just the same--longing ever to see you, living with +only the memories of your dear face. + +"Can you doubt of my great, great love for you? You never wrote in reply +to my letter, though I have waited for months. I know my letter was a +cruel one, and to you quite unwarranted; but I had a reason for writing +it, and the reason was because I felt that I ought not to deceive you +any longer. + +"You see, darling, I am frank and open. Yes, I have deceived you. I am +terribly ashamed and downhearted. I have tried to conceal my grief, even +from you; but it is impossible. I love you as much as I ever loved you, +and I swear to you that I have never once wavered. + +"Grim circumstance forced me to write to you as I did. Forgive me, I beg +of you. If it is true what Mr. Flockart says, then send me a telegram, +and come here to see me. If it be false, then I shall know by your +silence. + +"I love you, my own, my well-beloved! _Au revoir_, my dearest heart. I +look at your photograph which to-night smiles at me. Yes, you love me! + +"With many fond and sweet kisses like those I gave you in the +well-remembered days of our happiness. + +"My love--My king!" + +She read the letter carefully through, placed it in an envelope, and, +marking it private, addressed it to Walter's chambers in the Temple, +whence she knew it must be forwarded if he were away. Then, putting on +her tam o' shanter, she went out to the village grocer's, where she +posted it, so that it left by the early morning mail. When would his +welcome telegram arrive? She calculated that he would get the letter by +mid-day, and by one o'clock she could receive his reply--his reassurance +of love. + +So she went to her bed, with its white dimity hangings, more calm and +composed than for months before. For a long time she lay awake, thinking +of him, listening hour by hour to the chiming bells of the old Norman +church. They marked the passing of the night. Then she dropped off to +sleep, to be awakened by the sun streaming into the room. + +That same morning, away up in the Highlands at Glencardine, Sir Henry +had groped his way across the library to his accustomed chair, and Hill +had placed before him one of the shallow drawers of the cabinet of +seal-impressions. + +There were fully half a dozen which had been sent to him by the curator +of the museum at Norwich, sulphur-casts of seals recently acquired by +that institution. + +The blind man had put aside that morning to examine them, and settled +himself to his task with the keen and pleasurable anticipation of the +expert. + +They were very fine specimens. The blind man, sitting alone, selected +one, and, fingering it very carefully for a long time, at last made out +its design and the inscription upon it. + +"The seal of Abbot Simon de Luton, of the early thirteenth century," he +said slowly to himself. "The wolf guards the head of St. Edmund as it +does in the seal of the Benedictine Abbey of Bury St. Edmunds, while the +Virgin with the Child is over the canopy. And the verse is indeed +curious for its quaintness:" + ++ VIRGO . DEUM . FERT . DUX . CAPUD . AUFERT . QUOD . LUPUS . HIC . FERT + + +Then he again retraced the letters with his sensitive fingers to +reassure himself that he had made no mistake. + +The next he drew towards him proved to be the seal of the Vice-Warden of +the Grey Friars of Cambridge, a pointed one used about the year 1244, +which to himself he declared, in heraldic language, to bear the device +of "a cross raguly debruised by a spear, and a crown of thorns in bend +dexter, and a sponge on a staff in bend sinister, between two threefold +_flagella_ in base"--surely a formidable array of the instruments used +in the Passion. + +Deeply interested, and speaking to himself aloud, as was his habit when +alone, he examined them one after the other. Among the collection were +the seals of Berengar de Brolis, Plebanus of Pacina (in Syracuse), and +those of the Commune of Beauvais (1228); Mathilde (or Mahaut), daughter +of Henri Duke of Brabant (1265); the town of Oudenbourg in West +Flanders, and of the Vicar-Provincial of the Carmelite Order at Palermo +(1350); Jacobus de Gnapet, Bishop of Rennes (1480); and of Bondi Marquis +of Sasolini of Bologna (1323). + +He had almost concluded when Goslin, the grey-bearded Frenchman, having +breakfasted alone in the dining-room, entered. "Ah, _mon cher_ Sir +Henry!" he exclaimed, "at work so early! The study of seals must be very +fascinating to you, though I confess that, for myself, I could never see +in them very much to interest one." + +"No. To the ordinary person, my dear Goslin, it appears no doubt, a most +dryasdust study, but to a man afflicted like myself it is the only study +that he can pursue, for with his finger tips he can learn the devices +and decipher the inscriptions," the blind Baronet declared. "Take, for +instance, only this little collection of a dozen or so impressions which +they have so kindly sent to me from Norwich. Each one of them tells me +something. Its device, its general character, its heraldry, its +inscription, are all highly instructive. For the collector there are +opportunities for the study of the historical allusions, the +emblematology and imagery, the hagiology, the biographical and +topographical episodes, and the other peculiarities and idiosyncrasies +in all the seals he possesses." + +Goslin, like most other people, had been many times bored by the old +man's technical discourses upon his hobby. But he never showed it. He, +just the same as other people, made pretence of being interested. "Yes," +he remarked, "they must be most instructive to the student. I recollect +seeing a great quantity in the Bargello at Florence." + +"Ah, a very fine collection--part of the Medici collection, and contains +some of the finest Italian and Spanish specimens," remarked the blind +connoisseur. "Birch of the British Museum is quite right in declaring +that the seal, portable and abounding in detail, not difficult of +acquisition nor hard to read if we set about deciphering the story it +has to tell, takes us back as we look upon it to the very time of its +making, and sets us, as it were, face to face with the actual owners of +the relic." + +The Frenchman sighed. He saw he was in for a long dissertation; and, +moving uneasily towards the window, changed the topic of conversation by +saying, "I had a long letter from Paris this morning. Krail is back +again, it appears." + +"Ah, that man!" cried the other impatiently. "When will his +extraordinary energies be suppressed? They are watching him carefully, I +suppose." + +"Of course," replied the Frenchman. "He left Paris about a month ago, +but unfortunately the men watching him did not follow. He took train for +Berlin, and has been absent until now." + +"We ought to know where he's been, Goslin," declared the elder man. +"What fool was it who, keeping him under surveillance, allowed him to +slip from Paris?" + +"The Russian Tchernine." + +"I thought him a clever fellow, but it seems that he's a bungler after +all." + +"But while we keep Krail at arm's length, as we are doing, what have we +to fear?" asked Goslin. + +"Yes, but how long can we keep him at arm's length?" queried Sir Henry. +"You know the kind of man--one of the most extraordinarily inventive in +Europe. No secret is safe from him. Do you know, Goslin," he added, in a +changed voice, "I live nowadays somehow in constant apprehension." + +"You've never possessed the same self-confidence since you found +Mademoiselle Gabrielle with the safe open," he remarked. + +"No. Murie, or some other man she knows, must have induced her to do +that, and take copies of those documents. Fortunately, I suspected an +attempt, and baited the trap accordingly." + +"What caused you to suspect?" + +"Because more than once both Murie and the girl seemed to be seized by +an unusual desire to pry into my business." + +"You don't think that our friend Flockart had anything to do with the +affair?" the Frenchman suggested. + +"No, no. Not in the least. I know Flockart too well," declared the old +man. "Once I looked upon him as my enemy, but I have now come to the +conclusion that he is a friend--a very good friend." + +The Frenchman pulled a rather wry face, and remained silent. + +"I know," Sir Henry went on, "I know quite well that his constant +association with my wife has caused a good deal of gossip; but I have +dismissed it all with the contempt that such attempted scandal deserves. +It has been put about by a pack of women who are jealous of my wife's +good looks and her _chic_ in dress." + +"Are not Flockart and mademoiselle also good friends?" inquired Goslin. + +"No. I happen to know that they are not, and that very fact in itself +shows me that Gabrielle, in trying to get at the secret of my business, +was not aided by Flockart, for it was he who exposed her." + +"Yes," remarked the Frenchman, "so you've told me before. Have you heard +from mademoiselle lately?" + +"Only twice since she has left here," was the old man's bitter reply, +"and that was twice too frequently. I've done with her, Goslin--done +with her entirely. Never in all my life did I receive such a crushing +blow as when I found that she, in whom I reposed the utmost confidence, +had played her own father false, and might have ruined him!" + +"Yes," remarked the other sympathetically, "it was a great blow to you, +I know. But will you not forgive mademoiselle?" + +"Forgive her!" he cried fiercely, "forgive her! Never!" + +The grey-bearded Frenchman, who had always been a great favourite with +Gabrielle, sighed slightly, and gave his shoulders a shrug of regret. + +"Why do you ask that?" inquired Sir Henry, "when she herself admitted +that she had been at the safe?" + +"Because----" and the other hesitated. "Well, for several reasons. The +story of your quarrel with mademoiselle has leaked out." + +"The Whispers--eh, Goslin?" laughed the old man in defiance. "Let the +people believe what they will. My daughter shall never return to +Glencardine--never!" + +As he had been speaking the door had opened, and James Flockart stood +upon the threshold. He had overheard the blind man's words, and as he +came forward he smiled, more in satisfaction than in greeting. + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +CONTAINS A FURTHER MYSTERY + +"My dear Edgar, when I met you in the Devonshire Club last night I could +scarcely believe my own eyes. Fancy you turning up again!" + +"Yes, strange, isn't it, how two men may drift apart for years, and then +suddenly meet in a club, as we have done, Murie?" + +"Being with those fellows who were anxious to go along and see the show +at the Empire last night, I had no opportunity of having a chat with +you, my dear old chap. That's why I asked you to look in." + +The two men were seated in Walter's dingy chambers on the second floor +in Fig-Tree Court, Temple. The room was an old and rather frowsy one, +with shabby leather furniture from which the stuffing protruded, +panelled walls, a carpet almost threadbare, and a formidable array of +calf-bound volumes in the cases lining one wall. The place was heavy +with tobacco-smoke as the pair, reclining in easy-chairs, were in the +full enjoyment of very excellent cigars. + +Walter's visitor was a tall, dark man, some six or seven years his +senior, a rather spare, lantern-jawed young fellow, whose dark-grey +clothes were of unmistakable foreign cut; and whose moustache was +carefully trained to an upward trend. No second glance was required to +decide that Edgar Hamilton was a person who, having lived a long time on +the Continent, had acquired the cosmopolitan manner both in gesture and +in dress. + +"Well," exclaimed Murie at last, blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips, +"since we parted at Oxford I've been called to the Bar, as you see. As +for practice--well, I haven't any. The gov'nor wants me to go in for +politics, so I'm trying to please him by getting my hand in. I make an +odd speech or two sometimes in out-of-the-world villages, and I hope, +one day, to find myself the adopted candidate for some borough or other. +Last year I was sent round the world by my fond parents in order to +obtain a broader view of life. Is it not Tacitus who says, '_Sua cuique +vita obscura est_'?" + +"Yes, my dear fellow," replied Hamilton, stretching himself lazily in +his chair. "And surely we can say with Martial, '_Non est vivere, sed +valere vita_'--I am well, therefore I am alive! Mine has been a rather +curious career up to the present. I only once heard of you after +Oxford--through Arthur Price, who was, you'll remember, at Balliol. He +wrote that he'd spoken one night to you when at supper at the Savoy. You +had a bevy of beauties with you, he said." + +Both men laughed. In the old days, Edgar Hamilton had been essentially a +ladies' man; but, since they had parted one evening on the +station-platform at Oxford, Hamilton had gone up to town and completely +out of the life of Walter Murie. They had not met until the previous +evening, when Walter, having dined at the Devonshire--that comfortable +old-world club in St. James's Street which was the famous Crockford's +gaming-house in the days of the dandies--he had met his old friend in +the strangers' smoking-room, the guest of a City stockbroker who was +entertaining a party. A hurried greeting of surprise, and an invitation +to call in at the Temple resulted in that meeting on that grey +afternoon. + +Six years had gone since they had parted; and, judging from Edgar's +exterior, he had been pretty prosperous. + +Walter was laughing and commenting upon it when his friend, removing his +cigar from his lips, said, "My dear fellow, my success has been entirely +due to one incident which is quite romantic. In fact, if anybody wrote +it in a book people would declare it to be fiction." + +"That's interesting! Tell me all about it. My own life has been humdrum +enough in all conscience. As a budding politician, I have to browse upon +blue-books and chew statistics." + +"And mine has been one of travel, adventure, and considerable +excitement," declared Hamilton. "Six months after I left Oxford I found +myself out in Transcaucasia as a newspaper correspondent. As you know, I +often wrote articles for some of the more precious papers when at +college. Well, one of them sent me out to travel through the disturbed +Kurdish districts. I had a tough time from the start. I was out with a +Cossack party in Thai Aras valley, east of Erivan, for six months, and +wrote lots of articles which created a good deal of sensation here in +England. You may have seen them, but they were anonymous. The life of +excitement, sometimes fighting and at others in ambush in the mountains, +suited me admirably, for I'm a born adventurer, I believe. One day, +however, a strange thing happened. I was riding along alone through one +of the mountain passes towards the Caspian when I discovered three wild, +fierce-looking Kurds maltreating a girl, believing her to be a Russian. +I called upon them to release her, for she was little more than a child; +and, as they did not, I shot two of the men. The third shot and plugged +me rather badly in the leg; but I had the satisfaction that my shots +attracted my Cossack companions, who, coming quickly on the spot, killed +all three of the girl's assailants, and released her." + +"By Jove!" laughed Murie. "Was she pretty?" + +"Not extraordinarily--a fair-haired girl of about fifteen, dressed in +European clothes. I fainted from loss of blood, and don't remember +anything else until I found myself in a tent, with two Cossacks patching +up my wound. When I came to, she rushed forward, and thanked me +profusely for saving her. To my surprise, she spoke in French, and on +inquiry I found that she was the daughter of a certain Baron Conrad de +Hetzendorf, an Austrian, who possessed a house in Budapest and a chateau +at Semlin, in South Hungary. She told us a curious story. Her father had +some business in Transcaucasia, and she had induced him to take her with +him on his journey. Only certain districts of the country were +disturbed; and apparently, with their guide and escort, they had +unwittingly entered the Aras region--one of the most lawless of them +all--in ignorance of what was in progress. She and her father, +accompanied by a guide and four Cossacks, had been riding along when +they met a party of Kurds, who had attacked them. Both father and +daughter had been seized, whereupon she had lost consciousness from +fright, and when she came to again found that the four Cossacks had been +killed, her father had been taken off, and she was alone in the brutal +hands of those three wild-looking tribesmen. As soon as she had told us +this, the officer of the Cossacks to which I had attached myself called +the men together, and in a quarter of an hour the whole body went forth +to chase the Kurds and rescue the Baron. One big Cossack, in his long +coat and astrakhan cap, was left to look after me, while Nicosia--that +was the girl's name--was also left to assist him. After three days they +returned, bringing with them the Baron, whose delight at finding his +daughter safe and unharmed was unbounded. They had fought the Kurds and +defeated them, killing nearly twenty. Ah, my dear Murie, you haven't any +notion of the lawless state of that country just then! And I fear it is +pretty much the same now." + +"Well, go on," urged his friend. "What about the girl? I suppose you +fell in love with her, and all that, eh?" + +"No, you're mistaken there, old chap," was his reply. "When she +explained to her father what had happened, the Baron thanked me very +warmly, and invited me to visit him in Budapest when my leg grew strong +again. He was a man of about fifty, who, I found, spoke English very +well. Nicosia also spoke English, for she had explained to me that her +mother, now dead, had been a Londoner. The Baron's business in +Transcaucasia was, he told me vaguely, in connection with the survey of +a new railway which the Russian Government was projecting eastward from +Erivan. For two days he remained with us; but during those days my wound +was extremely painful owing to lack of surgical appliances, so we spoke +of very little else besides the horrible atrocities committed by the +Kurds. He pressed me to visit him; and then, with an escort of our +Cossacks, he and his daughter left for Tiflis; whence he took train back +to Hungary. + +"For six months I remained, still leading that roving, adventurous life. +My leg was well again, but my journalistic commission was at an end, and +one day I found myself in Odessa, very short of funds. I recollected the +Baron's invitation to Budapest, therefore I took train there, and found +his residence to be one of those great white houses on the Franz Josef +Quay. He received me with marked enthusiasm, and compelled me to be his +guest. During the first week I was there I told him, in confidence, my +position, whereupon he offered me a very lucrative post as his +secretary, a post which I have retained until this moment." + +"And the girl?" Walter asked, much interested. + +"Oh, she finished her education in Dresden and in Paris, and now lives +mostly with her aunt in Vienna," was Hamilton's response. "Quite +recently she's become engaged to young Count de Solwegen, the son of one +of the wealthiest men in Austria." + +"I thought you'd probably become the happy lover." + +"Lover!" cried his friend. "How could a poor devil like myself ever +aspire to the hand of the daughter of the Baron de Hetzendorf? The name +doesn't convey much to you, I suppose?" + +"No, I don't take much interest in unknown foreigners, I confess," +replied Walter, with a smile. + +"Ah, you're not a cosmopolitan nor a financier, or you would know the +thousand-and-one strings which are pulled by Conrad de Hetzendorf, or +the curious stories afloat concerning him." + +"Curious stories!" echoed Murie. "Tell me some. I'm always interested in +anything mysterious." + +Hamilton was silent for a few moments. + +"Well, old chap, to tell you the truth, even though I've got such a +comfortable and lucrative post, I'm, even after these years, +considerably mystified." + +"How?" + +"By the real nature of the Baron's business." + +"Oh, he's a mysterious person, is he?" + +"Very. Though I'm his confidential secretary, and deal with his affairs +in his absence, yet in some matters he is remarkably close, as though he +fears me." + +"You live always in Budapest, I suppose?" + +"No. In summer we are at the country house, a big place overlooking the +Danube outside Semlin, and commanding a wide view of the great Hungarian +plain." + +"The Baron transacts his business there, eh?" + +"From there or from Budapest. His business is solely with an office in +the Boulevard des Capucines in Paris, and a registered telegraphic +address also in Paris." + +"Well, there's nothing very mysterious in that, surely. Some business +matters must, of necessity, be conducted with secrecy." + +"I know all that, my dear fellow, but--" and he hesitated, as though +fearing to take his friend into his confidence. + +"But what?" + +"Well--but there, no! You'd laugh at me if I told you the real reason of +my uneasiness." + +"I certainly won't, my dear Hamilton," Murie assured him. "We are +friends to-day, dear old chap, just as we were at college. Surely it is +not the place of a man to poke fun at his friend?" + +The argument was apparently convincing. The Baron's secretary smoked on +in thoughtful silence, his eyes fixed upon the wall in front of him. + +"Well," he said at last, "if you promise to view the matter in all +seriousness, I'll tell you. Briefly, it's this. Of course, you've never +been to Semlin--or Zimony, as they call it in the Magyar tongue. To +understand aright, I must describe the place. In the extreme south of +Hungary, where the river Save joins the Danube, the town of Semlin +guards the frontier. Upon a steep hill, five kilometres from the town, +stands the Baron's residence, a long, rather inartistic white building, +which, however, is very luxuriously furnished. Comparatively modern, it +stands near the ruins of a great old castle of Hetzendorf, which +commands a wide sweep of the Danube. Now, amid those ruins strange +noises are sometimes heard, and it is said that upon all who hear them +falls some terrible calamity. I'm not superstitious, but I've heard +them--on three occasions! And somehow--well, somehow--I cannot get rid +of an uncanny feeling that some catastrophe is to befall me! I can't go +back to Semlin. I'm unnerved, and dare not return there." + +"Noises!" cried Walter Murie. "What are they like?" he asked quickly, +starting from his chair, and staring at his friend. + +"They seem to emanate from nowhere, and are like deep but distant +whispers. So plain they were that I could have sworn that some one was +speaking, and in English, too!" + +"Does the baron know?" + +"Yes, I told him, and he appeared greatly alarmed. Indeed, he gave me +leave of absence to come home to England." + +"Well," exclaimed Murie, "what you tell me, old chap, is most +extraordinary! Why, there is almost an exactly similar legend connected +with Glencardine!" + +"Glencardine!" cried his friend. "Glencardine Castle, in Scotland! I've +heard of that. Do you know the place?" + +"The estate marches with my father's, therefore I know it well. How +extraordinary that there should be almost exactly the same legend +concerning a Hungarian castle!" + +"Who is the owner of Glencardine?" + +"Sir Henry Heyburn, a friend of mine." + +"Heyburn!" echoed Hamilton. "Heyburn the blind man?" he gasped, grasping +the arm of his chair and staring back at his companion. "And he is your +friend? You know his daughter, then?" + +"Yes, I know Gabrielle," was Walter's reply, as there flashed across him +the recollection of that passionate letter to which he had not replied. +"Why?" + +"Is she also your friend?" + +"She certainly is." + +Hamilton was silent. He saw that he was treading dangerous ground. The +legend of Glencardine was the same as that of the old Magyar stronghold +of Hetzendorf. Gabrielle Heyburn was Murie's friend. Therefore he +resolved to say no more. + +Gabrielle Heyburn! + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +REVEALS SOMETHING TO HAMILTON + +Edgar Hamilton sat with his eyes fixed upon the dingy, inartistic, +smoke-begrimed windows of the chambers opposite. The man before him was +acquainted with Gabrielle Heyburn! For over a year he had not been in +London. He recollected the last occasion--recollected it, alas! only too +well. His thin countenance wore a puzzled, anxious expression, the +expression of a man face to face with a great difficulty. + +"Tell me, Walter," he said at last, "what kind of place is Glencardine +Castle? What kind of man is Sir Henry Heyburn?" + +"Glencardine is one of the most beautiful estates in Scotland. It lies +between Perth and Stirling. The ruins of the ancient castle, where the +great Marquis of Glencardine, who was such a figure in Scottish history, +was born, stands perched up above a deep, delightful glen; and some +little distance off stands the modern house, built in great part from +the ruins of the stronghold." + +"And there are noises heard there the same as at Hetzendorf, you say?" + +"Well, the countryfolk believe that, on certain nights, there can be +heard in the castle courtyard distinct whispering--the counsel of the +devil himself to certain conspirators who took the life of the notorious +Cardinal Setoun." + +"Has any one actually heard them?" + +"They say so--or, at any rate, several persons after declaring that they +had heard them have died quite suddenly." + +Hamilton pursed his lips. "Well," he exclaimed, "that's really most +remarkable! Practically, the same legend is current in South Hungary +regarding Hetzendorf. Strange--very strange!" + +"Very," remarked the heir to the great estate of Connachan. "But, after +all, cannot one very often trace the same legend through the folklore of +various countries? I remember I once attended a lecture upon that very +interesting subject." + +"Oh, of course. Many ancient legends have sprung from the same germ, so +that often we have practically the same fairy-story all over Europe. But +this, it seems to me, is no fairy story." + +"Well," laughed Murie, "the history of Glencardine Castle and the +historic family is so full of stirring episodes that I really don't +wonder that the ruins are believed to be the abode of something +supernatural. My father possesses some of the family papers, while Sir +Henry, when he bought Glencardine, also acquired a quantity. Only a year +ago he told me that he had had an application from a well-known +historical writer for access to them, as he was about to write a book +upon the family." + +"Then you know Sir Henry well?" + +"Very well indeed. I'm often his guest, and frequently shoot over the +place." + +"I've heard that Lady Heyburn is a very pretty woman," remarked the +other, glancing at his friend with a peculiar look. + +"Some declare her to be beautiful; but to myself, I confess, she's not +very attractive." + +"There are stories about her, eh?" Hamilton said. + +"As there are about every good-looking woman. Beauty cannot escape +unjust criticism or the scars of lying tongues." + +"People pity Sir Henry, I've heard." + +"They, of course, sympathise with him, poor old gentleman, because he's +blind. His is, indeed, a terrible affliction. Only fancy the change from +a brilliant Parliamentary career to idleness, darkness, and knitting." + +"I suppose he's very wealthy?" + +"He must be. The price he paid for Glencardine was a very heavy one; +and, besides that, he has two other places, as well as a house in Park +Street and a villa at San Remo." + +"Cotton, or steel, or soap, or some other domestic necessity, I +suppose?" + +Murie shrugged his shoulders. "Nobody knows," he answered. "The source +of Sir Henry's vast wealth is a profound mystery." + +His friend smiled, but said nothing. Walter Murie had risen to obtain +matches, therefore he did not notice the curious expression upon his +friend's face, a look which betrayed that he knew more than he intended +to tell. + +"Those noises heard in the castle puzzle me," he remarked after a few +moments. + +"At Glencardine they are known as the Whispers," Murie remarked. + +"By Jove! I'd like to hear them." + +"I don't think there'd be much chance of that, old chap," laughed the +other. "They're only heard by those doomed to an early death." + +"I may be. Who knows?" he asked gloomily. + +"Well, if I were you I wouldn't anticipate catastrophe." + +"No," said his friend in a more serious tone, "I've already heard those +at Hetzendorf, and--well, I confess they've aroused in my mind some very +uncanny apprehensions." + +"But did you really hear them? Are you sure they were not imagination? +In the night sounds always become both magnified and distorted." + +"Yes, I'm certain of what I heard. I was careful to convince myself that +it was not imagination, but actual reality." + +Walter Murie smiled dubiously. "Sir Henry scouts the idea of the +Whispers being heard at Glencardine," he said. + +"And, strangely enough, so does the Baron. He's a most matter-of-fact +man." + +"How curious that the cases are almost parallel, and yet so far apart! +The Baron has a daughter, and so has Sir Henry." + +"Gabrielle is at Glencardine, I suppose?" asked Hamilton. + +"No, she's living with a maiden aunt at an out-of-the-world village in +Northamptonshire called Woodnewton." + +"Oh, I thought she always lived at Glencardine, and acted as her +father's right hand." + +"She did until a few months ago, when----" and he paused. "Well," he +went on, "I don't know exactly what occurred, except that she left +suddenly, and has not since returned." + +"Her mother, perhaps. No girl of spirit gets on well with her +stepmother." + +"Possibly that," Walter said. He knew the truth, but had no desire to +tell even his old friend of the allegation against the girl whom he +loved. + +Hamilton noted the name of the village, and sat wondering at what the +young barrister had just told him. It had aroused suspicions within +him--strange suspicions. + +They sat together for another half-hour, and before they parted arranged +to lunch together at the Savoy in two days' time. + +Turning out of the Temple, Edgar Hamilton walked along the Strand to the +Metropole, in Northumberland Avenue, where he was staying. His mind was +full of what his friend had said--full of that curious legend of +Glencardine which coincided so strangely with that of far-off +Hetzendorf. The jostling crowd in the busy London thoroughfare he did +not see. He was away again on the hill outside the old-fashioned +Hungarian town, with the broad Danube shining in the white moonbeams. He +saw the grim walls that had for centuries withstood the brunt of battle +with the Turks, and from them came the whispering voice--the voice said +to be that of the Evil One. The Tziganes--that brown-faced race of gipsy +wanderers, the women with their bright-coloured skirts and head-dresses, +and the men with the wonderful old silver filigree buttons upon their +coats---had related to him many weird stories regarding Hetzendorf and +the meaning of those whispers. Yet none of their stories was so curious +as that which Murie had just told him. Similar sounds were actually +heard in the old castle up in the Highlands! His thoughts were wholly +absorbed in that one extraordinary fact. + +He went to the smoking-room of the hotel, and, obtaining a +railway-guide, searched it in vain. Then, ordering from a waiter a map +of England, he eagerly searched Northamptonshire and discovered the +whereabouts of Woodnewton. Therefore, that night he left London for +Oundle, and put up at the old-fashioned "Talbot." + +At ten o'clock on the following morning, after making a detour, he +alighted from a dogcart before the little inn called the Westmorland +Arms at Apethorpe, just outside the lodge-gates of Apethorpe Hall, and +making excuse to the groom that he was going for a walk, he set off at a +brisk pace over the little bridge and up the hill to Woodnewton. + +The morning was dark and gloomy, with threatening rain, and the distance +was somewhat greater than he had calculated from the map. At last, +however, he came to the entrance to the long village street, with its +church and its rows of low thatched cottages. + +A tiny inn, called the "White Lion," stood before him, therefore he +entered, and calling for some ale, commenced to chat with the old lady +who kept the place. + +After the usual conventionalities about the weather, he said, "I suppose +you don't have very many strangers in Woodnewton, eh?" + +"Not many, sir," was her reply. "We see a few people from Oundle and +Northampton in the summer--holiday folk. But that's all." + +Then, by dint of skilful questioning, he elucidated the fact that old +Miss Heyburn lived in the tiled house further up the village, and that +her niece, who lived with her, had passed along with her dog about a +quarter of an hour before, and taken the footpath towards Southwick. + +Ascertaining this, he was all anxiety to follow her; but, knowing how +sharp are village eyes upon a stranger, he was compelled to conceal his +eagerness, light another cigarette, and continue his chat. + +At last, however, he wished the woman good-day, and, strolling half-way +up the village, turned into a narrow lane which led across a farmyard to +a footpath which ran across the fields, following a brook. Eager to +overtake the girl, he sped along as quickly as possible. + +"Gabrielle Heyburn!" he ejaculated, speaking to himself. Her name was +all that escaped his lips. A dozen times that morning he had repeated +it, uttering it in a tone almost of wonder--almost of awe. + +Across several ploughed fields he went, leaving the brook, and, skirting +a high hedge to the side of a small wood, he followed the well-trodden +path for nearly half-an-hour, when, of a sudden, he emerged from a +narrow lane between two hedgerows into a large pasture. + +Before him, he saw standing together, on the brink of the river Nene, +two figures--a man and a woman. + +The girl was dressed in blue serge, and wore a white woollen +tam-o'-shanter, while the man had on a dark grey overcoat with a brown +felt hat, and nearby, with his eye upon some sheep grazing some distance +away, stood a big collie. + +Hamilton started, and drew back. + +The pair were standing together in earnest conversation, the man facing +him, the girl with her back turned. + +"What does this mean?" gasped Hamilton aloud. "What can this secret +meeting mean? Why--yes, I'm certainly not mistaken--it's Krail--Felix +Krail, by all that's amazing!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +DESCRIBES A CURIOUS CIRCUMSTANCE + +To Hamilton it was evident that the man Krail, now smartly dressed in +country tweeds, was telling the girl something which surprised her. He +was speaking quickly, making involuntary gestures which betrayed his +foreign birth, while she stood pale, surprised, and yet defiant. The +Baron's secretary was not near enough to overhear their words. Indeed, +he remained there in concealment in order to watch. + +Why had Gabrielle met Felix Krail--of all men? She was beautiful. Yes, +there could be no two opinions upon that point, Edgar decided. And yet +how strange it all was, how very remarkable, how romantic! + +The man was evidently endeavouring to impress upon the girl some plain +truths to which, at first, she refused to listen. She shrugged her +shoulders impatiently and swung her walking-stick before her in an +attempt to remain unconcerned. But from where Hamilton was standing he +could plainly detect her agitation. Whatever Krail had told her had +caused her much nervous anxiety. What could it be? + +Across the meadows, beyond the river, could be seen the lantern-tower of +old Fotheringhay church, with the mound behind where once stood the +castle where ill-fated Mary met her doom. + +And as the Baron's secretary watched, he saw that the foreigner's +attitude was gradually changing from persuasive to threatening. He was +speaking quickly, probably in French, making wild gestures with his +hands, while she had drawn back with an expression of alarm. She was +now, it seemed, frightened at the man, and to Edgar Hamilton this +increased the interest tenfold. + +Through his mind there flashed the recollection of a previous occasion +when he had seen the man now before him. He was in different garb, and +acting a very different part. But his face was still the same--a +countenance which it was impossible to forget. He was watching the +changing expression upon the girl's face. Would that he could read the +secret hidden behind those wonderful eyes! He had, quite unexpectedly, +discovered a mysterious circumstance. Why should Krail meet her by +accident at that lonely spot? + +The pair moved very slowly together along the path which, having left +the way to Southwick, ran along the very edge of the broad, winding +river towards Fotheringhay. Until they had crossed the wide pasture-land +and followed the bend of the stream Hamilton dare not emerge from his +place of concealment. They might glance back and discover him. If so, +then to watch Krail's movements further would be futile. + +He saw that, by the exercise of caution, he might perhaps learn +something of deeper interest than he imagined. So he watched until they +disappeared, and then sped along the path they had taken until he came +to a clump of bushes which afforded further cover. From where he stood, +however, he could see nothing. He could hear voices--a man's voice +raised in distinct threats, and a woman's quick, defiant response. + +He walked round the bushes quickly, trying to get sight of the pair, but +the river bent sharply at that point in such a manner that he could not +get a glimpse of them. + +Again he heard Krail speaking rapidly in French, and still again the +girl's response. Then, next instant, there was a shrill scream and a +loud splash. + +Next moment, he had darted from his hiding-place to find the girl +struggling in the water, while at the same time he caught sight of Krail +disappearing quickly around the path. Had he glanced back he could not +have seen the girl in the stream. + +At that point the bank was steep, and the stillness of the river and +absence of rushes told that it was deep. + +The girl was throwing up her hand, shrieking for help; therefore, +without a second's hesitation, Hamilton, who was a good swimmer, threw +off his coat, and, diving in, was soon at her side. + +By this time Krail had hurried on, and could obtain no glimpse of what +was in progress owing to the sharp bend of the river. + +After considerable splashing--Hamilton urging her to remain calm--he +succeeded in bringing her to land, where they both struggled up the bank +dripping wet and more or less exhausted. Some moments elapsed before +either spoke; until, indeed, Hamilton, looking straight into the girl's +face and bursting out laughing, exclaimed, "Well, I think I have the +pleasure of being acquainted with you, but I must say that we both look +like drowned rats!" + +"I look horrid!" she declared, staring at him half-dazed, putting her +hands to her dripping hair. "I know I must. But I have to thank you for +pulling me out. Only fancy, Mr. Hamilton--you!" + +"Oh, no thanks are required! What we must do is to get to some place and +get our clothes dried," he said. "Do you know this neighbourhood?" + +"Oh, yes. Straight over there, about a quarter of a mile away, is +Wyatt's farm. Mrs. Wyatt will look after us, I'm sure." And as she rose +to her feet, regarding her companion shyly, her skirts clung around her +and the water squelched from her shoes. + +"Very well," he answered cheerily. "Let's go and see what can be done +towards getting some dry kit. I'm glad you're not too frightened. A good +many girls would have fainted, and all that kind of thing." + +"I certainly should have gone under if you hadn't so fortunately come +along!" she exclaimed. "I really don't know how to thank you +sufficiently. You've actually saved my life, you know! If it were not +for you I'd have been dead by this time, for I can't swim a stroke." + +"By Jove!" he laughed, treating the whole affair as a huge joke, "how +romantic it sounds! Fancy meeting you again after all this time, and +saving your life! I suppose the papers will be full of it if they get to +know--gallant rescue, and all that kind of twaddle." + +"Well, personally, I hope the papers won't get hold of this piece of +intelligence," she said seriously, as they walked together, rather +pitiable objects, across the wide grass-fields. + +He glanced at her pale face, her hair hanging dank and wet about it, and +saw that, even under these disadvantageous conditions, she had grown +more beautiful than before. Of late he had heard of her--heard a good +deal of her--but had never dreamed that they would meet again in that +manner. + +"How did it happen?" he asked in pretence of ignorance of her +companion's presence. + +She raised her fine eyes to his for a moment, and wavered beneath his +inquiring gaze. + +"I--I--well, I really don't know," was her rather lame answer. "The bank +was very slippery, and--well, I suppose I walked too near." + +Her reply struck him as curious. Why did she attempt to shield the man +who, by his sudden flight, was self-convicted of an attempt upon her +life? + +Felix Krail was not a complete stranger to her. Why had their meeting +been a clandestine one? This, and a thousand similar queries ran through +his mind as they walked across the field in the direction of a long, +low, thatched farmhouse which stood in the distance. + +"I'm a complete stranger in these parts," Hamilton informed her. "I live +nowadays mostly abroad, away above the Danube, and am only home for a +holiday." + +"And I'm afraid you've completely spoilt your clothes," she laughed, +looking at his wet, muddy trousers and boots. + +"Well, if I have, yours also are no further good." + +"Oh, my blouse will wash, and I shall send my skirt to the cleaners, and +it will come back like new," she answered. "Women's outdoor clothing +never suffers by a wetting. We'll get Mrs. Wyatt to dry them, and then +I'll get home again to my aunt in Woodnewton. Do you know the place?" + +"I fancy I passed through it this morning. One of those long, lean +villages, with a church at the end." + +"That's it--the dullest little place in all England, I believe." + +He was struck by her charm of manner. Though bedraggled and dishevelled, +she was nevertheless delightful, and treated her sudden immersion with +careless unconcern. + +Why had Krail attempted to get rid of her in that manner? What motive +had he? + +They reached the farmhouse, where Mrs. Wyatt, a stout, ruddy-faced +woman, detecting their approach, met them upon the threshold. "Lawks, +Miss Heyburn! why, what's happened?" she asked in alarm. + +"I fell into the river, and this gentleman fished me out. That's all," +laughed the girl. "We want to dry our things, if we may." + +In a few minutes, in bedrooms upstairs, they had exchanged their wet +clothes for dry ones. Then Edgar in the farmer's Sunday suit of black, +and Gabrielle in one of Mrs. Wyatt's stuff dresses, in the big folds of +which her slim little figure was lost, met again in the spacious +farmhouse-kitchen below. + +They laughed heartily at the ridiculous figure which each presented, and +drank the glasses of hot milk which the farmer's wife pressed upon them. + +Old Miss Heyburn had been Mrs. Wyatt's mistress years ago, when she was +in service, therefore she was most solicitous after the girl's welfare, +and truth to tell looked askance at the good-looking stranger who had +accompanied her. + +Gabrielle, too, was puzzled to know why Mr. Hamilton should be there. +That he now lived abroad "beside the Danube" was all the information he +had vouchsafed regarding himself, yet from certain remarks he had +dropped she was suspicious. She recollected only too vividly the +occasion when they had met last, and what had occurred. + +They sat together on the bench outside the house, enjoying the full +sunshine, while the farmer's wife chattered on. A big fire had been made +in the kitchen, and their clothes were rapidly drying. + +Hamilton, by careful questions, endeavoured to obtain from the girl some +information concerning her dealings with the man Krail. But she was too +wary. It was evident that she had some distinct object in concealing the +fact that he had deliberately flung her into the water after that heated +altercation. + +Felix Krail! The very name caused him to clench his hands. Fortunately, +he knew the truth, therefore that dastardly attempt upon the girl's life +should not go unpunished. As he sat there chatting with her, admiring +her refinement and innate daintiness, he made a vow within himself to +seek out that cowardly fugitive and meet him face to face. + +Felix Krail! What could be his object in ridding the world of the +daughter of Sir Henry Heyburn! What would the man gain thereby? He knew +Krail too well to imagine that he ever did anything without a motive of +gain. So well did he play his cards always that the police could never +lay hands upon him. Yet his "friends," as he termed them, were among the +most dangerous men in all Europe--men who were unscrupulous, and would +hesitate at nothing in order to accomplish the _coup_ which they had +devised. + +What was the _coup_ in this particular instance? Ay, that was the +question. + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +OUTSIDE THE WINDOW + +Late on the following afternoon Gabrielle was seated at the +old-fashioned piano in her aunt's tiny drawing-room, her fingers running +idly over the keys, her thoughts wandering back to the exciting +adventure of the previous morning. Her aunt was out visiting some old +people in connection with the village clothing club, therefore she sat +gloomily amusing herself at the piano, and thinking--ever thinking. + +She had been playing almost mechanically Berger's "Amoureuse" valse and +some dreamy music from _The Merry Widow_, when she suddenly stopped and +sat back with her eyes fixed out of the window upon the cottages +opposite. + +Why was Mr. Hamilton in that neighbourhood? He had given her no further +information concerning himself. He seemed to be disinclined to talk +about his recent movements. He had sprung from nowhere just at the +critical moment when she was in such deadly peril. Then, after their +clothes had been dried, they had walked together as far as the little +bridge at the entrance to Fotheringhay. + +There he had stopped, bent gallantly over her hand, congratulated her +upon her escape, and as their ways lay in opposite directions--she back +to Woodnewton and he on to Oundle--they had parted. "I hope, Miss +Heyburn, that we may meet again one day," he had laughed cheerily as he +raised his hat, "Good-bye." Then he had turned away, and had been lost +to view round the bend of the road. + +She was safe. That man whom she had known long ago under such strange +circumstances, whom she would probably never see again, had been her +rescuer. Of this curious and romantic fact she was now thinking. + +But where was Walter? Why had he not replied to her letter? Ah! that was +the one thought which oppressed her always, sleeping and waking, day and +night. Why had he not written? Would he never write again? + +She had at first consoled herself with the thought that he was probably +on the Continent, and that her letter had not been forwarded. But as the +days went on, and no reply came, the truth became more and more apparent +that her lover--the man whom she adored and worshipped--had put her +aside, had accepted her at her own estimate as worthless. + +A thousand times she had regretted the step she had taken in writing +that cruel letter before she left Glencardine. But it was all too late. +She had tried to retract; but, alas! it was now impossible. + +Tears welled in her splendid eyes at thought of the man whom she had +loved so well. The world had, indeed, been cruel to her. Her enemies had +profited by her inexperience, and she had fallen an unhappy victim of an +unscrupulous blackguard. Yes, it was only too true. She did not try to +conceal the ugly truth from herself. Yet she had been compelled to keep +Walter in ignorance of the truth, for he loved her. + +A hardness showed at the corners of her sweet lips, and the tears rolled +slowly down her cheeks. Then, bestirring herself with an effort, her +white fingers ran over the keys again, and in her sweet, musical voice +she sang "L'Heure d'Aimer," that pretty _valse chantee_ so popular in +Paris:-- + + Voici l'heure d'aimer, l'heure des tendresses; + Dis-moi les mots tres doux qui vont me griser, + Ah! prends-moi dans tes bras, fais-moi des caresses; + Je veux mourir pour revivre sous ton baiser. + Emporte-moi dans un reve amoureux, + Bien loin sur la terre inconnue, + Pour que longtemps, meme en rouvrant les yeux, + Ce reve continue. + + Croyons, aimons, vivons un jour; + C'est si bon, mais si court! + Bonheur de vivre ici-bas diminue + Dans un moment d'amour. + +The Hour of Love! How full of burning love and sentiment! She stopped, +reflecting on the meaning of those words. + +She was not like the average miss who, parrot-like, knows only a few +French or Italian songs. Italian she loved even better than French, and +could read Dante and Petrarch in the original, while she possessed an +intimate knowledge of the poetry of Italy from the mediaeval writers +down to Carducci and D'Annunzio. + +With a sigh, she glanced around the small room, with its old-fashioned +furniture, its antimacassars of the early Victorian era, its wax flowers +under their glass dome, and its gipsy-table covered with a +hand-embroidered cloth. It was all so very dispiriting. The primness of +the whatnot decorated with pieces of treasured china, the big +gilt-framed overmantel, and the old punch-bowl filled with pot-pourri, +all spoke mutely of the thin-nosed old spinster to whom the veriest +speck of dust was an abomination. + +Sighing still again, the girl turned once more to the old-fashioned +instrument, with its faded crimson silk behind the walnut fretwork, and, +playing the plaintive melody, sang an ancient serenade: + + Di questo cor tu m'hai ferito il core + A cento colpi, piu non val mentire. + Pensa che non sopporto piu il dolore, + E se segu cosi, vado a morire. + Ti tengo nella mente a tutte l'ore, + Se lavoro, se velio, o sto a dormre ... + E mentre dormo ancora un sonno grato, + Mi trovo tutto lacrime bagnato! + +While she sang, there was a rap at the front-door, and, just as she +concluded, the prim maid entered with a letter upon a salver. + +In an instant her heart gave a bound. She recognised the handwriting. It +was Walter's. + +The moment the girl had left the room she tore open the envelope, and, +holding her breath, read what was written within. + +The words were: + +"DEAREST HEART,--Your letter came to me after several wanderings. It has +caused me to think and to wonder if, after all, I may be mistaken--if, +after all, I have misjudged you, darling. I gave you my heart, it is +true. But you spurned it--under compulsion, you say! Why under +compulsion? Who is it who compels you to act against your will and +against your better nature? I know that you love me as well and as truly +as I love you yourself. I long to see you with just as great a longing. +You are mine--mine, my own--and being mine, you must tell me the truth. + +"I forgive you, forgive you everything. But I cannot understand what +Flockart means by saying that I have spoken of you. I have not seen the +man, nor do I wish to see him. Gabrielle, do not trust him. He is your +enemy, as he is mine. He has lied to you. As grim circumstance has +forced you to treat me cruelly, let us hope that smiling fortune will be +ours at last. The world is very small. I have just met my old friend +Edgar Hamilton, who was at college with me, and who, I find, is +secretary to some wealthy foreigner, a certain Baron de Hetzendorf. I +have not seen him for years, and yet he turns up here, merry and +prosperous, after struggling for a long time with adverse circumstances. + +"But, Gabrielle, your letter has puzzled and alarmed me. The more I +think of it, the more mystifying it all becomes. I must see you, and you +must tell me the truth--the whole truth. We love each other, dear heart, +and no one shall force you to lie again to me as you did in that letter +you wrote from Glencardine. You wish to see me, darling. You shall--and +you shall tell me the truth. My dear love, _au revoir_--until we meet, +which I hope may be almost as soon as you receive this letter.--My love, +my sweetheart, I am your own WALTER." + +She sat staring at the letter. He demanded an explanation. He intended +to come there and demand it! And the explanation was one which she dared +not give. Rather that she took her own life than tell him the ghastly +circumstances. + +He had met an old chum named Hamilton. Was this the Mr. Hamilton who had +snatched her from that deadly peril? The name of Hetzendorf sounded to +be Austrian or German. How strange if Mr. Hamilton her rescuer were the +same man who had been years ago her lover's college friend! + +She passed her white hand across her brow, trying to collect her senses. + +She had longed--ah, with such an intense longing!--for a response to +that letter of hers, and here at last it had come. But what a response! +He intended her to make confession. He demanded to know the actual +truth. What could she do? How should she act? + +Holding the letter in her hand, she glanced around the little room in +utter despair. + +He loved her. His words of reassurance brought her great comfort. But he +wished to know the truth. He suspected something. By her own action in +writing those letters she had aroused suspicion against herself. She +regretted, yet what was the use of regret? Her own passionate words had +revealed to him something which he had not suspected. And he was coming +down there, to Woodnewton, to demand the truth! He might even then be on +his way! + +If he asked her point-blank, what could she reply? She dare not tell him +the truth. There were now but two roads open--either death by her own +hand or to lie to him. + +Could she tell him an untruth? No. She loved him, therefore she could +not resort to false declarations and deceit. Better--far better--would +it be that she took her own life. Better, she thought, if Mr. Hamilton +had not plunged into the river after her. If her life had ended, Walter +Murie would at least have been spared the bitter knowledge of a +disgraceful truth. Her face grew pale and her mouth hardened at the +thought. + +She loved him with all the fierce passion of her young heart. He was her +hero, her idol. Before her tear-dimmed eyes his dear, serious face rose, +a sweet memory of what had been. Tender remembrances of his fond kisses +still lingered with her. She recollected how around her waist his strong +arm would steal, and how slowly and yet irresistibly he would draw her +in his arms in silent ecstasy. + +Alas! that was all past and over. They loved each other, but she was now +face to face with what she had so long dreaded--face to face with the +inevitable. She must either confess the truth, and by so doing turn his +love to hatred, or else remain silent and face the end. + +She reread the letter still seated at the piano, her elbows resting +inertly upon the keys. Then she lifted her pale face again to the +window, gazing out blankly upon the village street, so dull, so silent, +so uninteresting. The thought of Mr. Hamilton--the man who held a secret +of hers, and who only a few hours before had rescued her from the peril +in which Felix Krail had placed her--again recurred to her. Was it not +remarkable that he, Walter's old friend, should come down into that +neighbourhood? There was some motive in his visit! What could it be? He +had spoken of Hungary, a country which had always possessed for her a +strange fascination. Was it not quite likely that, being Walter's +friend, Hamilton on his return to London would relate the exciting +incident of the river? Had he seen Krail? And, if so, did he know him? + +Those two points caused her the greatest apprehension. Suppose he had +recognised Krail! Suppose he had overheard that man's demands, and her +defiant refusal, he would surely tell Walter! + +She bit her lip, and her white fingers clenched themselves in +desperation. + +Why should all this misfortune fall upon her, to wreck her young life? +Other girls were gay, careless, and happy. They visited and motored and +flirted and danced, and went to theatres in town and to suppers +afterwards at the Carlton or Savoy, and had what they termed "a ripping +good time." But to her poor little self all pleasure was debarred. Only +the grim shadows of life were hers. + +Her mind had become filled with despair. Why had this great calamity +befallen her? Why had she, by her own action in writing to her lover, +placed herself in that terrible position from which there was no +escape--save by death? + +The recollection of the Whispers--those fatal Whispers of +Glencardine--flashed through her distressed mind. Was it actually true, +as the countryfolk declared, that death overtook all those who overheard +the counsels of the Evil One? It really seemed as though there actually +was more in the weird belief than she had acknowledged. Her father had +scouted the idea, yet old Stewart, who had personally known instances, +had declared that evil and disaster fell inevitably upon any one who +chanced to hear those voices of the night. + +The recollection of that moonlight hour among the ruins, and the +distinct voices whispering, caused a shudder to run through her. She had +heard them with her own ears, and ever since that moment nothing but +catastrophe upon catastrophe had fallen upon her. + +Yes, she had heard the Whispers, and she could not escape their evil +influence any more than those other unfortunate persons to whom death +had come so unexpectedly and swiftly. + +A shadow passed the window, causing her to start. The figure was that of +a man. She rose from the piano with a cry, and stood erect, motionless, +statuesque. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +IS ABOUT THE MAISON LENARD + +The big, rather severely but well-furnished room overlooked the busy +Boulevard des Capucines in Paris. In front lay the great white facade of +the Grand Hotel; below was all the bustle, life, and movement of Paris +on a bright sunny afternoon. Within the room, at a large mahogany table, +sat four grave-faced men, while a fifth stood at one of the long +windows, his back turned to his companions. + +The short, broad-shouldered man looking forth into the street, in +expectancy, was Monsieur Goslin. He had been speaking, and his words had +evidently caused some surprise, even alarm, among his companions, for +they now exchanged glances in silence. + +Three of the men were well-dressed and prosperous-looking; while the +fourth, a shrivelled old fellow, in faded clothes which seemed several +sizes too large for him, looked needy and ill-fed as he nervously chafed +his thin bony hands. + +Next moment they all began chatting in French, though from their +countenances it was plain that they were of various nationalities--one +being German, the other Italian, and the third, a sallow-faced man, had +the appearance of a Levantine. + +Goslin alone remained silent and watchful. From where he stood he could +see the people entering and leaving the Grand Hotel. He glanced +impatiently at his watch, and then paced the room, his hand thoughtfully +stroking his grey beard. Only half an hour before he had alighted at the +Gare du Nord, coming direct from far-off Glencardine, and had driven +there in an auto-cab to keep an appointment made by telegram. As he +paced the big room, with its dark-green walls, its Turkey carpet, and +sombre furniture, his companions regarded him in wonder. They +instinctively knew that he had some news of importance to impart. There +was one absentee. Until his arrival Goslin refused to say anything. + +The youngest of the four assembled at the table was the Italian, a +rather thin, keen-faced, dark-moustached man of refined appearance. +"_Madonna mia!_" he cried, raising his face to the Frenchman, "why, what +has happened? This is unusual. Besides, why should we wait? I've only +just arrived from Turin, and haven't had time to go to the hotel. Let us +get on. _Avanti!_" + +"Not until he is present," answered Goslin, speaking earnestly in +French. "I have a statement to make from Sir Henry. But I am not +permitted to make it until all are here." Then, glancing at his watch, +he added, "His train was due at Est Station at 4.58. He ought to be here +at any moment." + +The shabby old man, by birth a Pole, still sat chafing his chilly +fingers. None who saw Antoine Volkonski, as he shuffled along the +street, ever dreamed that he was head of the great financial house of +Volkonski Freres of Petersburg, whose huge loans to the Russian +Government during the war with Japan created a sensation throughout +Europe, and surely no casual observer looking at that little assembly +would ever entertain suspicion that, between them, they could +practically dictate to the money-market of Europe. + +The Italian seated next to him was the Commendatore Rudolphe Cusani, +head of the wealthy banking firm of Montemartini of Rome, which ranked +next to the Bank of Italy. Of the remaining two, one was a Greek from +Smyrna, and the other, a rather well-dressed man with longish grey hair, +Josef Frohnmeyer of Hamburg, a name also to conjure with in the +financial world. + +The impatient Italian was urging Goslin to explain why the meeting had +been so hastily summoned when, without warning, the door opened and a +tall, distinguished man, with carefully trained grey moustache, and +wearing a heavy travelling ulster, entered. + +"Ah, my dear Baron!" cried the Italian, jumping from his chair and +taking the new-comer's hand, "we were waiting for you." And he drew a +chair next to his. + +The man addressed tossed his soft felt travelling hat aside, saying, +"The 'wire' reached me at a country house outside Vienna, where I was +visiting. But I came instantly." And he seated himself, while the chair +at the head of the table was taken by the stout Frenchman. + +"Messieurs," Goslin commenced, and--speaking in French--began +apologising at being compelled to call them together so soon after their +last meeting. "The matter, however, is of such urgency," he went on, +"that this conference is absolutely necessary. I am here in Sir Henry's +place, with a statement from him--an alarming statement. Our enemies +have unfortunately triumphed." + +"What do you mean?" cried the Italian, starting to his feet. + +"Simply this. Poor Sir Henry has been the victim of treachery.--Those +papers which you, my dear Volkonski, brought to me in secret at +Glencardine a month ago have been stolen!" + +"Stolen!" gasped the shabby old man, his grey eyes starting from his +head; "stolen! _Dieu!_ Think what that means to us--to me--to my house! +They will be sold to the Ministry of Finance in Petersburg, and I shall +be ruined--ruined!" + +"Not only you will be ruined!" remarked the man from Hamburg, "but our +control of the market will be at an end." + +"And together we lose over three million roubles," said Goslin in as +quiet a voice as he could assume. + +The six men--those men who dealt in millions, men whose names, every one +of them, were as household words on the various Bourses of Europe and in +banking circles, men who lent money to reigning Sovereigns and to +States, whose interests were world-wide and whose influences were +greater than those of Kings and Ministers--looked at each other in blank +despair. + +"We have to face this fact, as Sir Henry points out to you, that at +Petersburg the Department of Finance has no love for us. We put on the +screw a little too heavily when we sold them secretly those three +Argentine cruisers. We made a mistake in not being content with smaller +profit." + +"Yes, if it had been a genuinely honest deal on their side," remarked +the Italian. "But it was not. In Russia the crowd made quite as great a +profit as we did." + +"And all three ships were sent to the bottom of the sea four months +afterwards," added Frohnmeyer with a grim laugh. + +"That isn't the question," Goslin said. "What we have now to face is the +peril of exposure. No one can, of course, allege that we have ever +resorted to any sharper practices than those of other financial groups; +but the fact of our alliance and our impregnable strength will, when it +is known, arouse the fiercest antagonism in certain circles." + +"No one suspects the secret of our alliance," the Italian ejaculated. +"It must be kept--kept at all hazards." + +Each man seated there knew that exposure of the tactics by which they +were ruling the Bourse would mean the sudden end of their great +prosperity. + +"But this is not the first occasion that documents have been stolen from +Sir Henry at Glencardine," remarked the Baron Conrad de Hetzendorf. "I +remember the last time I went there to see him he explained how he had +discovered his daughter with the safe open, and some of the papers +actually in her hands." + +"Unfortunately that is so," Goslin answered. "There is every evidence +that we owe our present peril to her initiative. She and her father are +on bad terms, and it seems more than probable that though she is no +longer at Glencardine she has somehow contrived to get hold of the +documents in question--at the instigation of her lover, we believe." + +"How do you know that the documents are stolen?" the Baron asked. + +"Because three days ago Sir Henry received an anonymous letter bearing +the postmark of 'London, E.C.,' enclosing correct copies of the papers +which our friend Volkonski brought from Petersburg, and asking what sum +he was prepared to pay to obtain repossession of the originals. On +receipt of the letter," continued Goslin, "I rushed to the safe, to find +the papers gone. The door had been unlocked and relocked by an unknown +hand." + +"And how does suspicion attach to the girl's lover?" asked the man from +Hamburg. + +"Well, he was alone in the library for half an hour about five days +before. He called to see Sir Henry while he and I were out walking +together in the park. It is believed that the girl has a key to the +safe, which she handed to her lover in order that he might secure the +papers and sell them in Russia." + +"But young Murie is the son of a wealthy man, I've heard," observed the +Baron. + +"Certainly. But at present his allowance is small," was Goslin's reply. + +"Well, what's to be done?" inquired the Italian. + +"Done?" echoed Goslin. "Nothing can be done." + +"Why?" they all asked almost in one breath. + +"Because Sir Henry has replied, refusing to treat for the return of the +papers." + +"Was that not injudicious? Why did he not allow us to discuss the affair +first?" argued the Levantine. + +"Because an immediate answer by telegraph to a post-office in Hampshire +was demanded," Goslin replied. "Remember that to Sir Henry's remarkable +foresight all our prosperity has been due. Surely we may trust in his +judicious treatment of the thief!" + +"That's all very well," protested Volkonski; "but my fortune is at +stake. If the Ministry obtains those letters they will crush and ruin +me." + +"Sir Henry is no novice," remarked the Baron. "He fights an enemy with +his own weapons. Remember that Greek deal of which the girl gained +knowledge. He actually prepared bogus contracts and correspondence for +the thief to steal. They were stolen, and, passing through a dozen +hands, were at last offered in Athens. The Ministry there laughed at the +thieves for their pains. Let us hope the same result will be now +obtained." + +"I fear not," Goslin said quietly. "The documents stolen on the former +occasion were worthless. The ones now in the hands of our enemies are +genuine." + +"But," said the Baron, "you, Goslin, went to live at Glencardine on +purpose to protect our poor blind friend from his enemies!" + +"I know," said the man addressed. "I did my best--and failed. The +footman Hill, knowing young Murie as a frequent guest at Glencardine, +the other day showed him into the library and left him there alone. It +was then, no doubt, that he opened the safe with a false key and secured +the documents." + +"Then why not apply for a warrant for his arrest?" suggested the +Commendatore Cusani. "Surely your English laws do not allow thieves to +go unpunished? In Italy we should quickly lay hands on them." + +"But we have no evidence." + +"You have no suspicion that any other man may have committed the +theft--that fellow Flockart, for instance? I don't like him," added the +Baron. "He is altogether too friendly with everybody at Glencardine." + +"I have already made full inquiries. Flockart was in Rome. He only +returned to London the day before yesterday. No. Everything points to +the girl taking revenge upon her father, who, I am compelled to admit, +has treated her with rather undue harshness. Personally, I consider +mademoiselle very charming and intelligent." + +They all admitted that her correspondence and replies to reports were +marvels of clear, concise instruction. Every man among them knew well +her neat round handwriting, yet only Goslin had ever seen her. + +The Frenchman was asked to describe both the girl and her lover. This he +did, declaring that Gabrielle and Walter were a very handsome pair. + +"Whatever may be said," remarked old Volkonski, "the girl was a most +excellent assistant to Sir Henry. But it is, of course, the old story--a +young girl's head turned by a handsome lover. Yet surely the youth is +not so poor that he became a thief of necessity. To me it seems rather +as though he stole the documents at her instigation." + +"That is exactly Sir Henry's belief," Goslin remarked with a sigh. "The +poor old fellow is beside himself with grief and fear." + +"No wonder!" remarked the Italian. "None of us would care to be betrayed +by our own daughters." + +"But cannot a trap be laid to secure the thief before he approaches the +people in Russia?" suggested the crafty Levantine. + +"Yes, yes!" cried Volkonski, his hands still clenched. "The Ministry +would give a hundred thousand roubles for them, because by their aid +they could crush me--crush you all. Remember, there are names +there--names of some of the most prominent officials in the Empire. +Think of the power of the Ministry if they held that list in their +hands!" + +"No," said the Baron in a clear, distinct voice, his grey eyes fixed +thoughtfully upon the wall opposite. "Rather think of our positions, of +the exultation of our enemies if this great combine of ours were exposed +and broken! Myself, I consider it folly that we have met here openly +to-day. This is the first time we have all met, save in secret, and how +do we know but some spy may be on the _boulevard_ outside noting who has +entered here?" + +"_Mille diavoli!_" gasped Cusani, striking the table with his fist and +sinking back into his chair. "I recollect I passed outside here a man I +know--a man who knows me. He was standing on the kerb. He saw me. His +name is Krail--Felix Krail!" + +"Is he still there?" cried the men, as with one accord they left their +chairs and dashed eagerly across to the window. + +"Krail!" cried the Russian in alarm. "Where is he?" + +"See!" the Italian pointed out, "see the man in black yonder, standing +there near the _kiosque_, smoking a cigarette. He is still watching. He +has seen us meet here!" + +"Ah!" said the Baron in a hoarse voice, "I said so. To meet openly like +this was far too great a risk. Nobody knew anything of Lenard et +Morellet of the Boulevard des Capucines except that they were +unimportant financiers. To-morrow the world will know who they really +are. Messieurs, we are the victims of a very clever ruse. We have been +so tricked that we have been actually summoned here and our identity +disclosed!" + +The five monarchs of finance stood staring at each other in absolute +silence. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +SURPRISES MR. FLOCKART + +"Well, you and your friend Felix have placed me in a very pleasant +position, haven't you?" asked Lady Heyburn of Flockart, who had just +entered the green-and-white morning-room at Park Street. "I hope now +that you're satisfied with your blunder!" + +The man addressed, in a well-cut suit of grey, a fancy vest, and +patent-leather boots, still carrying his hat and stick in his hand, +turned to her in surprise. + +"What do you mean?" he asked. "I arrived from Paris at five this +morning, and I've brought you good news." + +"Nonsense!" cried the woman, starting from her chair in anger. "You +can't deceive me any longer." + +"Krail has discovered the whole game. The syndicate held a meeting at +the office in Paris. He and I watched the arrivals. We now know who they +are, and exactly what they are doing. By Jove! we never dreamed that +your husband, blind though he is, is head of such a smart and +influential group. Why, they're the first in Europe." + +"What does that matter? Krail wants money, so do we; but even with all +your wonderful schemes we get none!" + +"Wait, my dear Winnie, remain patient, and we shall obtain plenty." + +It was indeed strange for a woman within that smart town-house, and with +her electric brougham at the door, to complain of poverty. The house had +been a centre of political activity in the days before Sir Henry met +with that terrible affliction. The room in which the pair stood had been +the scene of many a private and momentous conference, and in the big +drawing-room upstairs many a Cabinet Minister had bent over the hand of +the fair Lady Heyburn. + +Into the newly decorated room, with its original Adams ceiling, its +dead-white panelling and antique overmantel, shone the morning sun, weak +and yellow as it always is in London in the spring-time. + +Lady Heyburn, dressed in a smart walking-gown of grey, pushed her fluffy +fair hair from her brow, while upon her face was an expression which +told of combined fear and anger. + +Her visitor was surprised. After that watchful afternoon in the +Boulevard des Capucines, he had sat in a corner of the Cafe Terminus +listening to Krail, who rubbed his hands with delight and declared that +he now held the most powerful group in Europe in the hollow of his hand. + +For the past six years or so gigantic _coups_ had been secured by that +unassuming and apparently third-rate financial house of Lenard et +Morellet. From a struggling firm they had within a year grown into one +whose wealth seemed inexhaustible, and whose balances at the Credit +Lyonnais, the Societe Generale, and the Comptoir d'Escompte were +possibly the largest of any of the customers of those great +corporations. The financial world of Europe had wondered. It was a +mystery who was behind Lenard et Morellet, the pair of steady-going, +highly respectable business men who lived in unostentatious comfort, the +former at Enghien, just outside Paris, and the latter out in the country +at Melum. The mystery was so well and so carefully preserved that not +even the bankers themselves could obtain knowledge of the truth. + +Krail had, however, after nearly two years of clever watching and +ingenious subterfuge, succeeded, by placing the group in a "hole" in +calling them together. That they met, and often, was undoubted. But +where they met, and how, was still a complete mystery. + +As Flockart had sat that previous afternoon listening to Krail's +unscrupulous and self-confident proposals, he had remained in silent +wonder at the man's audacious attitude. Nothing deterred him, nothing +daunted him. + +Flockart had returned that night from Paris, gone to his chambers in +Half-Moon Street, breakfasted, dressed, and had now called upon her +ladyship in order to impart to her the good news. Yet, instead of +welcoming him, she only treated him with resentment and scorn. He knew +the quick flash of those eyes, he had seen it before on other occasions. +This was not the first time they had quarrelled, yet he, keen-witted and +cunning, had always held her powerless to elude him, had always +compelled her to give him the sums he so constantly demanded. That +morning, however, she was distinctly resentful, distinctly defiant. + +For an instant he turned from her, biting his lip in annoyance. When +facing her again, he smiled, asking, "Tell me, Winnie, what does all +this mean?" + +"Mean!" echoed the Baronet's wife. "Mean! How can you ask me that +question? Look at me--a ruined woman! And you----" + +"Speak out!" he cried. "What has happened?" + +"You surely know what has happened. You have treated me like the cur you +are--and that is speaking plainly. You've sacrificed me in order to save +yourself." + +"From what?" + +"From exposure. To me, ruin is not a matter of days, but of hours." + +"You're speaking in enigmas. I don't understand you," he cried +impatiently. "Krail and I have at last been successful. We know now the +true source of your husband's huge income, and in order to prevent +exposure he must pay--and pay us well too." + +"Yes," she laughed hysterically. "You tell me all this after you've +blundered." + +"Blundered! How?" he asked, surprised at her demeanour. + +"What's the use of beating about the bush?" asked her ladyship. "The +girl is back at Glencardine. She knows everything, thanks to your +foolish self-confidence." + +"Back at Glencardine!" gasped Flockart. "But she dare not speak. By +heaven! if she does--then--then--" + +"And what, pray, can you do?" inquired the woman harshly. "It is I who +have to suffer, I who am crushed, humiliated, ruined, while you and your +precious friend shield yourselves behind your cloaks of honesty. You are +Sir Henry's friend. He believes you as such--you!" And she laughed the +hollow laugh of a woman who was staring death in the face. She was +haggard and drawn, and her hands trembled with nervousness which she +strove in vain to repress. Lady Heyburn was desperate. + +"He still believes in me, eh?" asked the man, thinking deeply, for his +clever brain was already active to devise some means of escape from what +appeared to be a distinctly awkward dilemma. He had never calculated the +chances of Gabrielle's return to her father's side. He had believed that +impossible. + +"I understand that my husband will hear no word against you," replied +the tall, fair-haired woman. "But when I speak he will listen, depend +upon it." + +"You dare!" he cried, turning upon her in threatening attitude. "You +dare utter a single word against me, and, by Heaven! I'll tell what I +know. The country shall ring with a scandal--the shame of your attitude +towards the girl, and a crime for which you will be arraigned, with me, +before an assize-court. Remember!" + +The woman shrank from him. Her face had blanched. She saw that he was +equally as determined as she was desperate. James Flockart always kept +his threats. He was by no means a man to trifle with. + +For a moment she was thoughtful, then she laughed defiantly in his face. +"Speak! Say what you will. But if you do, you suffer with me." + +"You say that exposure is imminent," he remarked. "How did the girl +manage to return to Glencardine?" + +"With Walter's aid. He went down to Woodnewton. What passed between them +I have no idea. I only returned the day before yesterday from the South. +All I know is that the girl is back with her father, and that he knows +much more than he ought to know." + +"Murie could not have assisted her," Flockart declared decisively. "The +old man suspects him of taking those Russian papers from the safe." + +"How do you know he hasn't cleared himself of the suspicion? He may have +done. The old man dotes upon the girl." + +"I know all that." + +"And she may have turned upon you, and told the truth about the safe +incident. That's more than likely." + +"She dare not utter a word." + +"You're far too self-confident. It is your failing." + +"And when, pray, has it failed? Tell me." + +"Never, until the present moment. Your bluff is perfect, yet there are +moments when it cannot aid you, depend upon it. She told me one night +long ago, in my own room, when she had disobeyed, defied, and annoyed +me, that she would never rest until Sir Henry knew the truth, and that +she would place before him proofs of the other affair. She has long +intended to do this; and now, thanks to your attitude of passive +inertness, she has accomplished her intentions." + +"What!" he gasped in distinct alarm, "has she told her father the +truth?" + +"A telegram I received from Sir Henry late last night makes it only too +plain that he knows something," responded the unhappy woman, staring +straight before her. "It is your fault--your fault!" she went on, +turning suddenly upon her companion again. "I warned you of the danger +long ago." + +Flockart stood motionless. The announcement which the woman had made +staggered him. + +Felix Krail had come to him in Paris, and after some hesitation, and +with some reluctance, had described how he had followed the girl along +the Nene bank and thrown her into the deepest part of the river, knowing +that she would be hampered by her skirts and that she could not swim. +"She will not trouble us further. Never fear!" he had said. "It will be +thought a case of suicide through love. Her mental depression is the +common talk of the neighbourhood." + +And yet the girl was safe and now home again at Glencardine! He +reflected upon the ugly facts of "the other affair" to which her +ladyship sometimes referred, and his face went ashen pale. + +Just at the moment when success had come to them after all their +ingenuity and all their endeavours--just at a moment when they could +demand and obtain what terms they liked from Sir Henry to preserve the +secret of the financial combine--came this catastrophe. + +"Felix was a fool to have left his work only half-done," he remarked +aloud, as though speaking to himself. + +"What work?" asked the hollow-eyed woman eagerly. But he did not satisfy +her. To explain would only increase her alarm and render her even more +desperate than she was. + +"Did I not tell you often that, from her, we had all to fear?" cried the +woman frantically. "But you would not listen. And now I am--I'm face to +face with the inevitable. Disaster is before me. No power can avert it. +The girl will have a bitter and terrible revenge." + +"No," he cried quickly, with fierce determination. "No, I'll save you, +Winnie. The girl shall not speak. I'll go up to Glencardine to-night and +face it out. You will come with me." + +"I!" gasped the shrinking woman. "Ah, no. I--I couldn't. I dare not face +him. You know too well I dare not!" + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +DISCLOSES A SECRET + +The grey mists were still hanging upon the hills of Glencardine, +although it was already midday, for it had rained all night, and +everywhere was damp and chilly. + +Gabrielle, in her short tweed skirt, golf-cape, and motor-cap, had +strolled, with Walter Murie at her side, from the house along the +winding path to the old castle. From the contented expression upon her +pale, refined countenance, it was plain that happiness, to a great +extent, had been restored to her. + +When he had gone to Woodnewton it was to fetch her back to Glencardine. +He had asked for an explanation, it was true; but when she had refused +one he had not pressed it. That he was puzzled, sorely puzzled, was +apparent. + +At first, Sir Henry had point-blank refused to receive his daughter. But +on hearing her appealing voice he had to some extent relented; and, +though strained relations still existed between them, yet happiness had +come to her in the knowledge that Walter's affection was still as strong +as ever. + +Young Murie had, of course, heard from his mother the story told by Lady +Heyburn concerning the offence of her stepdaughter. But he would not +believe a single word against her. + +They had been strolling slowly, and she had been speaking expressing her +heartfelt thanks for his action in taking her from that life of awful +monotony at Woodnewton. Then he, on his part, had pressed her soft hand +and repeated his promise of lifelong love. + +They had entered the old grass-grown courtyard of the castle, when +suddenly she exclaimed, "How I wish, Walter, that we might elucidate the +secret of the Whispers!" + +"It certainly would be intensely interesting if we could," he said, "The +most curious thing is that my old friend Edgar Hamilton, who is +secretary to the well-known Baron Conrad de Hetzendorf, tells me that a +similar legend is current in connection with the old chateau in Hungary. +He had heard the Whispers himself." + +"Most remarkable!" she exclaimed, gazing blankly around at the ponderous +walls about her. + +"My idea always has been that beneath where we are standing there must +be a chamber, for most mediaeval castles had a subterranean dungeon +beneath the courtyard." + +"Ah, if we could only find entrance to it!" cried the girl +enthusiastically. "Shall we try?" + +"Have you not often tried, and failed?" he asked laughingly. + +"Yes, but let's search again," she urged. "My strong belief is that +entrance is not to be obtained from this side, but from the glen down +below." + +"Yes, no doubt in the ages long ago the hill was much steeper than it +now is, and there were no trees or undergrowth. On that side it was +impregnable. The river, however, in receding, silted up much earth and +boulders at the bend, and has made the ascent possible." + +Together they went to a breach in the ponderous walls and peered down +into the ancient river-bed, now but a rippling burn. + +"Very well," replied Murie, "let us descend and explore." + +So they retraced their steps until, when about half-way to the house, +they left the path and went down to the bottom of the beautiful glen +until they were immediately beneath the old castle. + +The spot was remote and seldom visited. Few ever came there, for it was +approached by no path on that side of the burn, so that the keepers +always passed along the opposite bank. They had no necessity to +penetrate there. Besides, it was too near the house. + +Through the bracken and undergrowth, passing by big trees that in the +ages had sprung up from seedlings dropped by the birds or sown by the +winds, they slowly ascended to the frowning walls far above--the walls +that had withstood so many sieges and the ravages of so many centuries. + +Half a dozen times the girl's skirt became entangled in the briars, and +once she tore her cape upon some thorns. But, enjoying the adventure, +she went on, Walter going first and clearing a way for her as best he +could. + +"Nobody has ever been up here before, I'm quite certain," Gabrielle +cried, halting, breathless, for a moment. "Old Stewart, who says he +knows every inch of the estate, has never climbed here, I'm sure." + +"I don't expect he has," declared her lover. + +At last they found themselves beneath the foundations of one of the +flanking-towers of the castle walls, whereupon he suggested that if they +followed the wall right along and examined it closely they might +discover some entrance. + +"I somehow fear there will not be any door on the exposed side," he +added. + +The base of the walls was all along hidden by thick undergrowth, +therefore the examination proved extremely difficult. Nevertheless, +keenly interested in their exploration, the pair kept on struggling and +climbing until the perspiration rolled off both their faces. + +Suddenly, Walter uttered a cry of surprise. "Why, look here! This seems +like a track. People _have_ been up here after all!" + +And his companion saw that from the burn below, up through the bushes, +ran a narrow winding path, which showed little sign of frequent use. + +Walter went on before her, quickly following the path until it turned at +right-angles and ended before a low door of rough wood which filled a +small breach in the wall--a breach made, in all probability, at the last +siege in the early seventeenth century. + +"This must lead somewhere!" cried Walter excitedly; and, lifting the +roughly constructed wooden latch, he pushed the door open, disclosing a +cavernous darkness. + +A dank, earthy smell greeted their nostrils. It was certainly an uncanny +place. + +"By Jove!" cried Walter, "I wonder where this leads to?" And, taking out +his vestas, he struck one, and, holding it before him, went forward, +passing through the breach in the broken wall into a stone passage which +led to the left for a few yards and gave entrance to exactly what +Gabrielle had expected--a small, windowless stone chamber probably used +in olden days as a dungeon. + +Here they found, to their surprise, several old chairs, a rough table +formed of two deal planks upon trestles, and a couple of half-burned +candles in candlesticks which Gabrielle recognised as belonging to the +house. These were lit, and by their aid the place was thoroughly +examined. + +Upon the floor was a heap of black tinder where some papers had been +burnt weeks or perhaps months ago. There were cigar-ends lying about, +showing that whoever had been there had taken his ease. + +In a niche was a small tin box containing matches and fresh candles, +while in a corner lay an old newspaper, limp and damp, bearing a date +six months before. On the floor, too, were a number of pieces of +paper--a letter torn to fragments. + +They tried to piece it together, laying it upon the table carefully, but +were unsuccessful in discovering its import, save that it was in +Russian, from somebody in Odessa, and addressed to Sir Henry. + +Carrying the candles in their hands, they went into the narrow passage +to explore the subterranean regions of the old place. But neither way +could they proceed far, for the passage had fallen in at both ends and +was blocked by rubbish. The only exit or entrance was by that narrow +breach in the walls so cunningly concealed by the undergrowth and closed +by the rudely made door of planks nailed together. Above, in the stone +roof of the chamber, there was a wide crack running obliquely, and +through which any sound could be heard in the courtyard above. + +They remained in the narrow, low-roofed little cell for a full +half-hour, making careful examination of everything, and discussing the +probability of the Whispers heard in the courtyard above emanating from +that hidden chamber. + +For what purpose was the place used, and by whom? In all probability it +was the very chamber in which Cardinal Setoun had been treacherously +done to death. + +Though they made a most minute investigation they discovered nothing +further. Up to a certain point their explorations had been crowned by +success, yet the discovery rather tended to increase the mystery than +diminish it. + +That the Whispers were supernatural Gabrielle had all along refused to +believe. The question was, to what use that secret chamber was put? + +At last, more puzzled than ever, the pair, having extinguished the +candles, emerged again into the light of day, closing and latching the +little door after them. + +Then, following the narrow secret path, they found that it wound through +the bushes, and emerged by a circuitous way some distance along the +glen, its entrance being carefully concealed by a big lichen-covered +boulder which hid it from any one straying there by accident. So near +was it to the house, and so well concealed, that no keeper had ever +discovered it. + +"Well," declared Gabrielle, "we've certainly made a most interesting +discovery this morning. But I wonder if it really does solve the mystery +of the Whispers?" + +"Scarcely," Walter admitted. "We have yet to discover to whom the secret +of the existence of that chamber is known. No doubt the Whispers are +heard above through the crack in the roof. Therefore, at present, we had +better keep our knowledge strictly to ourselves." + +And to this the girl, of course, agreed. + +They found Sir Henry seated alone in the sunshine in one of the big +bay-windows of the drawing-room, a pathetic figure, with his blank, +bespectacled countenance turned towards the light, and his fingers +busily knitting to employ the time which, alas! hung so heavily upon his +hands. + +Truth to tell, with Flockart's influence upon him, he was not quite +convinced of the sincerity of either Gabrielle or Walter Murie. +Therefore, when they entered, and his daughter spoke to him; his +greeting was not altogether cordial. + +"Why, dear dad, how is it you're sitting here all alone? I would have +gone for a walk with you had I known." + +"I'm expecting Goslin," was the old man's snappy reply. "He left Paris +yesterday, and should certainly have been here by this time. I can't +make out why he hasn't sent me a 'wire' explaining the delay." + +"He may have lost his connection in London," Murie suggested. + +"Perhaps so," remarked the Baronet with a sigh, his fingers moving +mechanically. + +Murie could see that he was unnerved and unlike himself. He, of course, +was unaware of the great interests depending upon the theft of those +papers from his safe. But the old man was anxious to hear from Goslin +what had occurred at the urgent meeting of the secret syndicate in +Paris. + +Gabrielle was chatting gaily with her father in an endeavour to cheer +him up, when suddenly the door opened, and Flockart, still in his +travelling ulster, entered, exclaiming, "Good-morning, Sir Henry." + +"Why, my dear Flockart, this is really quite unexpected. I--I thought +you were abroad," cried the Baronet, his face brightening as he +stretched out his hand for his visitor to grasp. + +"So I have been. I only got back to town yesterday morning, and left +Euston last night." + +"Well," said Sir Henry, "I'm very glad you are here again. I've missed +you very much--very much indeed. I hope you'll make another long stay +with us at Glencardine." + +The man addressed raised his eyes to Gabrielle's. + +She looked him straight in the face, defiant and unflinching. The day of +her self-sacrifice to protect her helpless father's honour and welfare +had come. She had suffered much in silence--suffered as no other girl +would suffer; but she had tried to conceal the bitter truth. Her spirit +had been broken. She was obsessed by one fear, one idea. + +For a moment the girl held her breath. Walter saw the sudden change in +her countenance, and wondered. + +Then, with a calmness that was surprising, she turned to her father, and +in a clear, distinct voice said, "Dad, now that Mr. Flockart has +returned, I wish to tell you the truth concerning him--to warn you that +he is not your friend, but your very worst enemy!" + +"What is that you say?" cried the man accused, glaring at her. "Repeat +those words, and I will tell the whole truth about yourself--here, +before your lover!" + +The blind man frowned. He hated scenes. "Come, come," he urged, "please +do not quarrel. Gabrielle, I think, dear, your words are scarcely fair +to our friend." + +"Father," she said firmly, her face pale as death, "I repeat them. That +man standing there is as much your enemy as he is mine!" + +Flockart laughed satirically. "Then I will tell my story, and let your +father judge whether you are a worthy daughter," he said. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +IN WHICH GABRIELLE TELLS A STRANGE STORY + +Gabrielle fell back in fear. Her handsome countenance was blanched to +the lips. This man intended to speak--to tell the terrible truth--and +before her lover too! She clenched her hands and summoned all her +courage. + +Flockart laughed at her--laughed in triumph. "I think, Gabrielle," he +said, "that you should put an end to this deceit towards your poor blind +father." + +"What do you mean?" cried Walter in a fury, advancing towards Flockart. +"What has this question--whatever it is--to do with you? Is it your +place to stand between father and daughter?" + +"Yes," answered the other in cool defiance, "it is. I am Sir Henry's +friend." + +"His friend! His enemy!" + +"You are not my father's friend, Mr. Flockart," declared the girl, +noticing the look of pain upon the afflicted old gentleman's face. "You +have all along conspired against him for years, and you are actually +conspiring with Lady Heyburn at this moment." + +"You lie!" he cried. "You say this in order to shield yourself. You know +that your mother and I are aware of your crime, and have always shielded +you." + +"Crime!" gasped Walter Murie, utterly amazed. "What is this man saying, +dearest?" + +But the girl stood, blanched and rigid, her jaw set, unable to utter a +word. + +"Let me tell you briefly," Flockart went on. "Lady Heyburn and myself +have been this girl's best friends; but now I must speak openly, in +defence of the allegation she is making against me." + +"Yes, speak!" urged Sir Henry. "Speak and tell me the truth." + +"It is a painful truth, Sir Henry; would that I were not compelled to +make such a charge. Your daughter deliberately killed a young girl named +Edna Bryant. She poisoned her on account of jealousy." + +"Impossible!" cried Sir Henry, starting up. "I--I can't believe it, +Flockart. What are you saying? My daughter a murderess!" + +"Yes, I repeat my words. And not only that, but Lady Heyburn and myself +have kept her secret until--until now it is imperative that the truth +should be told to you." + +"Let me speak, dad--let me tell you----" + +"No," cried the old man, "I will hear Flockart." And, turning to his +wife's friend, he said hoarsely, "Go on. Tell me the truth." + +"The tragedy took place at a picnic, just before Gabrielle left her +school at Amiens. She placed poison in the girl's wine. Ah, it was a +terrible revenge!" + +"I am innocent!" cried the girl in despair. + +"Remember the letter which you wrote to your mother concerning her. You +told Lady Heyburn that you hated her. Do you deny writing that letter? +Because, if you do, it is still in existence." + +"I deny nothing which I have done," she answered. "You have told my +father this in order to shield yourself. You have endeavoured, as the +coward you are, to prejudice me in his eyes, just as you compelled me to +lie to him when you opened his safe and copied certain of his papers!" + +"You opened the safe!" he protested. "Why, I found you there myself!" + +"Enough!" she exclaimed quite coolly. "I know the dread charge against +me. I know too well the impossibility of clearing myself, especially in +the face of that letter I wrote to Lady Heyburn; but it was you and she +who entrapped me, and who held me in fear because of my inexperience." + +"Tell us the truth, the whole truth, darling," urged Murie, standing at +her side and taking her hand confidently in his. + +"The truth!" she said, in a strange voice as though speaking to herself. +"Yes, let me tell you! I know that it will sound extraordinary, yet I +swear to you, by the love you bear for me, Walter, that the words I am +about to utter are the actual truth." + +"I believe you," declared her lover reassuringly. + +"Which is more than anyone else will," interposed Flockart with a sneer, +but perfectly confident. It was the hour of his triumph. She had defied +him, and he therefore intended to ruin her once and for all. + +The girl was standing pale and erect, one hand grasping the back of a +chair, the other held in her lover's clasp, while her father had risen, +his expressionless face turned towards them, his hand groping until it +touched a small table upon which stood an old punch-bowl full of +sweet-smelling pot-pourri. + +"Listen, dad," she said, heedless of Flockart's remark. "Hear me before +you condemn me. I know that the charge made against me by this man is a +terrible one. God alone knows what I have suffered these last two years, +how I have prayed for deliverance from the hands of this man and his +friends. It happened a few months before I left Amiens. Lady Heyburn, +you'll recollect, rented a pretty flat in the Rue Leonce-Reynaud in +Paris. She obtained permission for me to leave school and visit her for +a few weeks." + +"I recollect perfectly," remarked her father in a low voice. + +"Well, there came many times to visit us an American girl named Bryant, +who was studying art, and who lived somewhere off the Boulevard Michel, +as well as a Frenchman named Felix Krail and an Englishman called +Hamilton." + +"Hamilton!" echoed Murie. "Was his name Edgar Hamilton--my friend?" + +"Yes, the same," was her quiet reply. Then she turned to Murie, and +said, "We all went about a great deal together, for it was summer-time, +and we made many pleasant excursions in the district. Edna Bryant was a +merry, cheerful girl, and I soon grew to be very friendly with her, +until one day Lady Heyburn, when alone with me, repeated in strict +confidence that the girl was secretly devoted to you, Walter." + +"To me!" he cried. "True, I knew a Miss Bryant long ago, but for the +past three years or so have entirely lost sight of her." + +"Lady Heyburn told me that you were very fond of the girl, and this, I +confess, aroused my intense jealousy. I believed that the girl I had +trusted so implicitly was unprincipled and fickle, and that she was +trying to secure the man whom I had loved ever since a child. I had to +return to school, and from there I wrote to Lady Heyburn, who had gone +to Dieppe, a letter saying hard things of the girl, and declaring that I +would take secret revenge--that I would kill her rather than allow +Walter to be taken from me. A month afterwards I again returned to +Paris. That man standing there"--she indicated Flockart--"was living at +the Hotel Continental, and was a frequent visitor. He told me that it +was well known in London that Walter admired Miss Bryant, a declaration +that I admit drove me half-mad with jealousy." + +"It was a lie!" declared Walter. "I never made love to the girl. I +admired her, that's all." + +"Well," laughed Flockart, "go on. Tell us your version of the affair." + +"I am telling you the truth," she cried, boldly facing him. One day Lady +Heyburn, having arranged a cycling picnic, invited Mr. Hamilton, Mr. +Kratil, Mr. Flockart, Miss Bryant, and myself, and we had a beautiful +run to Chantilly, a distance of about forty kilometres, where we first +made a tour of the old chateau, and afterwards entered the cool shady +Foret de Pontarme. While the others went away to explore the paths in +the splendid wood I was left to spread the luncheon upon the ground, +setting before each place a half-bottle of red wine which I found in the +baskets. Then, when all was ready, I called to them, but there was no +response. They were all out of hearing. I left the spot, and searched +for a full twenty minutes or so before I discovered them. First I found +Mr. Krail and Mr. Flockart strolling together smoking, while the others +were on ahead. They had lost their way among the trees. I led them back +to the spot where luncheon was prepared; and, all of us being hungry, we +quickly sat down, chatting and laughing merrily. Of a sudden Miss Bryant +stared straight before her, dropped her glass, and threw up her arms. +'Heavens! Why--ah, my throat!' she shrieked. 'I--I'm poisoned!' + +"In an instant all was confusion. The poor girl could not breathe. She +tore at her throat, while her face became convulsed. We obtained water +for her, but it was useless, for within five minutes she was stretched +rigid upon the grass, unconscious, and a few moments later she was +still--quite dead! Ah, shall I ever forget the scene! The effect +produced upon us was appalling. All was so sudden, so tragic, so +horrible! + +"Lady Heyburn was the first to speak. 'Gabrielle,' she said, 'what have +you done? You have carried out the secret revenge which in your letter +you threatened!' I saw myself trapped. Those people had some motive in +killing the girl and placing this crime upon myself! I could not speak, +for I was too utterly dumfounded." + +"The fiends!" ejaculated Walter fiercely. + +"Then followed a hurried consultation, in which Krail showed himself +most solicitous on my behalf," the pale-faced girl went on. "Aided by +Flockart, I think, he scraped away a hole in a pit full of dead leaves, +and there the body must have been concealed just as it was. To me they +all took a solemn vow to keep what they declared to be my secret. The +bottle containing the wine from which the poor American girl had drunk +was broken and hidden, the plates and food swiftly packed up, and we at +once fled from the scene of the tragedy. With Krail wheeling the girl's +empty cycle, we reached the high road, where we all mounted and rode +back in silence to Paris. Ah, shall I ever rid myself of the memory of +that fatal afternoon?" she cried as she paused for breath. + +"Fearing that he might be noticed taking along the empty cycle, Krail +threw it into the river near Valmondois," she went on. "Arrived back at +the Rue Leonce-Reynaud, I protested that nothing had been introduced +into the wine. But they declared that, owing to my youth and the +terrible scandal it would cause if I were arrested, they would never +allow the matter to pass their lips, Mr. Hamilton, indeed, making the +extraordinary declaration that such a crime had extenuating +circumstances when love was at stake. I then saw that I had fallen the +victim of some clever conspiracy; but so utterly overcome was I by the +awful scene that I could make but faint protest. + +"Ah! think of my horrible position--accused of a crime of which I was +entirely innocent! The days slipped on, and I was sent back to Amiens, +and in due course came home here to dear old Glencardine. From that day +I have lived in constant fear, until on the night of the ball at +Connachan--you remember the evening, dad?--on that night Mr. Flockart +returned in secret, beckoned me out upon the lawn, and showed me +something which held me petrified in fear. It was a cutting from an +Edinburgh paper that evening reporting that two of the forest-guards at +Pontarme had discovered the body of the missing Miss Bryant, and that +the French police were making active inquiries." + +"He threatened you?" asked Walter. + +"He told me to remain quiet, and that he and Lady Heyburn would do their +best to shield me. For that reason, dad," she went on, turning to the +blind man, "for that reason I feared to denounce him when I discovered +him with your safe open, for that reason I was compelled to take all the +blame and all your anger upon myself." + +The old man's brow knit. "Where is my wife?" he asked. "I must speak to +her before we go further. This is a very serious matter." + +"Lady Heyburn is still at Park Street," Flockart replied. + +"I will hear no more," declared the blind Baronet, holding up his hand, +"not another word until my wife is present." + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +INCREASES THE INTEREST + +"But, dad," cried Gabrielle, "I am telling you the truth! Cannot you +believe me, your daughter, before this man who is your enemy?" + +"Because of my affliction I am, it seems, deceived by every one," was +his hard response. + +To where they stood had come the sound of wheels upon the gravelled +drive outside, and a moment later Hill entered, announcing, "A gentleman +to see you very urgently, Sir Henry. He is from Baron de Hetzendorf." + +"From the Baron!" gasped the blind man. "I'll see him later." + +"Why, it may be Hamilton!" cried Murie; who, looking through the door, +saw his old friend in the corridor, and quickly called him in. + +As he faced Flockart he drew himself up. The attitude of them all made +it apparent to him that something unusual was in progress. + +"You've arrived at a very opportune moment, Hamilton," Murie said. "You +have met Miss Heyburn before, and also Flockart, I believe, at Lady +Heyburn's, in Paris." + +"Yes, but----" + +"Sir Henry," Walter said in a quiet tone, "this gentleman sent by the +Baron is his secretary, the same Mr. Edgar Hamilton of whom Gabrielle +has just been speaking." + +"Ah, then, perhaps he can furnish us with further facts regarding this +most extraordinary statement of my daughter's," the blind man exclaimed. + +"Gabrielle has just told her father the truth regarding a certain tragic +occurrence in the Forest of Pontarme. Explain to us all you know, +Edgar." + +"What I know," said Hamilton, "is very quickly told. Has Miss Heyburn +mentioned the man Krail?" + +"Yes, I have told them about him," the girl answered. + +"You have, however, perhaps omitted to mention one or two small facts in +connection with the affair," he said. "Do you not remember how, on that +eventful afternoon in the forest, when searching for us, you first +encountered Krail walking with this man Flockart at some distance from +the others?" + +"Yes, I recollect." + +"And do you remember that when we returned to sit down to luncheon +Flockart insisted that I should take the seat which was afterwards +occupied by the unfortunate Miss Bryant? Do you recollect how I spread a +rug for her at that spot and preferred myself to stand? The reason of +their invitation to me to sit there I did not discover until afterwards. +That wine had been prepared for _me_, not for her." + +"For you!" the girl gasped, amazed. + +"Yes. The plot was undoubtedly this--" + +"There was no plot," protested Flockart, interrupting. "This girl killed +Edna Bryant through intense jealousy." + +"I repeat that there was a foul and ingenious plot to kill me, and to +entrap Miss Heyburn," Hamilton said. "It was, of course, clear that Miss +Heyburn was jealous of the girl, for she had written to her mother +making threats against Miss Bryant's life. Therefore, the plot was that +I should drink the fatal wine, and that Miss Gabrielle should be +declared to be the murderess, she having intended the wine to be +partaken of by the girl she hated with such deadly hatred. The marked +cordiality of Krail and Flockart that I should take that seat aroused +within me some misgivings, although I had never dreamed of this +dastardly and cowardly plot against me--not until I saw the result of +their foul handiwork." + +"It's a lie! You are trying to implicate Krail and myself! The girl is +the only guilty person. She placed the wine there!" + +"She did not!" declared Hamilton boldly. "She was not there when the +bottle was changed by Krail, but I was!" + +"If what you say is true, then you deliberately stood by and allowed the +girl to drink." + +"I watched Krail go to the spot where luncheon was laid out, but could +not see what he did. If I had done so I should have saved the girl's +life. You were a few yards off, awaiting him; therefore you knew his +intentions, and you are as guilty of that girl's tragic death as he." + +"What!" cried Flockart, his eyes glaring angrily, "do you declare, then, +that I am a murderer?" + +"You yourself are the best judge of your own guilt," answered Hamilton +meaningly. + +"I deny that Krail or myself had any hand in the affair." + +"You will have an opportunity of making that denial in a criminal court +ere long," remarked the Baron's secretary with a grim smile. + +"What," gasped Lady Heyburn's friend, his cheeks paling in an instant, +"have you been so indiscreet as to inform the police?" + +"I have--a week ago. I made a statement to M. Hamard of the Surete in +Paris, and they have already made a discovery which you will find of +interest and somewhat difficult to disprove." + +"And pray what is that?" + +Hamilton smiled again, saying, "No, my dear sir, the police will tell +you themselves all in due course. Remember, you and your precious friend +plotted to kill me." + +"But why, Mr. Hamilton?" inquired the blind man. "What was their +motive?" + +"A very strong one," was the reply. "I had recognised in Krail a man who +had defrauded the Baron de Hetzendorf of fifty thousand kroners, and for +whom the police were in active search, both for that and for several +other serious charges of a similar character. Krail knew this, and he +and his friend--this gentleman here--had very ingeniously resolved to +get rid of me by making it appear that Miss Gabrielle had poisoned me by +accident." + +"A lie!" declared Flockart fiercely, though his efforts to remain +imperturbed were now palpable. + +"You will be given due opportunity of disproving my allegations," +Hamilton said. "You, coward that you are, placed the guilt upon an +innocent, inexperienced girl. Why? Because, with Lady Heyburn's +connivance, you with your cunning accomplice Krail were endeavouring to +discover Sir Henry's business secrets in order, first, to operate upon +the valuable financial knowledge you would thus gain, and so make a big +_coup_; and, secondly, when you had done this, it was your intention to +expose the methods of Sir Henry and his friends. Ah! don't imagine that +you and Krail have not been very well watched of late," laughed +Hamilton. + +"Do you allege, then, that Lady Heyburn is privy to all this?" asked the +blind man in distress. + +"It is not for me to judge, sir," was Hamilton's reply. + +"I know! I know how I have been befooled!" cried the poor helpless man, +"befooled because I am blind!" + +"Not by me, Sir Henry," protested Flockart. + +"By you and by every one else," he cried angrily. "But I know the truth +at last--the truth how my poor little daughter has been used as an +instrument by you in your nefarious operations." + +"But----" + +"Hear me, I say!" went on the old man. "I ask my daughter to forgive me +for misjudging her. I now know the truth. You obtained by some means a +false key to my safe, and you copied certain documents which I had +placed there in order to entrap any who might seek to learn my secrets. +You fell into that trap, and though I confess I thought that Gabrielle +was the culprit, on Murie's behalf, I only lately found out that you and +your accomplice Krail were in Greece endeavouring to profit by knowledge +obtained from here, my private house." + +"Krail has been living in Auchterarder of late, it appears," Hamilton +remarked, "and it is evidently he who, gaining access to the house one +night recently, used his friend's false key, and obtained those +confidential Russian documents from your safe." + +"No doubt," declared Sir Henry. Then, again addressing Flockart, he +asked, "Where are those documents which you and your scoundrelly +accomplice have stolen, and for the return of which you are trying to +make me pay?" + +"I don't know anything about them," answered Flockart sullenly, his face +livid. + +"He'll know more about them when he is taken off by the two detectives +from Edinburgh who hold the extradition warrant," Hamilton remarked with +a grim smile. + +The fellow started at those words. His demeanour was that of a guilty +man. "What do you mean?" he gasped, white as death. "You--you intend to +give me into custody? If you do, I warn you that Lady Heyburn will +suffer also." + +"She, like Miss Gabrielle, has only been your tool," Hamilton declared. +"It was she who, under compulsion, has furnished you with means for +years, and whose association with you has caused something little short +of a scandal. Times without number she has tried to get rid of you and +your evil influence in this household, but you have always defied her. +Now," he said firmly, looking the other straight in the face, "you have +upon you those stolen documents which you have, by using an assumed name +and a false address, offered to sell back to their owner, Sir Henry. You +have threatened that if they are not purchased at the exorbitant price +you demand you will sell them to the Russian Ministry of Finance. That +is the way you treat your friend and benefactor, the man who is blind +and helpless! Come, give them back to Sir Henry, and at once." + +"You must ask Krail," stammered the man, now so cornered that all +further excuse or denial had become impossible. + +"That's unnecessary. I happen to know that those papers are in your +pocket at this moment, a fact which shows how watchful an eye we've been +keeping upon you of late. You have brought them here so that your friend +Krail may come to terms with Sir Henry for their repossession. He +arrived from London with you, and is at the 'Strathavon Arms' in the +village, where he stayed before, and is well known." + +"Flockart," demanded the blind man very seriously, "you have papers in +your possession which are mine. Return them to me." + +A dead silence fell. All eyes save those of Sir Henry were turned upon +the man who until that moment had stood so defiant and so full of +sarcasm. But in an instant, at mention of Krail's presence in +Auchterarder, his demeanour had suddenly changed. He was full of alarm. + +"Give them to me and leave my house," Sir Henry said, holding up his +thin white hand. + +"I--I will--on one condition: if I may be allowed to go." + +"We shall not prevent you leaving," was the Baronet's calm reply. + +The man fumbled nervously in the inner pocket of his coat, and at last +brought out a sealed and rather bulgy foolscap envelope. + +"Open it, Gabrielle, and see what is within," her father said. + +She obeyed, and in a few moments explained the various documents it +contained. + +"Then let the man go," her father said. + +"But, Sir Henry," cried Hamilton, "I object to this! Krail is down in +the village forming a plot to make you pay for the return of those +papers. He arrived from London by the same train as this man. If we +allow him to leave he will inform his accomplice, and both will escape." + +Murie had his back to the door, the long window on the opposite side of +the room being closed. + +"It was a promise of Sir Henry's," declared the unhappy adventurer. + +"Which will be observed when Krail has been brought face to face with +Sir Henry," answered Murie, at the same time calling Hill and one of the +gardeners who chanced to be working on the lawn outside. + +Then, with a firmness which showed that they were determined, Hamilton +and Murie conducted Flockart to a small upstairs room, where Hill and +the gardener, with the assistance of Stewart, who happened to have come +into the kitchen, mounted guard over him. + +His position, once the honoured guest at Glencardine, was the most +ignominious conceivable. But Sir Henry sat in gratification that at +least he had got back those documents and saved the reputation of his +friend Volkonski, as well as that of his co-partners. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +"THAT MAN'S VOICE!" + +Stokes the chauffeur had driven Murie and Hamilton in the car down to +the village, where the last-named, after a conversation with the police +inspector, went to the "Strathavon Arms," together with two constables +who happened to be off duty, in plain clothes. + +They found Krail sitting in the bar, calmly smoking, awaiting a message +from his accomplice. + +Upon Hamilton's recognition he was, after a brief argument, arrested on +the charge of theft from Glencardine, placed in the car between the two +stalwart Scotch policemen, and conveyed in triumph to the castle, much, +of course, against his will. He demanded to be taken straight to the +police station; but as Sir Henry had ordered him to be brought to +Glencardine, and as Sir Henry was a magistrate, the inspector was bound +to obey his orders. + +The man's cruel, colourless eyes seemed to contract closer as he sat in +the car with his enemy Hamilton facing him. He had never dreamed that +they would ever meet again; but, now they had, he saw that the game was +up. There was no hope of escape. He was being taken to meet Sir Henry +Heyburn, the very last man in all the world he wished to face. His +sallow countenance was drawn, his lips were thin and bloodless, and upon +his cheeks were two red spots which showed that he was now in a deadly +terror. + +Gabrielle, who had been weeping at the knees of her father, heard the +whirr of the car coming up the drive; and, springing to the window, +witnessed the arrival of the party. + +A moment later, Krail, between the two constables, and with the local +inspector standing respectfully at the rear, stood in the big, long +library into which the blind man was led by his daughter. + +When all had assembled, Sir Henry, in a clear, distinct voice, said, "I +have had you arrested and brought here in order to charge you with +stealing certain documents from my safe yonder, which you opened by +means of a duplicate key. Your accomplice Flockart has given evidence +against you; therefore, to deny it is quite needless." + +"Whatever he has said to you is lies," the foreigner replied, his accent +being the more pronounced in his excitement. "I know nothing about it." + +"If you deny that," exclaimed Hamilton quickly, "you will perhaps also +deny that it was you who secretly poisoned Miss Bryant in the Pontarme +Forest, even though I myself saw you at the spot; and, further, that a +witness has been found who actually saw you substitute the wine-bottles. +You intended to kill me!" + +"What ridiculous nonsense you are talking!" cried the accused, who was +dressed with his habitual shabby gentility. "The girl yonder, +mademoiselle, killed Miss Bryant." + +"Then why did you make that deliberate attempt upon my life at +Fotheringhay?" demanded the girl boldly. "Had it not been for Mr. +Hamilton, who must have seen us together and guessed that you intended +foul play, I should certainly have been drowned." + +"He believed that you knew his secret, and he intended, both on his own +behalf and on Flockart's also, to close your lips," Murie said. "With +you out of the way, their attitude towards your father would have been +easier; but with you still a living witness there was always danger to +them. He thought your death would be believed to be suicide, for he knew +your despondent state of mind." + +Sir Henry stood near the window, his face sphinx-like, as though turned +to stone. + +"She fell in," was his lame excuse. + +"No, you threw me in!" declared the girl. "But I have feared you until +now, and I therefore dared not to give information against you. Ah, God +alone knows how I have suffered!" + +"You dare now, eh?" he snarled, turning quickly upon her. + +"It really does not matter what you deny or what you admit," Hamilton +remarked. "The French authorities have applied for your extradition to +France, and this evening you will be on your way to the extradition +court at Bow Street, charged with a graver offence than the burglary at +this house. The Surete of Paris make several interesting allegations +against you--or against Felix Gerlach, which is your real name." + +"Gerlach!" cried the blind man in a loud voice, groping forward. "Ah," +he shrieked, "then I was not mistaken when--when I thought I recognised +the voice! That man's voice! _Yes, it is his--his!_" + +In an instant Krail had sprung forward towards the blind and defenceless +man, but his captors were fortunately too quick and prevented him. Then, +at the inspector's orders, a pair of steel bracelets were quickly placed +upon his wrists. + +"Gerlach! Felix Gerlach!" repeated the blind Baronet as though to +himself, as he heard the snap of the lock upon the prisoner's wrists. + +The fellow burst out into a peal of harsh, discordant laughter. He was +endeavouring to retain a defiant attitude even then. + +"You apparently know this man, dad?" Gabrielle exclaimed in surprise. + +"Know him!" echoed her father hoarsely. "Know Felix Gerlach! Yes, I have +bitter cause to remember the man who stands there before you accused of +the crime of murder." + +Then he paused, and drew a long breath. + +"I unmasked him once, as a thief and a swindler, and he swore to be +avenged," said the Baronet in a bitter voice. "It was long ago. He came +to me in London and offered me a concession which he said he had +obtained from the Ottoman Government for the construction of a railroad +from Smyrna to the Bosphorus. The documents appeared to be all right and +in order, and after some negotiations he sold the concession to me and +received ten thousand pounds in cash of the purchase-money in advance. A +week afterwards I discovered that, though the concession had been +granted by the Minister of Public Works at the Sublime Porte, it had +been sold to the Eckmann Group in Vienna, and that the papers I held +were merely copies with forged signatures and stamps. I applied to the +police, this man was arrested in Hamburg, and brought back to London, +where he was tried, and, a previous conviction having been proved +against him, sent to penal servitude for seven years. In the dock at the +Old Bailey he swore to be avenged upon me and upon my family." + +"And he seems to have kept his word," Walter remarked. + +"When he came out of prison he found me in the zenith of my political +career," Sir Henry went on. "On that well-remembered night of my speech +at the Albert Hall I can only surmise that he went there, heard me, and +probably became fiercely resentful that he had found a man cleverer than +himself. The fact remains that he must have gone in a cab in front of my +carriage to Park Street, alighted before me, and secreted himself within +the portico. It was midnight, and the street was deserted. My carriage +stopped, I got out, and it then drove on to the mews. I was in the act +of opening the door with my latch-key when, by an unknown hand, there +was flung full into my eyes some corrosive fluid which burned terribly, +and caused me excruciating pain. I heard a man's exultant voice cry, +'There! I promised you that, and you have it!' The voice I recognised as +that of the blackguard standing before you. Since that moment," he added +in a blank, hoarse voice, "I have been totally blind!" + +"You got me seven years!" cried the foreigner with a harsh laugh, "so +think yourself very lucky that I didn't kill you." + +"You placed upon me an affliction, a perpetual darkness, that to a man +like myself is almost akin to death," replied his accuser very gravely. +"Secure from recognition, you wormed yourself into the confidence of my +wife, for you were bent upon ruining her also; and you took as partner +in your schemes that needy adventurer Flockart. I now see it all quite +plainly. Hamilton had recognised you as Gerlach, and you therefore +formed a plot to get rid of him and throw the crime upon my poor +unfortunate daughter, even though she was scarcely more than a child. In +all probability, Lady Heyburn, in telling the girl the story regarding +Murie and Miss Bryant, believed it, and if so she would also suspect my +daughter to be the actual criminal." + +"This is all utterly astounding, dad!" cried Gabrielle. "If you knew who +it was who deliberately blinded you, why didn't you prosecute him?" + +"Because there was no witness of his dastardly act, my child. And I +myself never saw him. Therefore I was compelled to remain in silence, +and allow the world to believe my affliction due to natural causes," was +his blank response. + +The sallow-faced foreigner laughed again, laughed in the face of the man +whose eyesight he had so deliberately taken. He could not speak. What +had he to say? + +"Well," remarked Hamilton, "we have at least the satisfaction of knowing +that both this man and his accomplice will stand their trial for their +heartless crime in France, and that they will meet their just punishment +according to the laws of God and of man." + +"And I," added Walter, in a voice broken by emotion, as he again took +Gabrielle's hand tenderly, "have the supreme satisfaction of knowing +that my darling is cleared of a foul, dastardly, and terrible charge." + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +CONTAINS THE CONCLUSION + +After long consultation--Krail having been removed in custody back to +the village--it was agreed that the only charges that could be +substantiated against Flockart were those of complicity in the ingenious +attempt upon Hamilton's life by which poor Miss Bryant had been +sacrificed, and also in the theft of Sir Henry's papers. + +But was it worth while? + +At the Baronet's suggestion, he was allowed freedom to leave the +upstairs room where he had been detained by the three stalwart servants; +and, without waiting to speak to any one, he had made his way down the +drive. He had, as was afterwards found, left Auchterarder Station for +London an hour later. + +The painful impression produced upon everybody by Sir Henry's statement +of what had actually occurred on the night of the great meeting at the +Albert Hall having somewhat subsided, Murie mentioned to the blind man +the legend of the Whispers, and also the curious discovery which +Gabrielle and he had made earlier in the morning. + +"Ah," laughed the old gentleman a trifle uneasily, "and so you've +discovered the truth at last, eh?" + +"The truth--no!" Murie said. "That is just what we are so very anxious +to hear from you, Sir Henry." + +"Well," he said, "you may rest your minds perfectly content that there's +nothing supernatural about them. It was to my own advantage to cause +weird reports and uncanny legends to be spread in order to preserve my +secret, the secret of the Whispers." + +"But what is the secret, Sir Henry?" asked Hamilton eagerly. "We, +curiously enough, have similar Whispers at Hetzendorf. I've heard them +myself at the old chateau." + +"And of course you have believed in the story which my good friend the +Baron has caused to be spread, like myself: the legend that those who +hear them die quickly and suddenly," said the old man, with a smile upon +his grey face. "Like myself, he wished to keep away all inquisitive +persons from the spot." + +"But why?" asked Murie. + +"Well, truth to tell, the reason is very simple," he answered. "As we +are speaking here in the strictest privacy, I will tell you something +which I beg that neither of you will repeat. If you do it might result +in my ruin." + +Murie, Hamilton, and Gabrielle all gave their promise. + +"Then it is this," he said. "I am head of a group of the leading +financial houses in Europe, who, remaining secret, are carrying on +business in the guise of an unimportant house in Paris. The members of +the syndicate are all of them men of enormous financial strength, +including Baron de Hetzendorf, to whom our friend Hamilton here acts as +confidential secretary. The strictest secrecy is necessary for the +success of our great undertakings, which I may add are perfectly honest +and legitimate. Yet never, unless absolutely imperative, do we entrust +documents or letters to the post. Like the house of Rothschild, we have +our confidential messengers, and hold frequent meetings, no 'deal' being +undertaken without we are all of us in full accord. Monsieur Goslin acts +as confidential messenger, and brings me the views of my partners in +Paris, Petersburg, and Vienna. To this careful concealment of our plans, +or of the fact that we are ever in touch with one another, is due the +huge successes we have made from time to time--successes which have +staggered the Bourses of the Continent and caused amazement in Wall +Street. But being unfortunately afflicted as I am, I naturally cannot +travel to meet the others, and, besides, we are compelled always to take +fresh and most elaborate precautions in order to conceal the fact that +we are in connection with each other. If that one fact ever leaked out +it would at once stultify our endeavours and weaken our position. Hence, +at intervals, two or even three of my partners travel here, and I meet +them at night in the little chamber which you, Walter, discovered +to-day, and which until the present has never been found, owing to the +weird fables I have invented regarding the Whispers. To Hetzendorf, too, +once or twice a year, perhaps, the members pay a secret visit in order +to consult the Baron, who, as you perhaps may know, unfortunately enjoys +very precarious health." + +"Then meetings of Frohnmeyer, Volkonski, and the rest were held here in +secret sometimes?" echoed Hamilton in surprise. + +"On certain occasions, when it is absolutely necessary that I should +meet them," answered Sir Henry. "They stay at the Station Hotel in +Perth, coming over to Auchterarder by the last train at night and +leaving by the first train in the morning from Crieff Junction. They +never approach the house, for fear that servants or one or other of the +guests may recognise them, but go separately along the glen and up the +path to the ruins. When we thus meet, our voices can be heard through +the crack in the roof of the chamber in the courtyard above. On such +occasions I take good care that Stewart and his men are sent on a false +alarm of poachers to another part of the estate, while I can find my way +there myself with my stick," he laughed. "The Baron, I believe, acts on +the same principle at his chateau in Hungary." + +"Well," declared Hamilton, "so well has the Baron kept the secret that I +have never had any suspicion until this moment. By Jove! the invention +of the Whispers was certainly a clever mode of preserving the secret, +for nobody cares deliberately to court disaster and death, especially +among a superstitious populace like the villagers here and the Hungarian +peasantry." + +Both Gabrielle and her lover expressed their astonishment, the latter +remarking how cleverly the weird legend of the Whispers invented by Sir +Henry had been made to fit historical fact. + + * * * * * + +When the eight o'clock train from Stirling stopped at Auchterarder +Station that evening, a tall, well-dressed man alighted, and inquired +his way to the police-station. The porter knew by his accent that he was +a Londoner, but did not dream that he was "a gentleman from Scotland +Yard." + +Half an hour later, after a chat with the rural inspector, the pair went +along to the cell behind the small village police-station in order that +the stranger should read over to the prisoner the warrant he had brought +with him from London--the application of the French police for the +arrest and extradition of Felix Gerlach, _alias_ Krail, _alias_ Benoist, +for the wilful murder of Edna Mary Bryant in the Forest of Pontarme, +near Chantilly. + +The inspector had related to the London detective the dramatic scene up +at Glencardine that day, and the officer of the Criminal Investigation +Department walked along to the cell much interested to see what manner +of man was this, who was even more bold and ingenious in his criminal +methods than many with whom his profession brought him daily into +contact. He had hoped that he himself would have the credit of making +the arrest, but found that the man wanted had already been apprehended +on the charge of burglary at Glencardine. + +The inspector unlocked the door and threw it open, but next instant the +startling truth became plain. + +Felix Krail lay dead upon the flagstones. He had taken his life by +poison--probably the same poison he had placed in the wine at the fatal +picnic--rather than face his accuser and bear his just punishment. + + * * * * * + +Many months have now passed. A good deal has occurred since that +never-to-be-forgotten day, but it is all quickly related. + +James Flockart, unmasked as he has been, never dared to return. The last +heard of him was six months ago, in Honduras, where for the first time +in his life he had been compelled to work for his living, and had, three +weeks after landing, succumbed to fever. + +At Sir Henry's urgent request, his wife came back to Glencardine a week +after the tragic end of Gerlach, and was compelled to make full +confession how, under the man's sinister influence, both she and +Flockart had been forced to act. To her husband she proved beyond all +doubt that she had been in complete ignorance of the truth concerning +the affair in the Pontarme Forest until long afterwards. She had at +first believed Gabrielle guilty of the deed, but when she learned the +truth and saw how deeply she had been implicated it was impossible for +her then to withdraw. + +With a whole-hearted generosity seldom found in men, Sir Henry, after +long reflection and a desperate struggle with himself, forgave her, and +now has the satisfaction of knowing that she prefers quiet, healthful +Glencardine to the social gaieties of Park Street, Paris, or San Remo, +while she and Gabrielle have lately become devoted to each other. + +The secret syndicate, with Sir Henry Heyburn at its head, still +operates, for no word of its existence has leaked out to either +financial circles or to the public, while the Whispers of Glencardine +are still believed in and dreaded by the whole countryside across the +Ochils. + +Edgar Hamilton, though compelled to return to the Baron, whose right +hand he is, often travels to Glencardine with confidential messages, and +documents for signature, and is, of course, an ever-welcome guest. + +The unpretentious house of Lenard et Morellet of Paris now and then +effects deals so enormous that financial circles are staggered, and the +world stands amazed. The true facts of who is actually behind that +apparently unimportant firm are, however, still rigorously and +ingeniously concealed. + +Who would ever dream that that quiet, grey-faced man with the sightless +eyes, living far away up in Scotland, passing his hours of darkness with +his old bronze seals or his knitting, was the brain which directed their +marvellously successful operations! + +The Laird of Connachan died quite suddenly about seven months ago, and +Walter Murie succeeded to the noble estate. Gabrielle--sweet, almost +child-like in her simple tastes and delightful charm, and more devoted +to Walter than ever--is now little Lady Murie, having been married in +Edinburgh a month ago. + +At the moment that I pen these final lines the pair are spending a +blissful honeymoon at the great old chateau of Hetzendorf, high up above +the broad-flowing Danube, the Baron having kindly vacated the place and +put it at their disposal for the summer. Happy in each other's love and +mutual trust, they spend the long blissful days in company, wandering +often hand in hand, for when Walter looks into those wonderful eyes of +hers he sees mirrored there a perfect and abiding affection such as is +indeed given few men to possess. + +Together they have in secret explored the ruins of the ancient +stronghold, and, by directions given them by the Baron, have found there +a stone chamber by no means dissimilar to that at Glencardine. + +Meanwhile, Sir Henry Heyburn, impatient for his beloved daughter to be +again near him and to assist him, passes his weary hours with his +favourite hobby; his wife, full of sympathy, bearing him company. From +her, however, he still withholds one secret, and one only--the Secret of +the House of Whispers. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF WHISPERS*** + + +******* This file should be named 10718.txt or 10718.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/7/1/10718 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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