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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/15893-8.txt b/15893-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..55357a8 --- /dev/null +++ b/15893-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12569 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Lighted Way, by E. Phillips Oppenheim, +Illustrated by A. B. Wenzell + + +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 Lighted Way + + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Release Date: May 24, 2005 [eBook #15893] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIGHTED WAY*** + + +E-text prepared by Janet Kegg and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed +Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 15893-h.htm or 15893-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/8/9/15893/15893-h/15893-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/8/9/15893/15893-h.zip) + + + + + +THE LIGHTED WAY + +by + +E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM + +Author of _Havoc_, _Peter Ruff and the Double-Four_, +_The Master Mummer_, etc. + +With Illustrations by A. B. Wenzell + +Boston +Little, Brown, and Company + +1912 + + + + + + + + [Illustration: Her head sank upon his shoulder, her hands + clasped his. FRONTISPIECE. _See page 354_.] + + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I AN INVITATION TO DINNER + II RUTH + III ARNOLD SCENTS MYSTERY + IV THE FACE AT THE WINDOW + V AN UNUSUAL ERRAND + VI THE GLEAM OF STEEL + VII "ROSARIO IS DEAD!" + VIII THE DUTIES OF A SECRETARY + IX A STRAINED CONVERSATION + X AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR + XI AN INTERRUPTED LUNCHEON + XII JARVIS IS JUSTLY DISTURBED + XIII CASTLES IN SPAIN + XIV SABATINI'S DOCTRINES + XV THE RED SIGNET RING + XVI AN ADVENTURE + XVII THE END OF AN EVENING + XVIII DISCUSSING THE MYSTERY + XIX IN THE COUNTRY + XX WOMAN'S WILES + XXI ARNOLD SPEAKS OUT + XXII THE REFUGEE'S RETURN + XXIII TROUBLE BREWING + XXIV ISAAC AT BAY + XXV MR. WEATHERLEY'S DISAPPEARANCE + XXVI ARNOLD BECOMES INQUISITIVE + XXVII THE LETTERS IN THE SAFE +XXVIII TALK OF TREASURE SHIPS + XXIX COUNT SABATINI VISITS + XXX SOME QUESTIONS ANSWERED + XXXI A LUNCHEON-PARTY + XXXII ISAAC IN HIDING +XXXIII SABATINI'S DAUGHTER + XXXIV CLOSE TO TRAGEDY + XXXV MR. WEATHERLEY RETURNS + XXXVI COUNTERCLAIMS +XXXVII THE SHIP COMES IN + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + +Her head sank upon his shoulder, her hands clasped his (Frontispiece) +"I was waiting here for you," he explained +The eyes of every one were turned toward the wall +"For myself," he declared, "I remain" +"Where is this man?" he demanded +Mrs. Weatherley and the cashier looked over his shoulder + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AN INVITATION TO DINNER + + +Mr. Samuel Weatherley, sole proprietor of the firm of Samuel +Weatherley & Co., wholesale provision merchants, of Tooley Street, +London, paused suddenly on his way from his private office to the +street. There was something which until that second had entirely +slipped his memory. It was not his umbrella, for that, neatly tucked +up, was already under his arm. Nor was it the _Times_, for that, +together with the supplement, was sticking out of his overcoat +pocket, the shape of which it completely ruined. As a matter of +fact, it was more important than either of these--it was a +commission from his wife. + +Very slowly he retraced his steps until he stood outside the +glass-enclosed cage where twelve of the hardest-worked clerks in +London bent over their ledgers and invoicing. With his forefinger--a +fat, pudgy forefinger--he tapped upon a pane of glass, and an +anxious errand boy bolted through the doorway. + +"Tell Mr. Jarvis to step this way," his employer ordered. + +Mr. Jarvis heard the message and came hurrying out. He was an +undersized man, with somewhat prominent eyes concealed by +gold-rimmed spectacles. He was possessed of extraordinary talents +with regard to the details of the business, and was withal an expert +and careful financier. Hence his hold upon the confidence of his +employer. + +The latter addressed him with a curious and altogether unusual +hesitation in his manner. + +"Mr. Jarvis," he began, "there is a matter--a little matter--upon +which I--er--wish to consult you." + +"Those American invoices--" + +"Nothing to do with business at all," Mr. Weatherley interrupted, +ruthlessly. "A little private matter." + +"Indeed, sir?" Mr. Jarvis interjected. + +"The fact is," Mr. Weatherley blundered on, with considerable +awkwardness, for he hated the whole affair, "my wife--Mrs. +Weatherley, you know--is giving a party this evening--having some +friends to dinner first, and then some other people coming to +bridge. We are a man short for dinner. Mrs. Weatherley told me to +get some one at the club--telephoned down here just an hour ago." + +Mr. Weatherley paused. Mr. Jarvis did his best to grasp the +situation, but failed. All that he could do was to maintain his +attitude of intelligent interest. + +"I don't know any one at the club," continued his employer, +irritably. "I feel like a fish out of water there, and that's the +truth, Mr. Jarvis. It's a good club. I got elected there--well, +never mind how--but it's one thing to be a member of a club, and +quite another to get to know the men there. You understand that, Mr. +Jarvis." + +Mr. Jarvis, however, did not understand it. He could conceive of no +spot in the city of London, or its immediate neighborhood, where Mr. +Samuel Weatherley, head of the firm of Messrs. Weatherley & Co., +could find himself among his social superiors. He knew the capital +of the firm, and its status. He was ignorant of the other things +which counted--as ignorant as his master had been until he had paid +a business visit a few years ago, in search of certain edibles, to +an island in the Mediterranean Sea. He was to have returned in +triumph to Tooley Street and launched upon the provision-buying +world a new cheese of astounding quality and infinitesimal +price--instead of which he brought home a wife. + +"Anything I can do, sir," began Mr. Jarvis, a little vaguely,-- + +"My idea was," Mr. Weatherley proceeded, "that one of my own young +men--there are twelve of them in there, aren't there?" he added, +jerking his head in the direction of the office--"might do. What do +you think?" + +Mr. Jarvis nodded thoughtfully. + +"It would be a great honor, sir," he declared, "a very great honor +indeed." + +Mr. Weatherley did not contradict him. As a matter of fact, he was +of the same opinion. + +"The question is which," he continued. + +Mr. Jarvis began to understand why he had been consulted. His +fingers involuntarily straightened his tie. + +"If I could be of any use personally, sir,--" + +His employer shook his head. + +"My wife would expect me to bring a single man, Jarvis," he said, +"and besides, I don't suppose you play bridge." + +"Cards are not much in my line," Mr. Jarvis admitted, "not having, +as a rule, the time to spare, but I can take a hand at loo, if +desired." + +"My wife's friends all play bridge," Mr. Weatherley declared, a +little brusquely. "There's only one young man in the office, Jarvis, +who, from his appearance, struck me as being likely." + +"Mr. Stephen Tidey, of course, sir," the confidential clerk agreed. +"Most suitable thing, sir, and I'm sure his father would accept it +as a high compliment. Mr. Stephen Tidey Senior, sir, as you may be +aware, is next on the list for the shrievalty. Shall I call him out, +sir?" + +Mr. Weatherley looked through the glass and met the glance, +instantly lowered, of the young man in question. Mr. Stephen Tidey +Junior was short and stout, reflecting in his physique his +aldermanic father. His complexion was poor, however, his neck thick, +and he wore a necktie of red silk drawn through a diamond ring. +There was nothing in his appearance which grated particularly upon +Mr. Weatherley's sense of seemliness. Nevertheless, he shook his +head. He was beginning to recognize his wife's point of view, even +though it still seemed strange to him. + +"I wasn't thinking of young Tidey at all," he declared, bluntly. "I +was thinking of that young fellow at the end of the desk there--chap +with a queer name--Chetwode, I think you call him." + +Mr. Jarvis, human automaton though he was, permitted himself an +exclamation of surprise. + +"Young Chetwode! Surely you're not in earnest, sir!" + +"Why not?" Mr. Weatherley demanded. "There's nothing against him, +is there?" + +"Nothing against him, precisely," Mr. Jarvis confessed, "but he's at +the lowest desk in the office, bar Smithers. His salary is only +twenty-eight shillings a week, and we know nothing whatever about +him except that his references were satisfactory. It isn't to be +supposed that he would feel at home in your house, sir. Now, with +Mr. Tidey, sir, it's quite different. They live in a very beautiful +house at Sydenham now--quite a small palace, in its way, I've been +told." + +Mr. Weatherley was getting a little impatient. + +"Send Chetwode out for a moment, anyway," he directed. "I'll speak +to him here." + +Mr. Jarvis obeyed in silence. He entered the office and touched the +young man in question upon the shoulder. + +"Mr. Weatherley wishes to speak to you outside, Chetwode," he +announced. "Make haste, please." + +Arnold Chetwode put down his pen and rose to his feet. There was +nothing flurried about his manner, nothing whatever to indicate on +his part any knowledge of the fact that this was the voice of Fate +beating upon his ear. He did not even show the ordinary interest of +a youthful employee summoned for the first time to an audience with +his chief. Standing for a moment by the side of the senior clerk in +the middle of the office, tall and straight, with deep brown hair, +excellent features, and the remnants of a healthy tan still visible +on his forehead and neck, he looked curiously out of place in this +unwholesome, gaslit building with its atmosphere of cheese and +bacon. He would have been noticeably good-looking upon the cricket +field or in any gathering of people belonging to the other side of +life. Here he seemed almost a curiously incongruous figure. He +passed through the glass-paned door and stood respectfully before +his employer. Mr. Weatherley--it was absurd, but he scarcely knew +how to make his suggestion--fidgetted for a moment and coughed. The +young man, who, among many other quite unusual qualities, was +possessed of a considerable amount of tact, looked down upon his +employer with a little well-assumed anxiety. As a matter of fact, he +really was exceedingly anxious not to lose his place. + +"I understood from Mr. Jarvis that you wished to speak to me, sir," +he remarked. "I hope that my work has given satisfaction? I know +that I am quite inexperienced but I don't think that I have made any +mistakes." + +Mr. Weatherley was, to tell the truth, thankful for the opening. + +"I have had no complaints, Chetwode," he admitted, struggling for +that note of condescension which he felt to be in order. "No +complaints at all. I was wondering if you--you happened to play +bridge?" + +Once more this extraordinary young man showed himself to be +possessed of gifts quite unusual at his age. Not by the flicker of +an eyelid did he show the least surprise or amusement. + +"Bridge, sir," he repeated. "Yes, I have played at--I have played +occasionally." + +"My wife is giving a small dinner-party this evening," Mr. +Weatherley continued, moving his umbrella from one hand to the other +and speaking very rapidly, "bridge afterwards. We happen to be a man +short. I was to have called at the club to try and pick up some +one--find I sha'n't have time--meeting at the Cannon Street Hotel to +attend. Would you--er--fill the vacant place? Save me the trouble of +looking about." + +It was out at last and Mr. Weatherley felt unaccountably relieved. +He felt at the same time a certain measure of annoyance with his +junior clerk for his unaltered composure. + +"I shall be very much pleased, sir," he answered, without +hesitation. "About eight, I suppose?" + +Again Mr. Weatherley's relief was tempered with a certain amount of +annoyance. This young man's _savoir faire_ was out of place. He +should have imagined a sort of high-tea supper at seven o'clock, and +been gently corrected by his courteous employer. As it was, Mr. +Weatherley felt dimly confident that this junior clerk of his was +more accustomed to eight o'clock dinners than he was himself. + +"A quarter to, to-night," he replied. "People coming for bridge +afterwards, you see. I live up Hampstead way--Pelham Lodge--quite +close to the tube station." + +Mr. Weatherley omitted the directions he had been about to give +respecting toilet, and turned away. His youthful employee's manners, +to the last, were all that could be desired. + +"I am much obliged to you, sir," he said. "I will take care to be +punctual." + +Mr. Weatherley grunted and walked out into the street. Here his +behavior was a little singular. He walked up toward London Bridge, +exchanging greetings with a good many acquaintances on the way. +Opposite the London & Westminster Bank he paused for a moment and +looked searchingly around. Satisfied that he was unobserved, he +stepped quickly into a very handsome motor car which was drawn up +close to the curb, and with a sigh of relief sat as far back among +the cushions as possible and held the tube to his mouth. + +"Get along home," he ordered, tersely. + + * * * * * + +Arnold Chetwode, after his interview with his employer, returned +unruffled to his place. Mr. Jarvis bustled in after him. He was +annoyed, but he wished to conceal the fact. Besides, he still had an +arrow in his quiver. He came and stood over his subordinate. + +"Congratulate you, I'm sure, Chetwode," he said smoothly. "First +time any one except myself has been to the house since Mr. +Weatherley's marriage." + +Mr. Jarvis had taken the letters there one morning when his employer +had been unwell, and had waited in the hall. He did not, however, +mention that fact. + +"Indeed?" Chetwode murmured, with his eye upon his work. + +"You understand, of course," Mr. Jarvis continued, "that it will be +an evening-dress affair. Mrs. Weatherley has the name of being very +particular." + +He glanced covertly at the young man, who was already immersed in +his work. + +"Evening dress," Chetwode remarked, with a becoming show of +interest. "Well, I dare say I can manage something. If I wear a +black coat and a white silk bow, and stick a red handkerchief in +underneath my waistcoat, I dare say I shall be all right. Mr. +Weatherley can't expect much from me in that way, can he?" + +The senior clerk was secretly delighted. It was not for him to +acquaint this young countryman with the necessities of London life. +He turned away and took up a bundle of letters. + +"Can't say, I'm sure, what the governor expects," he replied, +falsely. "You'll have to do the best you can, I suppose. Better get +on with those invoices now." + +Once more the office resounded to the hum of its varied labors. Mr. +Jarvis, dictating letters to a typist, smiled occasionally as he +pictured the arrival of this over-favored young man in the +drawing-room of Mrs. Weatherley, attired in the nondescript fashion +which his words had suggested. One or two of the clerks ventured +upon a chaffing remark. To all appearance, the person most absorbed +in his work was the young man who had been singled out for such +especial favor. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +RUTH + + +In the topmost chamber of the last of a row of somber gray stone +houses in Adam Street a girl with a thin but beautiful face and +large, expectant eyes sat close to the bare, uncurtained window, +from which it was possible to command a view of the street below. A +book which she had apparently been reading had fallen neglected onto +the floor. Steadfastly she watched the passers-by. Her delicate, +expressive features were more than once illuminated with joy, only +to be clouded, a moment later, with disappointment. The color came +and went in her cheeks, as though, indeed, she were more sensitive +than her years. Occasionally she glanced around at the clock. Time +dragged so slowly in that great bare room with its obvious touch of +poverty! + +At last a tall figure came striding along the pavement below. This +time no mistake was possible. There was a fluttering handkerchief +from above, an answering wave of the hand. The girl drew a sigh of +inexpressible content, moved away from the window and faced the +door, with lifted head waiting for the sound of footsteps upon the +stairs. They arrived at last. The door was thrown open. Arnold +Chetwode came hastily across the room and gripped the two hands +which were held out to him. Then he bent down and kissed her +forehead. + +"Dear little Ruth!" he exclaimed. "I hope you were careful crossing +the landing?" + +The girl leaned back in her chair. Her eyes were fixed anxiously +upon his face. She completely ignored his question. + +"The news at once!" she insisted. "Tell me, Arnold!" + +He was a little taken aback. + +"How did you know that I had any?" + +She smiled delightfully. + +"Know, indeed! I knew it directly I saw you, I knew it every time +your foot touched the stairs. What is it, Arnold? The cheeses didn't +smell so bad to-day? Or you've had a rise? Quick! I must hear all +about it." + +"You shall," Arnold replied. "It is a wonderful story. Listen. Have +you ever heard the fable of Dick Whittington?" + +"Married his employer's daughter, of course. What's she like, +Arnold? Have you seen her? Did you save her life? When are you going +to see her again?" + +Chetwode was already on his knees, dragging out an old trunk from +underneath the faded cupboard. Suddenly he paused with a gesture of +despair. + +"Alas!" he exclaimed. "My dream fades away. Old Weatherley was +married only last year. Consequently, his daughter--" + +"He can't have one," she interrupted, ruthlessly. "Tell me the news +at once?" + +"I am going to dine with old Weatherley," he announced. + +The girl smiled, a little wistfully. + +"How funny! But you will get a good dinner, won't you, Arnold? Eat +ever so much, dear. Yesterday I fancied that you were getting thin. +I do wish I could see what you have in the middle of the day." + +"Little mother!" he laughed. "To-day I gorged myself on poached +eggs. What did Isaac give you?" + +"Mutton stew and heaps of it," the girl replied, quickly. "To-night +I shall have a bowl of milk as soon as you are gone. Have you +everything you ought to have to wear, Arnold?" + +"Everything," he declared, rising to his feet with a sigh of relief. +"It's so long since I looked at my clothes that to tell you the +truth I was a little bit anxious. They may be old-fashioned, but +they came from a good man to start with." + +"What made Mr. Weatherley ask you?" she demanded. + +"Wanted one of his clerks to fill up and found that I played +bridge," Arnold answered. "It's rather a bore, isn't it? But, after +all, he is my employer." + +"Of course you must go and behave your very nicest. Tell me, when +have you to start?" + +"I ought to be changing in a quarter of an hour. What shall we do +till then?" + +"Whatever you like," she murmured. + +"I am coming to sit at the window with you," he said. "We'll look +down at the river and you shall tell me stories about the ships." + +She laughed and took his hand as he dragged a chair over to her +side. He put his arm around her and her head fell naturally back +upon his shoulder. Her eyes sought his. He was leaning forward, +gazing down between the curving line of lamp-posts, across the belt +of black river with its flecks of yellow light. But Ruth watched him +only. + +"Arnie," she whispered in his ear, "there are no fairy ships upon +the river to-night." + +He smiled. + +"Why not, little one? You have only to close your eyes." + +Slowly she shook her head. + +"Don't think that I am foolish, dear," she begged. "To-night I +cannot look upon the river at all. I feel that there is something +new here--here in this room. The great things are here, Arnold. I +can feel life hammering and throbbing in the air. We aren't in a +garret any longer, dear. It's a fairy palace. Listen. Can't you hear +the people shout, and the music, and the fountains playing? Can't +you see the dusky walls fall back, the marble pillars, the lights in +the ceiling?" + +He turned his head. He found himself, indeed, listening, found +himself almost disappointed to hear nothing but the far-off, eternal +roar of the city, and the melancholy grinding of a hurdy-gurdy +below. Always she carried him away by her intense earnestness, the +bewitching softness of her voice, even when it was galleons full of +treasure that she saw, with blood-red sails, coming up the river, +full of treasure for them. To-night her voice had more than its +share of inspiration, her fancies clung to her feverishly. + +"Be careful, Arnold," she murmured. "To-night means a change. There +is something new coming. I can feel it coming in my heart." + +Her face was drawn and pale. He laughed down into her eyes. + +"Little lady," he reminded her, mockingly, "I am going to dine with +my cheesemonger employer." + +She shook her head dreamily. She refused to be dragged down. + +"There's something beating in the air," she continued. "It came into +the room with you. Don't you feel it? Can't you feel that you are +going to a tragedy? Life is going to be different, Arnold, to be +different always." + +He drew himself up. A flicker of passion flamed in his own deep gray +eyes. + +"Different, child? Of course it's going to be different. If there +weren't something else in front, do you think one could live? Do you +think one could be content to struggle through this miserable +quagmire if one didn't believe that there was something else on the +other side of the hill?" + +She sighed, and her fingers touched his. + +"I forgot," she said simply. "You see, there was a time when I +hadn't you. You lifted me out of my quagmire." + +"Not high enough, dear," he answered, caressingly. "Some day I'll +take you over to Berlin or Vienna, or one of those wonderful places. +We'll leave Isaac to grub along and sow red fire in Hyde Park. We'll +find the doctors. We shall teach you to walk again without that +stick. No more gloominess, please." + +She pressed his hand tightly. + +"Dear Arnold!" she whispered softly. + +"Turn around and watch the river with me, little one," he begged. +"See the lights on the barges, how slowly they move. What is there +behind that one, I wonder?" + +Her eyes followed his finger without enthusiasm. + +"I can't look out of the room to-night, Arnold," she said. "The +fancies won't come. Promise me one thing." + +"I promise," he agreed. + +"Tell me everything--don't keep anything back." + +"On my honor," he declared, smiling. "I will bring the menu of the +dinner, if there is one, and a photograph of Mrs. Cheesemonger if I +can steal it. Now I am going to help you back into your room." + +"Don't bother," she begged. "Open the door and I can get there quite +easily." + +He set the door open and, crossing the bare stone landing, opened +the door of another room, similar to his. They were somber +apartments at the top of the deserted house, which had once been a +nobleman's residence. The doors were still heavy, though blistered +with time and lack of varnish. There were the remains of paneling +upon the wall and frescoes upon the ceiling. + +"Come and see me before you go," she pleaded. "I am all alone. Isaac +has gone to a meeting somewhere." + +He promised and returned to his own apartment. With the help of a +candle which he stuck upon the mantelpiece, and a cracked mirror, he +first of all shaved, then disappeared for a few minutes behind a +piece of faded curtain and washed vigorously. Afterwards he changed +his clothes, putting on a dress suit produced from the trunk. When +he had finished, he stepped back and laughed softly to himself. His +clothes were well cut. His studs, which had very many times been on +the point of visiting the pawnbroker's, were correct and good. He +was indeed an incongruous figure as he stood there and, with a +candle carefully held away from him in his hand, looked at his own +reflection. For some reason or other, he was feeling elated. Ruth's +words had lingered in his brain. One could never tell which way +fortune might come! + +He found her waiting in the darkness. Her long arms were wound for a +moment around his neck, a sudden passion shook her. + +"Arnold--dear Arnold," she sobbed, "you are going into the +storm--and I want to go! I want to go, too! My hands are cold, and +my heart. Take me with you, dear!" + +He was a little startled. It was not often that she was hysterical. +He looked down into her convulsed face. She choked for a moment, and +then, although it was not altogether a successful effort, she +laughed. + +"Don't mind me," she begged. "I am a little mad to-night. I think +that the twilight here has got upon my nerves. Light the lamp, +please. Light the lamp and leave me alone for a moment while you do +it." + +He obeyed, fetching some matches from his own room and setting the +lamp, when it was lit, on the table by her side. There were no tears +left in her eyes now. Her lips were tremulous, but an unusual spot +of color was burning in her cheeks. While he had been dressing, he +saw that she had tied a piece of deep blue ribbon, the color he +liked best, around her hair. + +"See, I am myself now. Good night and good luck to you, Arnold! Eat +a good dinner, mind, and remember your promise." + +"There is nothing more that I can do for you?" he asked. + +"Nothing," she replied. "Besides, I can hear Uncle Isaac coming." + +The door was suddenly opened. A thin, undersized man in worn black +clothes, and with a somber hat of soft black felt still upon his +head, came into the room. His dark hair was tinged with gray, he +walked with a pronounced stoop. In his shabby clothes, fitting +loosely upon his diminutive body, he should have been an +insignificant figure, but somehow or other he was nothing of the +sort. His thin lips curved into a discontented droop. His cheeks +were hollow and his eyes shone with the brightness of the fanatic. +Arnold greeted him familiarly. + +"Hullo, Isaac!" he exclaimed. "You are just in time to save Ruth +from being left all alone." + +The newcomer came to a standstill. He looked the speaker over from +head to foot with an expression of growing disgust, and he spat upon +the floor. + +"What livery's that?" he demanded. + +Arnold laughed good-naturedly. + +"Come, Isaac," he protested, "I don't often inflict it upon you, do +I? It's something that belongs to the world on the other side, you +know. We all of us have to look over the fence now and then. I have +to cross the borderland to-night for an hour or so." + +Isaac threw open the door by which he had entered. + +"Get out of here," he ordered. "If you were one of us, I'd call you +a traitor for wearing the rags. As it is, I say that no one is +welcomed under my roof who looks as you look now. Why, d--n it, I +believe you're a gentleman!" + +Arnold laughed softly. + +"My dear Isaac," he retorted, "I am as I was born and made. You +can't blame me for that, can you? Besides,--" + +He broke off suddenly. A little murmur from the girl behind +reminded him of her presence. He passed on to the door. + +"Good night, Isaac," he said. "Look after Ruth. She's lonely +to-night." + +"I'll look after her," was the grim reply. "As for you, get you +gone. There was one of your sort came to the meeting of Jameson's +moulders this afternoon. He had a question to ask and I answered +him. He wanted to know wherein wealth was a sin, and I told him." + +Arnold Chetwode was young and his sense of humor triumphant. He +turned on the threshold and looked into the shadowy room, dimly lit +with its cheap lamp. He kissed his hands to Ruth. + +"My dear Isaac," he declared, lightly, "you are talking like an ass. +I have two shillings and a penny ha'penny in my pocket, which has to +last me till Saturday, and I earn my twenty-eight shillings a week +in old Weatherley's counting-house as honestly as you earn your wage +by thundering from Labor platforms and articles in the _Clarion_. My +clothes are part of the livery of civilization. The journalist who +reports a Lord Mayor's dinner has to wear them. Some day, when +you've got your seat in Parliament, you'll wear them yourself. Good +night!" + +He paused before closing the door. Ruth's kiss came wafted to him +from the shadows where her great eyes were burning like stars. Her +uncle had turned his back upon him. The word he muttered sounded +like a malediction, but Arnold Chetwode went down the stone steps +blithely. It was an untrodden land, this, into which he was to pass. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +ARNOLD SCENTS MYSTERY + + +From the first, nothing about that evening was as Arnold had +expected. He took the tube to Hampstead station, and, the night +being dry, he walked to Pelham Lodge without detriment to his +carefully polished patent shoes. The neighborhood was entirely +strange to him and he was surprised to find that the house which was +pointed out to him by a policeman was situated in grounds of not +inconsiderable extent, and approached by a short drive. Directly he +rang the bell he was admitted not by a flamboyant parlormaid but by +a quiet, sad-faced butler in plain, dark livery, who might have been +major-domo to a duke. The house was even larger than he had +expected, and was handsomely furnished in an extremely subdued +style. It was dimly, almost insufficiently lit, and there was a +faint but not unpleasant odor in the drawing-room which reminded him +of incense. The room itself almost took his breath away. It was +entirely French. The hangings, carpet and upholstery were all of a +subdued rose color and white. Arnold, who was, for a young man, +exceedingly susceptible to impressions, looked around him with an +air almost of wonder. It was fortunate, perhaps, that the room was +empty. + +"Mr. and Mrs. Weatherley will be downstairs in one moment, sir," +the man announced. "Mr. Weatherley was a little late home from the +city." + +Arnold nodded and stood upon the hearthrug, looking around him. He +was quite content to spend a few moments alone, to admire the +drooping clusters of roses, the elegance with which every article of +furniture and appointment of the room seemed to fit into its place. +Somehow or other, too, nothing appeared new. Everything seemed +subdued by time into its proper tone. He began to wonder what sort +of woman the presiding genius over such perfection could be. Then, +with a quaint transition of thought, he remembered the little +counting-house in Tooley Street, the smell of cheeses, and Mr. +Weatherley's half-nervous invitation. His lips twitched and he began +to smile. These things seemed to belong to a world so far away. + +Presently he heard footsteps outside and voices. The door was opened +but the person outside did not immediately enter. Apparently she had +turned round to listen to the man who was still some distance +behind. Arnold recognized his employer's voice. + +"I am sorry that you are displeased, my dear Fenella, but I assure +you that I did the best I could. It is true that the young man is in +my office, but I am convinced that you will find him presentable." + +A peal of the softest and most musical laughter that Arnold had +ever heard in his life effectually stopped Mr. Weatherley's +protestations. Yet, for all its softness and for all its music, +there was a different note underneath, something a little bitter, +unutterably scornful. + +"My dear Samuel, it is true, without doubt, that you did your best. +I do not blame you at all. It was I who was foolish to leave such a +matter in your hands. It was not likely that among your +acquaintances there was one whom I would have cared to welcome to my +house. But that you should have gone to your employees--that, +indeed, is funny! You do amuse me very much. Come." + +The door was pushed fully open now and a woman entered, at the sight +of whom Arnold forgot all his feelings of mingled annoyance and +amusement. She was of little over the medium height, exceedingly +slim--a slimness which was accentuated by the fashion of the gown +she wore. Her face was absolutely devoid of color, but her features +were almost cameo-like in their sensitive perfection. Her eyes were +large and soft and brown, her hair a Titian red, worn low and +without ornament. Her dress was of pale blue satin, which somehow +had the effect of being made in a single piece, without seam or +joining. Her neck and throat, exquisitely white, were bare except +for a single necklace of pearls which reached almost to her knees. +The look in Arnold's face, as she came slowly into the room, was one +of frank and boyish admiration. The woman came towards him with a +soft smile about her lips, but she was evidently puzzled. It was Mr. +Weatherley who spoke. There was something almost triumphant in his +manner. + +"This is Mr. Chetwode, dear, of whom I was speaking to you," he +said. "Glad to see you, Chetwode," he added, with ponderous +condescension. + +The woman laughed softly as she held out her hand. + +"Are you going to pretend that you were deaf, to forgive me and be +friends, Mr. Chetwode?" she asked, looking up at him. "One foggy +day my husband took me to Tooley Street, and I did not believe that +anything good could come out of the yellow fog and the mud and the +smells. It was my ignorance. You heard, but you do not mind? I am +sure that you do not mind?" + +"Not a bit in the world," Arnold answered, still holding the hand +which she seemed to have forgotten to draw away, and smiling down +into her upturned face. "I was awfully sorry to overhear but you see +I couldn't very well help it, could I?" + +"Of course you could not help it," she replied. "I am so glad that +you came and I hope that we can make it pleasant for you. I will try +and send you in to dinner with some one very charming." + +She laughed at him understandingly as his lips parted and closed +again without speech. Then she turned away to welcome some other +guests, who were at that moment announced. Arnold stood in the +background for a few minutes. Presently she came back to him. + +"Do you know any one here?" she asked. + +"No one," he answered. + +She dropped her voice almost to a whisper. Arnold bent his head and +listened with a curious pleasure to her little stream of words. + +"It is a strange mixture of people whom you see here," she said, "a +mixture, perhaps, of the most prosaic and the most romantic. The +Count Sabatini, whom you see talking to my husband, is my brother. +He is a person who lives in the flood of adventures. He has taken +part in five wars, he has been tried more than once for political +offenses. He has been banished from what is really our native +country, Portugal, with a price set upon his head. He has an estate +upon which nothing grows, and a castle with holes in the roof in +which no one could dwell. Yet he lives--oh, yes, he lives!" + +Arnold looked across at the man of whom she was speaking--gaunt and +olive-skinned, with deep-set eyes and worn face. He had still some +share of his sister's good looks and he held himself as a man of his +race should. + +"I think I should like your brother," Arnold declared. "Will he talk +about his campaigns?" + +"Perhaps," she murmured, "although there is one about which you +would not care to hear. He fought with the Boers, but we will not +speak of that. Mr. and Mrs. Horsman there I shall say nothing about. +Imagine for yourself where they belong." + +"They are your husband's friends," he decided, unhesitatingly. + +"You are a young man of great perceptions," she replied. "I am going +to like you, I am sure. Come, there is Mr. Starling standing by the +door. What do you think of him?" + +Arnold glanced across the room. Mr. Starling was apparently a +middle-aged man--clean-shaven, with pale cheeks and somewhat narrow +eyes. + +"An American, without a doubt," Arnold remarked. + +"Quite right. Now the lady in the gray satin with the wonderful +coiffure--she has looked at you already more than once. Her name is +Lady Blennington, and she is always trying to discover new young +men." + +Arnold glanced at her deliberately and back again at his hostess. + +"There is nothing for me to say about her," he declared. + +"You are wonderful," she murmured. "That is so exactly what one +feels about Lady Blennington. Then there is Lady Templeton--that +fluffy little thing behind my husband. She looks rather as though +she had come out of a toy shop, does she not?" + +"She looks nice," Arnold admitted. "I knew--" + +She glanced up at him and waited. Arnold, however, had stopped +short. + +"You have not yet told me," he said, "the name of the man who stands +alone near the door--the one with the little piece of red ribbon in +his coat?" + +It seemed to him that, for some reason, the presence of that +particular person affected her. He was a plump little man, sleek and +well-dressed, with black hair, very large pearl studs, black +moustache and imperial. Mrs. Weatherley stood quite still for a +moment. Perhaps, he thought, she was listening to the conversation +around them. + +"The man's name is Rosario," she replied. "He is a financier and a +man of fashion. Another time you must tell me what you think of him, +but I warn you that it will not be so easy as with those others, for +he is also a man of schemes. I am sorry, but I must send you in now +with Mrs. Horsman, who is much too amiable to be anything else but +dull. You shall come with me and I will introduce you." + +Dinner was announced almost at that moment. Arnold, keen to enjoy, +with all the love of new places and the enthusiasm of youth in his +veins, found every moment of the meal delightful. They took their +places at a round table with shaded lights artistically arranged, so +that they seemed to be seated before a little oasis of flowers and +perfumes in the midst of a land of shadows. He found his companion +pleasant and sympathetic. She had a son about his age who was going +soon into the city and about whom she talked incessantly. On his +left, Lady Blennington made frank attempts to engage him in +conversation whenever an opportunity arose. Arnold felt his spirits +rise with every moment. He laughed and talked the whole of the time, +devoting himself with very little intermission to one or the other +of his two neighbors. Mr. Weatherley, who was exceedingly +uncomfortable and found it difficult even to remember his few staple +openings, looked across the table more than once in absolute wonder +that this young man who, earning a wage of twenty-eight shillings a +week, and occupying almost the bottom stool in his office, could yet +be entirely and completely at his ease in this exalted company. More +than once Arnold caught his hostess's eye, and each time he felt, +for some unknown reason, a little thrill of pleasure at the faint +relaxing of her lips, the glance of sympathy which shone across the +roses. Life was a good place, he thought to himself, for these few +hours, at any rate. And then, as he leaned back in his place for a +moment, Ruth's words seemed suddenly traced with a finger of fire +upon the dim wall. To-night was to be a night of mysteries. To-night +the great adventure was to be born. He glanced around the table. +There was, indeed, an air of mystery about some of these guests, +something curiously aloof, something which it was impossible to put +into words. The man Starling, for instance, seemed queerly placed +here. Count Sabatini was another of the guests who seemed somehow to +be outside the little circle. For minutes together he sat sometimes +in grim silence. About him, too, there was always a curious air of +detachment. Rosario was making the small conversation with his +neighbor which the occasion seemed to demand, but he, too, appeared +to talk as one who had more weighty matters troubling his brain. It +was a fancy of Arnold's, perhaps, but it was a fancy of which he +could not rid himself. He glanced towards his employer and a curious +feeling of sympathy stirred him. The man was unhappy and ill at +ease. He had lost his air of slight pomposity, the air with which he +entered his offices in the morning, strutted about the warehouse, +went out to lunch with a customer, and which he somehow seemed to +lose as the time came for returning to his home. Once or twice he +glanced towards his wife, half nervously, half admiringly. Once she +nodded back to him, but it was the nod of one who gathers up her +skirts as she throws alms to a beggar. Then Arnold realized that his +little fit of thoughtfulness had made a material difference to the +hum of conversation. He remembered his duty and leaned over toward +Lady Blennington. + +"You promised to tell me more about some of these people," he +reminded her. "I am driven to make guesses all the time. Why does +Mr. Starling look so much like an unwilling and impatient guest? And +where is the castle of the Count Sabatini which has no roof?" + +Lady Blennington sighed. + +"This table is much too small for us to indulge in scandal," she +replied. "It really is such a pity. One so seldom meets any one +worth talking to who doesn't know everything there is that shouldn't +be known about everybody. About Count Sabatini, for instance, I +could tell you some most amusing things." + +"His castle, perhaps, is in the air?" Arnold inquired. + +"By no means," Lady Blennington assured him. + +"On the contrary, it is very much upon the rocks. Some little island +near Minorca, I believe. They say that Mr. Weatherley was wrecked +there and Sabatini locked him up in a dungeon and refused to let him +go until he promised to marry his sister." + +"There are a good many men in the world, I should think," Arnold +murmured, "who would like to be locked up on similar conditions." + +She looked at him with a queer little smile. + +"I suppose it is inevitable," she declared. "You will have to go +through it, too. She certainly is one of the loveliest women I ever +saw. I suppose you are already convinced that she is entirely +adorable?" + +"She has been very kind to me," Arnold replied. + +"She would be," Lady Blennington remarked, dryly. "Look at her +husband. The poor man ought to have known better than to have +married her, of course, but do you think that he looks even +reasonably happy?" + +Arnold was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable. He was conscious +of a strong desire not to discuss his hostess. Yet his curiosity was +immense. He asked one question. + +"Tell me," he said, "if she came from this little island in the +Mediterranean, why does she speak English so perfectly?" + +"She was educated in England," Lady Blennington told him. +"Afterwards, her brother took her to South America. She had some +small fortune, I believe, but when she came back they were +penniless. They were really living as small market gardeners when +Mr. Weatherley found them." + +"You don't like her," he remarked. "I wonder why?" + +Lady Blennington shook her head. + +"One never knows," she replied. "I admire her, if that is anything." + +"But you do not like her," he persisted. + +She shrugged her shoulders slightly. + +"I am afraid it is true," she agreed. + +"You admit that and yet you are willing to be her guest?" + +She smiled at him approvingly. + +"If there is one masculine quality which I do appreciate," she said, +"it is directness. I come because I love bridge and because I love +my fellow-creatures and because my own friends are none too +numerous. With the exception of those worthy friends of our host and +his wife who are seated upon your right--Mr. and Mrs. Horsman, I +believe they are called--we are all of the same ilk. Mr. Starling no +one knows anything about; Count Sabatini's record is something +awful." + +"But there is Rosario," Arnold protested. + +"Rosario goes into all the odd corners of the world," she replied. +"Sometimes the corners are respectable and sometimes they are not. +It really doesn't matter so far as he is concerned. Supposing, in +return for all this information, you tell me something about +yourself?" + +"There isn't anything to tell," Arnold assured her. "I was asked +here to fill up. I am an employee of Mr. Weatherley's." + +She turned in her chair to look at him. Her surprise was obvious. + +"Do you mean that you are his secretary, or something of that +sort?" she demanded. + +"I am a clerk in his office," Arnold told her. + +She was evidently puzzled, but she asked him no more questions. At +that moment Mrs. Weatherley rose from her place. As she passed +Arnold she paused for a moment. + +"You are all coming in five minutes," she said. "Before we play +bridge, come straight to me. I have something to say to you." + +He bowed and resumed his seat, from which he had risen quickly at +her coming. Mr. Weatherley motioned to him to move up to his side. +His face now was a little flushed, but his nervousness had not +disappeared. He was certainly not the same man whom one met at +Tooley Street. + +"Glad to see you've made friends with the wife, Chetwode," he said. +"She seems to have taken quite a fancy to you." + +"Mrs. Weatherley has been very kind," Arnold answered. + +"Enjoying yourself, I hope?" Mr. Weatherley asked. + +"Very much indeed," Arnold declared. "It has been quite a treat for +me." + +Sabatini and Starling were talking earnestly together at the other +side of the table. Rosario, bringing his wine down, came and sat at +his host's other side. + +"Beautiful vintage, this, Mr. Weatherley," he said. "Excellent +condition, too." + +Mr. Weatherley, obviously pleased, pursued the subject. In a way, it +was almost pathetic to see his pleasure in being addressed by one of +his own guests. Arnold drew a little away and looked across the +banks of roses. There was something fascinating to him in the +unheard conversation of Sabatini and Starling, on the opposite side +of the table. Everything they said was in an undertone and the +inexpressive faces of the two men gave no indication as to the +nature of their conversation. Yet the sense of something mysterious +in this house and among these guests was growing all the time with +Arnold. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE FACE AT THE WINDOW + + +Mr. Weatherley laid his hand upon his young companion's arm as they +crossed the hall on their way from the dining-room. + +"We are going to play bridge in the music-room," he announced. +"Things are different, nowadays, than when I was a boy. The men and +the women, too, have to smoke cigarettes all the time while they +play cards. A bad habit, Chetwode! A very bad habit indeed! I've +nothing to say against a good Havana cigar in the dining-room or the +smoking-room, but this constant cigarette smoking sickens me. I +can't bear the smell of the things. Here we are. I don't know what +table my wife has put you at, I'm sure. She arranges all these +things herself." + +Several guests who had arrived during the last few minutes were +already playing at various tables. Mrs. Weatherley was moving about, +directing the proceedings. She came across to them as soon as they +entered, and, laying her hand upon Arnold's arm, drew him on one +side. There was a smile still upon her lips but trouble in her eyes. +She looked over her shoulder a little nervously and Arnold half +unconsciously followed the direction of her gaze. Rosario was +standing apart from the others, talking earnestly with Starling. + +"I want you to stay with me, if you please," she said. "I am not +sure where you will play, but there is no hurry. I myself shall not +sit down at present. There are others to arrive." + +Her brother, who had been talking languidly to Lady Blennington, +came slowly up to them. + +"You, Andrea, will wait for the baccarat, of course?" she said. "I +know that this sort of bridge does not amuse you." + +He answered her with a little shrug of the shoulders and, leaning +towards her, spoke a few words in some tongue which Arnold did not +at once recognize. She looked again over her shoulder at Rosario and +her face clouded. She replied in the same tongue. Arnold would have +moved away, but she detained him. + +"You must not mind," she said softly, "that my brother and I talk +sometimes in our native language. You do not, by chance, know +Portuguese, Mr. Chetwode?" + +"Not a word," he replied. + +"I am going to leave all these people to amuse themselves," she +continued, dropping her voice slightly. "I want you to come with me +for a moment, Mr. Chetwode. You must take care that you do not slip. +These wooden floors are almost dangerous. I did give a dance here +once," she continued, as they made their way across the room, +talking a little vaguely and with an obvious effort. "I did not +enjoy it at all. To me the style of dancing in this country seems +ungraceful. Look behind, Mr. Chetwode. Tell me, is Mr. Rosario +following us?" + +Arnold glanced over his shoulder. Rosario was still standing in the +same place, but he was watching them intently. + +"He is looking after us, but he has not moved," Arnold announced. + +"It is better for him that he stays there," Mrs. Weatherley said +softly. "Please come." + +At the further end of the apartment there was a bend to the left. +Mrs. Weatherley led the way around the corner into a small recess, +out of sight of the remainder of the people. Here she paused and, +holding up her finger, looked around. Her head was thrown back, the +trouble still gleamed in her eyes. She listened intently to the hum +of voices, as though trying to distinguish those she knew. +Satisfied, apparently, that their disappearance had not occasioned +any comment, she moved forward again, motioned Arnold to open a +door, and led him down a long passage to the front of the house. +Here she opened the door of an apartment on the left-hand side of +the hall, and almost pushed him in. She closed the door quickly +behind them. Then she held up her finger. + +"Listen!" she said. + +They could hear nothing save the distant murmur of voices in the +music-room. The room which they had entered was in complete +darkness, through which the ivory pallor of her arms and face, and +the soft fire of her eyes, seemed to be the only things visible. She +was standing quite close to him. He could hear her breathing, he +could almost fancy that he heard her heart beat. A strand of hair +even touched his cheek as she moved. + +"I do not wish to turn the light up for a moment," she whispered. +"You do not mind?" + +"I mind nothing," Arnold answered, bewildered. "Are you afraid of +anything? Is there anything I can do?" + +A sense of excitement was stirring him. + +"Just do as I ask, that is all," she murmured. "I want to look +outside a moment. Just do as I ask and keep quiet." + +She stole from him to the window and, moving the curtain a few +inches, knelt down, peering out. She remained there motionless for a +full minute. Then she rose to her feet and came back. His eyes were +becoming more accustomed to the gloom now and he could see the +outline of her figure as she moved towards him. + +"Take my place there," she whispered. "Look down the drive. Tell me +whether you can see any one watching the house?" + +He went down on his knees at the place she indicated and peered +through the parted curtain. For a few seconds he could see nothing; +then, as his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he discerned two +motionless figures standing on the left-hand side of the drive, +partly concealed by a tall laurel bush. + +"I believe," he declared hoarsely, "that there are two men standing +there." + +"Tell me, are they moving?" she demanded. + +"They seem to be simply watching the house," he replied. + +She was silent. He could hear her breath come and go. + +"They still do not move?" she asked, after a few seconds. + +He shook his head, and she turned away, listening to some footsteps +in the hall. + +"Remember," she whispered, "I am standing where I can turn on the +light in a moment. If any one comes, you are here to see my South +American curios. This is my own sitting-room. You understand?" + +"I understand," he assented. "Whatever you tell me to say, I will +say." + +She seemed to be gathering courage. She laughed very softly, as +though amused at his earnestness. There was little enough of mirth +in her laughter, yet somehow it gave him heart. + +"What do these men want?" he asked. "Would you like me to go out and +send them away?" + +"No," she replied. "I do not wish you to leave me." + +"But they are terrifying you," he protested. "What right have they +in your garden? They are here, perhaps, as thieves." + +"Hush!" + +She sprang away from him. The room was suddenly flooded with light. +She was leaning with her arm upon the mantelpiece, a statuette of +black ivory in her hand. + +"If you are really fond of this sort of thing," she began, "you +should come with me to the South Kensington Museum one day--Who is +that?" + +The door had opened. It was Mr. Weatherley who appeared. Mr. +Weatherley was distinctly fussy and there was some return of his +pompous manner. + +"My dear Fenella!" he exclaimed. "What on earth are you doing in +here, with half your bridge tables as yet unarranged? Your guests +are wondering what has become of you." + +"Has any one fresh turned up?" she asked, setting down the +statuette. + +"A Lady Raynham has just arrived," Mr. Weatherley replied, "and is +making herself very disagreeable because there is no one to tell her +at which table she is to play. I heard a young man who came with +her, too, asking Parkins what time supper was. I do not wish to +criticize the manners of your guests, but really, my dear Fenella, +some of them do seem to have strange ideas." + +"Lady Raynham," she remarked, coldly, "is a person who should be +glad to find herself under any respectable roof without making +complaints. Mr. Chetwode," she continued, turning to him, "it is my +wish to finish showing you my treasures. Therefore, will you wait +here, please, for a short time, while I go and start another bridge +table? I shall return quite soon. Come, Samuel." + +Mr. Weatherley coughed. He seemed unwilling to leave Arnold behind. + +"I dare say young Chetwode would like a hand at bridge himself, my +dear," he protested. + +"Mr. Chetwode shall have one later on," she promised. "I think that +very likely he will play at my table. Come." + +They left the room together. She looked back for a moment before, +they disappeared and Arnold felt his heart give a little jump. She +was certainly the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and +there was something in her treatment of him, the subtle flattery of +her half appealing confidence, which went to his head like wine. The +door closed and he was left alone. He listened to their departing +footsteps. Then he looked around him, for the first time forming +some idea of his surroundings. He was in a very charming, +comfortable-looking apartment, with deep easy-chairs, a divan +covered with luxurious cushions, numbers of little tables covered +with photographs and flowers, a great bowl of hot-house roses, and +an oak cabinet with an oak background in the further corner of the +room, which was packed with curios. After his first brief +inspection, however, he felt scarcely any curiosity as to the +contents of the room. It was the window which drew him always +towards It. Once more he peered through the chink of the curtains. +He had not cared to turn out the lights, however, and for several +moments everything was indistinguishable. Then he saw that the two +figures still remained in very nearly the same position, except that +they had drawn, if anything, a little closer to the house. + +A tiny clock upon the mantelpiece was ticking away the seconds. +Arnold had no idea how long he remained there watching. Suddenly, +however, he received a shock. For some time he had fancied that one +of the two figures had disappeared altogether, and now, outside on +the window-sill, scarcely a couple of feet from the glass through +which he was looking, a man's hand appeared and gripped the +window-sill. He stared at it, fascinated. It was so close to him +that he could see the thin, yellow fingers, on one of which was a +signet ring with a blood-red stone; the misshapen knuckles, the +broken nails. He was on the point of throwing up the window when a +man's face shot up from underneath and peered into the room. There +was only the thickness of the glass between them, and the light from +the gas lamp which stood at the corner of the drive fell full upon +the white, strained features and the glittering black eyes which +stared into the room. The chink of the curtain through which Arnold +was gazing was barely an inch wide; but it was sufficient. For a +moment he stared at the man. Then he threw the curtains open and +stooped to unfasten the window. It was the affair of a few seconds +only to throw it up. To his surprise, the man did not move. Their +faces almost touched. + +"What the devil do you want?" Arnold exclaimed, gripping him by the +arm. + +The man did not flinch. He inclined his head towards the interior of +the room. + +"Rosario, the Jew," he answered thickly. "He is in the house there. +Will you take him a message?" + +"Ring at the door and bring it yourself," Arnold retorted. + +The man laughed contemptuously. He stared at Arnold for a moment and +seemed to realize for the first time that he was a stranger. + +"You are a fool to meddle in things you know nothing of!" he +muttered. + +"I know you've no right where you are," said Arnold, "and I shall +keep you until some one comes." + +The intruder made a sudden dive, freeing himself with an +extraordinary turn of the wrist. Arnold caught a glimpse of his face +as he slunk away. While he hesitated whether to follow him, he heard +the door open and the soft rustle of a woman's skirts. + +"What are you doing out there, Mr. Chetwode?" + +He turned around. Mrs. Weatherley was standing just behind him, +leaning also out of the window, with a little halo of light about +her head. For a moment he was powerless to answer. Her head was +thrown back, her lips parted. She seemed to be listening as well as +watching. There was fear in her eyes as she looked at him, yet she +made the most beautiful picture he had ever seen. He pulled himself +together. + +"Well?" she asked, breathlessly. + +"I was waiting here for you," he explained. "I looked through the +curtains. Then I saw a man's hand upon the sill." + + [Illustration: "I was waiting here for you," he explained. + _Page 39_.] + +Her hand shot to her side. + +"Go on," she whispered. + +"I saw his face," Arnold continued. "It was pressed close to the +window. It was as though he meant to enter. I threw the curtains +back, opened the window, and gripped him by the arm. I asked him +what he wanted." + +She sat down in a chair and began to tremble. + +"He said he wanted Rosario, the Jew," Arnold went on. "Then, when he +found that I was a stranger, he got away. I don't know how he +managed it, for my fingers are strong enough, but he wrenched +himself free somehow." + +"Look out once more," she implored. "See if he is anywhere around. I +will speak to him." + +He stood at the window and looked in every direction. + +"There is no one in sight," he declared. "I will go to the corner of +the street, if you like." + +She shook her head. + +"Close the window and bolt it, please," she begged. "Draw the +curtains tight. Now come and sit down here for a moment." + +He did as he was bidden with some reluctance. + +"The man was a villainous-looking creature," he persisted. "I don't +think that he was up to any good. Look! There's a policeman almost +opposite. Shall I go and tell him?" + +She put out her hand and clasped his, drawing him down to her side. +Then she looked steadfastly into his face. + +"Mr. Chetwode," she said slowly, "women have many disadvantages in +life, but they have had one gift bestowed upon them in which they +trust always. It is the gift of instinct. You are very young, and I +know very little about you, but I know that you are to be trusted." + +"If I could serve you," he murmured,-- + +"You can," she interrupted. + +Then for a time she was silent. Some new emotion seemed to move her. +Her face was softer than he had ever seen it, her beautiful eyes +dimmer. His mind was filled with new thoughts of her. + +"Mrs. Weatherley," he pleaded, "please do believe in me, do trust +me. I mean absolutely what I say when I tell you there is nothing in +the world I would not do to save you from trouble or alarm." + +Her moment of weakness was over. She flashed one wonderful smile at +him and rose to her feet. + +"It is agreed," she declared. "When I need help--and it may be at +any moment--I shall call upon you." + +"I shall be honored," he assured her, gravely. "In the meantime, +please tell me--are we to speak of this to Rosario?" + +"Leave it to me," she begged. "I cannot explain to you what all this +means, but I think that Mr. Rosario can take care of himself. We +must go back now to the bridge-room. My husband is annoyed with me +for coming away again." + +Mr. Weatherley met them in the passage. He was distinctly irritable. + +"My dear Fenella!" he exclaimed. "Your guests do not understand +your absence. Mr. Rosario is most annoyed and I cannot imagine what +is the matter with Starling. I am afraid that he and Rosario have +had words." + +She turned her head as she passed, and smiled very slightly. + +"I have no concern," she said, "in the quarrel between Mr. Starling +and Mr. Rosario. As for the others--Mr. Chetwode and I are quite +ready for bridge now. We are going in to do our duty." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +AN UNUSUAL ERRAND + + +Arnold arrived at the office the next morning punctually at five +minutes to nine, and was already at work when Mr. Jarvis appeared +ten minutes later. + +"Gayety's not upset you, then, eh?" the latter remarked, divesting +himself of his hat and overcoat. + +"Not at all, thanks," Arnold answered. + +"Nice house, the governor's, isn't it?" + +"Very nice indeed." + +"Good dinners he gives, too," continued Mr. Jarvis. "Slap-up wines, +and the right sort of company. Must have been an eye-opener for +you." + +Arnold nodded. He was not in the least anxious to discuss the events +of the previous evening with Mr. Jarvis. The latter, however, came a +little nearer to him. He took off his gold-rimmed spectacles and +wiped them carefully. + +"Now I should like to know," he said, "exactly how Mrs. Weatherley +struck you?" + +"She appeared to me to be a singularly charming and very beautiful +lady," Arnold replied, writing quickly. + +Mr. Jarvis was disappointed. + +"She's good-looking enough," he admitted. "I can't say that I've +seen much of her, mind you, but she gave me the impression of a +woman who wasn't above using the powder-puff. She drove down here +with the governor one day, and to look at her you'd have thought she +was a princess come among the slums." + +"She was born abroad," Arnold remarked. "I dare say this atmosphere +would seem a little strange to her." + +"Sort of half a foreigner, I've understood," Mr. Jarvis continued. +"Speaks English all right, though. I can't help thinking," he went +on, "that the governor would have done better to have married into +one of our old city families. Nothing like them, you know, Chetwode. +Some fine women, too. There's Godson, the former Lord Mayor. He had +four daughters, and the governor might have had his pick." + +"Here he comes," Arnold remarked, quietly. + +Mr. Jarvis took the hint and went off to his work. A moment or two +later, Mr. Weatherley arrived. He passed through the office and +bestowed upon every one his customary salutation. At Arnold's desk +he paused for a moment. + +"Feeling all right this morning, young man?" he inquired, striving +after a note of patronage which somehow or other eluded him. + +"Quite well, thank you, sir." + +"You found the evening pleasant, I hope? Didn't lose any money at +bridge, eh?" + +"Mrs. Weatherley was good enough to take on the stakes, sir," Arnold +replied. "As a matter of fact, I believe that we won. I enjoyed the +evening very much, thank you." + +Mr. Weatherley passed on to his office. Jarvis waited until his +door was closed. + +"So you played bridge with Mrs. Weatherley, eh?" he remarked. + +"I did," Arnold admitted. "Have you noticed the shrinkage of weight +in these last invoices?" + +Mr. Jarvis accepted the papers which his junior passed him, and +departed into the warehouse. Arnold was left untroubled with any +more questions. At half-past twelve, however, he was sent for into +Mr. Weatherley's private office. Mr. Weatherley was leaning back in +his chair and he had the air of a man who has come to a resolution. + +"Shut the door, Chetwode," he ordered. + +Arnold did as he was bidden. + +"Come up to the desk here," he was further instructed. "Now, listen +to me," Mr. Weatherley continued, after a moment's pause. "You are a +young man of discretion, I am sure. My wife, I may say, Chetwode, +thought quite highly of you last night." + +Arnold looked his employer in the face and felt a sudden pang of +sympathy. Mr. Weatherley was certainly not looking as hale and +prosperous as a few months ago. His cheeks were flabby, and there +was a worried look about him which the head of the firm of +Weatherley & Co. should certainly not have worn. + +"Mrs. Weatherley is very kind, sir," he remarked. "As to my +discretion, I may say that I believe I am to be trusted. I should +try, of course, to justify any confidence you might place in me." + +"I believe so, too, Chetwode," Mr. Weatherley declared. "I am going +to trust you now with a somewhat peculiar commission. You may have +noticed that I have been asked to speak privately upon the +telephone several times this morning." + +"Certainly, sir," Arnold replied. "It was I who put you through." + +"I am not even sure," Mr. Weatherley continued, "who it was +speaking, but I received some communications which I think I ought +to take notice of. I want you accordingly to go to a certain +restaurant in the west-end, the name and address of which I will +give you, order your lunch there--you can have whatever you +like--and wait until you see Mr. Rosario. I dare say you remember +meeting Mr. Rosario last night, eh?" + +"Certainly, sir. I remember him quite well." + +"He will not be expecting you, so you will have to sit near the door +and watch for him. Directly you see him, you must go to him and say +that this message is from a friend. Tell him that whatever +engagement he may have formed for luncheon, he is to go at once to +the Prince's Grill Room and remain there until two o'clock. He is +not to lunch at the Milan--that is the name of the place where you +will be. Do you understand?" + +"I understand perfectly," Arnold assented. "But supposing he only +laughs at me?" + +"You will have done your duty," Mr. Weatherley said. "There need be +no mystery about the affair. You can say at once that you are there +as the result of certain telephone messages addressed to me this +morning, and that I should have come myself if it had been possible. +If he chooses to disregard them, it is his affair entirely--not +mine. At the same time, I think that he will go." + +"It seems an odd sort of a thing to tell a perfect stranger, sir," +Arnold remarked. + +Mr. Weatherley produced a five-pound note. + +"You can't go into those sort of places without money in your +pocket," he continued. "You can account to me for the change later, +but don't spare yourself. Have as good a lunch as you can eat. The +restaurant is the Milan Grill Room on the Strand--the café, mind, +not the main restaurant. You know where it is?" + +"Quite well, sir, thank you." + +Mr. Weatherley looked at his employee curiously. + +"Have you ever been there, then?" he inquired. + +"Once or twice, sir," Arnold admitted. + +"Not on the twenty-eight shillings a week you get from me!" + +"Quite true, sir," Arnold assented. "My circumstances were slightly +different at the time." + +Mr. Weatherley hesitated. This young man's manner did not invite +confidences. On the other hand, he was genuinely curious about him. + +"What made you come into the city, Chetwode?" he inquired. "You +don't seem altogether cut out for it--not that you don't do your +work and all that sort of thing," he went on, hastily. "I haven't a +word of complaint to make, mind. All the same, you certainly seem as +though you might have done a little better for yourself." + +"It is the fault of circumstances, sir," Arnold replied. "I am +hoping that before long you will find that I do my work well enough +to give me a better position." + +"You are ambitious, then?" + +The face of the young man was suddenly grim. + +"I mean to get on," he declared. "There were several years of my +life when I used to imagine things. I have quite finished with that. +I realize that there is only one way by means of which a man can +count." + +Mr. Weatherley nodded ponderously. + +"Well," he said, "let me see that your work is well done, and you +may find promotion is almost as quick in the city as anywhere else. +You had better be off now." + +"I trust," Arnold ventured, as he turned toward the door, "that Mrs. +Weatherley is quite well this morning?" + +"So far as I know, she is," Mr. Weatherley replied. "My wife isn't +usually visible before luncheon time. Continental habits, you know. +I shall expect you back by three o'clock. You must come and report +to me then." + +Arnold brushed his hat and coat with extra care as he took them down +from the peg. + +"Going to lunch early, aren't you?" Mr. Jarvis remarked, looking at +the clock. "Not sure that we can spare you yet. Smithers isn't +back." + +"I am going out for the governor," Arnold replied. + +"What, to the bank?" Mr. Jarvis asked. + +Arnold affected not to hear. He walked out into the street, lit a +cigarette, and had his boots carefully polished at London Bridge +Station. Then, as he had plenty of time, he took the train to +Charing Cross and walked blithely down the Strand. Freed from the +routine of his office work, he found his mind once more full of the +events of last night. There was so much that he could not +understand, yet there was so much that seemed to be leading him on +towards the land of adventures. He found himself watching the faces +in the Strand with a new interest, and he laughed to himself as he +realized what it was. He was looking all the time for the man whose +face he had seen pressed to the window-pane! + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE GLEAM OF STEEL + + +At the Milan, Arnold found himself early for luncheon. He chose a +table quite close to the entrance, ordered his luncheon with some +care, and commenced his watch. A thin stream of people was all the +time arriving, but for the first half-hour there was no one whom he +could associate in any way with his commission. It was not until he +had actually commenced his lunch that anything happened. Then, +through the half-open door, he heard what he recognized instantly as +a familiar voice. The manager of the restaurant hurried toward the +entrance and he heard the question repeated. + +"Is Mr. Rosario here?" + +"We have a table for him, madame, but he has not yet arrived," the +_maître d'hôtel_ replied. "If madame will allow me to show her the +way!" + +Arnold rose to his feet with a little start. Notwithstanding her +fashionable outdoor clothes and thick veil, he recognized Mrs. +Weatherley at once as she swept into the room, following the _maître +d'hôtel_. She came up to him with slightly upraised eyebrows. It was +clear that his presence there was a surprise to her. + +"I scarcely expected to see you again so soon," she remarked, +giving him her fingers. "Are you lunching alone?" + +"Quite alone," Arnold answered. + +She glanced half carelessly around, as though to see whether she +recognized any acquaintances. Arnold, however, was convinced that +she was simply anxious not to be overheard. + +"Tell me," she inquired, "has my husband sent you here?" + +Arnold admitted the fact. + +"I have a message," he replied. + +"For Mr. Rosario?" + +"For Mr. Rosario." + +"You have not seen anything of him yet, then?" she asked quickly. + +"He has not been here," Arnold assured her. "I have kept my eyes +glued upon the door." + +"Tell me the message quickly," she begged. + +Arnold did not hesitate. Mr. Weatherley was his employer but this +woman was his employer's wife. If there were secrets between them, +it was not his concern. It seemed natural enough that she should +ask. It was certainly not his place to refuse to answer her +question. + +"I was to tell him that on no account was he to lunch here to-day," +Arnold said. "He was to go instead to the grill room at Prince's in +Piccadilly, and remain there until two o'clock." + +Mrs. Weatherley made no remark. Her face was emotionless. Closely +though he was watching her, Arnold could not himself have declared +at that moment whether indeed this message had any import to her or +not. + +"I find my husband's behavior exceedingly mysterious," she said +thoughtfully. "I cannot imagine how he became concerned in the +matter at all." + +"I believe," Arnold told her, "that some one telephoned Mr. +Weatherley this morning. He was asked for privately several times +and he seemed very much disturbed by some message he received." + +"Some one telephoned him," she repeated, frowning. "Now I wonder who +that person could be." + +She sat quite still for a moment or two, looking through the +glass-paneled door. Then she shrugged her shoulders. + +"In any case," she declared, "I am here to lunch and I am hungry. I +will not wait for Mr. Rosario. May I sit here?" + +He called a waiter and the extra place was very soon prepared. + +"If Mr. Rosario comes," she said, "we can see him from here. You can +then give him your message and he can please himself. I should like +some Omelette aux Champignons, please, and some red wine--nothing +more. Perhaps I will take some fruit later. And now, please, Mr. +Arnold Chetwode, will you listen to me?" + +She undid her ermine cloak and laid aside her muff. The collection +of costly trifles which she had been carrying she threw carelessly +upon the table. + +"Last night," she continued, softly, "we agreed, did we not, to be +friends? It is possible you may find our friendship one of deeds, +not words alone." + +"There is nothing I ask for more sincerely," he declared. + +"To begin with, then," she went on, "I do not wish that you call me +Mrs. Weatherley. The name annoys me. It reminds me of things which +at times it is a joy to me to forget. You shall call me Fenella, and +I shall call you Arnold." + +"Fenella," he repeated, half to himself. + +She nodded. + +"Well, then, that is arranged. Now for the first thing I have to ask +of you. If Mr. Rosario comes, I do not wish that message from my +husband to be delivered." + +Arnold frowned slightly. + +"Isn't that a little difficult?" he protested. "Mr. Weatherley has +sent me up here for no other reason. He has given me an exact +commission, has told me even the words I am to use. What excuse can +I possibly make?" + +She smiled. + +"You shall be relieved of all responsibility," she declared. "If I +tell my husband that I do not wish you to obey his bidding, that +will be sufficient. It is a matter of which my husband understands +little. There are people whose interest it is to protect Rosario. It +is they who have spoken, without a doubt, this morning through the +telephone, but my husband does not understand. Rosario must take +care of himself. He runs his own risks. He is a man, and he knows +very well what he is doing." + +Arnold looked at her thoughtfully. + +"Do you seriously suppose, then," he asked, "that the object of my +message is to bid Mr. Rosario keep away from here because of some +actual danger?" + +"Why not? Mr. Rosario has chosen to interfere in a very difficult +and dangerous matter. He runs his own risks and he asks for a big +reward. It is not our place to protect him." + +She raised her veil and he looked at her closely. She was still as +beautiful as he had thought her last night, but her complexion was +pallid almost to fragility, and there were faint violet lines under +her eyes. + +"You have not slept," he said. "It was the fear of last night." + +"I slept badly," she admitted, "but that passes. This afternoon I +shall rest." + +"I cannot help thinking," he went on, "about those men who watched +the house last night. They could have been after no good. I wish you +would let me go to the police-station. Or would you like me to come +and watch myself, to-night or to-morrow night, to see if they come +again?" + +She shook her head firmly. + +"No!" she decided. "It wouldn't do any good. Just now, at any rate, +it is Rosario they want." + +Their conversation was interrupted for several moments while she +exchanged greetings with friends passing in and out of the +restaurant. Then she turned again to her companion. + +"Tell me," she asked, a little abruptly, "why are you a clerk in the +city? You do not come of that order of people." + +"Necessity," he assured her promptly. "I hadn't a sovereign in the +world when your husband engaged me." + +"You were not brought up for such a life!" + +"Not altogether," he admitted. "It suits me very well, though." + +"Poor boy!" she murmured. "You, too, have had evil fortune. Perhaps +the black hand has shadowed us both." + +"A man makes his own life," he answered, impulsively, "but you--you +were made for happiness. It is your right." + +She glanced for a moment at the rings upon her fingers. Then she +looked into his eyes. + +"I married Mr. Weatherley," she reminded him. "Do you think that if +I had been happy I should have done that? Do you think that, having +done it, I deserve to know, or could know, what happiness really +means?" + +It was very hard to answer her. Arnold found himself divided between +his loyalty towards the man who, in his way, had been kind to him, +and the woman who seemed to be stepping with such fascinating ease +into the empty places of his life. + +"Mr. Weatherley is very much devoted to you," he remarked. + +A shadow of derision parted her lips. + +"Mr. Weatherley is a very worthy man," she said, "but it would have +been better for him as well as for me if he had kept away from the +Island of Sabatini. Tell me, what did Lady Blennington say about us +last night?" + +His eyes twinkled. + +"She told me that Mr. Weatherley was wrecked upon the Island of +Sabatini, and that your brother kept him in a dungeon till he +promised to marry you." + +She laughed. + +"And you? What did you think of that?" + +"I thought," he replied, "that if adventures of that sort were to be +found in those seas, I would like to beg or borrow the money to sail +there myself and steer for the rocks." + +"For a boy," she declared, "you say very charming things. Tell me, +how old are you?" + +"Twenty-four." + +"You would not look so old if it were not for that line. You know, I +read characters and fortunes. All the women of my race have done so. +I can tell you that you had a youth of ease and happiness and one +year of terrible life. Then you started again. It is true, is it +not?" + +"Very nearly," he admitted. + +"I wonder--" + +She never finished her sentence. From their table, which was nearest +to the door, they were suddenly aware of a commotion of some sort +going on just outside. Through the glass door Rosario was plainly +visible, his sleekness ruffled, his white face distorted with +terror. The hand of some unseen person was gripping him by the +throat, bearing him backwards. There was a shout and they both saw +the cloakroom attendant spring over his counter. Something glittered +in the dim light--a flash of blue polished steel. There was a gleam +in the air, a horrible cry, and Rosario collapsed upon the floor. +Arnold, who was already on his feet and half-way to the door, caught +one glimpse of the upstretched hand, and all his senses were +thrilled with what he saw. Upon the little finger was a signet ring +with a scarlet stone! + +The whole affair was a matter of seconds, yet Arnold dashed through +the door to find Rosario a crumpled-up heap, the cloakroom attendant +bending over him, and no one else in the vestibule. Then the people +began to stream in--the hall porter, the lift man, some loiterers +from the outer hall. The cloakroom attendant sprang to his feet. He +seemed dazed. + +"Stop him!" he shouted. "Stop him!" + +The little group in the doorway looked at one another. + +"He went that way!" the cloakroom attendant cried out again. "He +passed through that door!" + +Some of them rushed into the street. One man hurried to the +telephone, the others pressed forward to where Rosario lay on his +back, with a thin stream of blood finding its way through his +waistcoat. Arnold was suddenly conscious of a woman's arm upon his +and a hoarse whisper in his ear. + +"Come back! Take me away somewhere quickly! This is no affair of +ours. I want to think. Take me away, please. I can't look at him." + +"Did you see the man's hand?" Arnold gasped. + +"What of it?" + +"It was the hand I saw upon your window-sill last night. It was the +same ring--a scarlet signet ring. I could swear to it." + +She gave a little moan and her whole weight lay upon his arm. In the +rush of people and the clamor of voices around, they were almost +unobserved. He passed his arm around her, and even in that moment of +wild excitement he was conscious of a nameless joy which seemed to +set his heart leaping. He led her back through the restaurant and +into one of the smaller rooms of the hotel. He found her an +easy-chair and stood over her. + +"You won't leave me?" she begged. + +He held her hand tightly. + +"Not until you send me away!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +"ROSARIO IS DEAD!" + + +Fenella never became absolutely unconscious. She was for some time +in a state apparently of intense nervous prostration. Her breath was +coming quickly, her eyes and her fingers seemed to be clinging to +his as though for support. Her touch, her intimate presence, her +reliance upon him, seemed to Arnold to infect the very atmosphere of +the place with a thrill of the strangest excitement. + +"You think that he is dead?" she faltered once. + +"Of course not," he replied reassuringly. "I saw no weapon at all. +It was just a quarrel." + +She half closed her eyes. + +"There was blood upon his waistcoat," she declared, "and I saw +something flash through the window." + +"I will go and see, if you like," Arnold suggested. + +Her fingers gripped his. + +"Not yet! Don't leave me yet! Why did you say that you recognized +the hand--that it was the same hand you saw upon the window-sill +last night?" + +"Because of the signet ring," Arnold answered promptly. "It was a +crude-looking affair, but the stone was bright scarlet. It was +impossible to mistake it." + +"It was only the ring, then?" + +"Only the ring, of course," he admitted. "I did not see the hand +close enough. It was foolish of me, perhaps, to say anything about +it, and yet--and yet the man last night--he was looking for Rosario. +Why should it not be the same?" + +He heard the breath come through her teeth in a little sob. + +"Don't say anything at present to any one else. Indeed, there are +others who might have worn such a ring." + +Arnold hesitated, but only for a second. He chanced to look into her +face, and her whisper became his command. + +"Very well," he promised. + +A few moments later she sat up. She was evidently becoming stronger. + +"Now go," she begged, "and see--how he is. Find out exactly what has +happened and come back. I shall wait for you here." + +He stood up eagerly. + +"You are sure that you will be all right?" + +"Of course," she replied. "Indeed, I shall be better when I know +what really has happened. You must go quickly, please, and come back +quickly. Stop!" + +Arnold, who had already started, turned back again. They were in a +ladies' small reception room at the head of the stairs leading down +into the restaurant, quite alone, for every one had streamed across +the courtyard to see what the disturbance was. The side of the room +adjoining the stairs and the broad passage leading to the +restaurant was entirely of glass. A man, on his way up the stairs, +had paused and was looking intently at them. + +"Tell me, who is that?" demanded Fenella. + +Arnold recognized him at once. + +"It is your friend Starling--the man from South America." + +"Starling!" she murmured. + +"I think that he is coming in," Arnold continued. "He has seen you. +Do you mind?" + +She shook her head. + +"No. He will stay with me while you are away. Perhaps he knows +something." + +Arnold hurried off and met Starling upon the threshold of the room. + +"Isn't that Mrs. Weatherley with you?" the latter inquired. + +"Yes," Arnold told him. "She was lunching with me in the Grill Room. +I believe that she was really waiting for Rosario--when the affair +happened." + +"What affair?" + +Arnold stared at him. It seemed impossible that there was any one +ignorant of the tragedy. + +"Haven't you heard?" Arnold exclaimed. "Rosario was stabbed outside +the Grill Room a few moments ago." + +Starling's pallid complexion seemed suddenly to become ghastly. + +"Rosario--Rosario stabbed?" he faltered. + +"I thought that every one in the place must have heard of it," +Arnold continued. "He was stabbed just as he was entering the café, +not more than ten minutes ago." + +"By whom?" + +Starling's words came with the swift crispness of a pistol shot. +Arnold shook his head. + +"I didn't see. I am just going to ask for particulars. Will you stay +with Mrs. Weatherley?" + +Starling looked searchingly along the vestibule. The news seemed to +have affected him strangely. His head was thrown a little back, his +nostrils distended. He reminded Arnold for a moment of a watch-dog, +listening. + +"Of course," he muttered, "of course. Come back as soon as you can +and let us know what has happened." + +Arnold made his way through the reception hall and across the +courtyard. Already the crowd of people was melting away. A policeman +stood on guard at the opposite door, and two more at the entrance of +the café. The whole of the vestibule where the affair had happened +was closed, and the only information which it was possible to +collect Arnold gathered from the excited conversations of the little +knots of people standing around. In a few minutes he returned to the +small reception room. Fenella and Starling looked eagerly up as he +entered. They both showed signs of an intense emotion. Starling was +even gripping the back of a chair as he spoke. + +"What of Rosario?" he demanded. + +Arnold hesitated, but only for a moment. The truth, perhaps, was +best. + +"Rosario is dead," he replied gravely. "He was stabbed to the heart +and died within a few seconds." + +There was a queer silence. Arnold felt inclined to rub his eyes. +Gone was at least part of the horror from their white faces. Fenella +sank back in her chair with a little sob which might almost have +been of relief. Starling, as though suddenly mindful of the +conventions, assumed a grimly dolorous aspect. + +"Poor fellow!" he muttered. "And the murderer?" + +"He's gotten clean off, for the present at any rate," Arnold told +them. "They seem to think that he reached the Strand and had a motor +car waiting." + +Again there was silence. Then Mrs. Weatherley rose to her feet, +glanced for a moment in the looking-glass, and turning round held +out both her hands to Arnold. + +"You have been so kind to me," she said softly. "I shall not forget +it--indeed I shall not. Mr. Starling is going to take me home in his +car. Good-bye!" + +Arnold held her hands steadfastly and looked into her eyes. They +were more beautiful than ever now with their mist of risen tears. +But there were other things in her face, things less easy to +understand. He turned away regretfully. + +"I am sorry that you should have had such a shock," he said. "Is +there any message for Mr. Weatherley?" + +She exchanged a quick glance with her companion. Then for the first +time Arnold realized the significance of the errand on which he had +come. + +"Some one must have warned Mr. Weatherley of what was likely to +happen!" he exclaimed. "It was for that reason I was sent here!" + +Again no one spoke for several seconds. + +"It was not your fault," she said gently. "You were told to wait +inside the restaurant. You could not have done more." + +Arnold turned away with a little shiver. His mission had been to +save a man's life, and he had failed! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE DUTIES OF A SECRETARY + + +It was twenty minutes to four before Arnold reached the office. Mr. +Jarvis looked at him curiously as he took off his hat and hung it +up. + +"I don't know what you've been up to, young man," he remarked, "but +you'll find the governor in a queer state of mind. For the last hour +he's been ringing his bell every five minutes, asking for you." + +"I was detained," Arnold answered shortly. "Is he alone now?" + +Mr. Jarvis nodded. + +"I think that you had better go in at once," he advised. "There he +is stamping about inside. I hope you've got some good excuse or +there'll be the dickens to pay." + +The door of the inner office was suddenly opened. Mr. Weatherley +appeared upon the threshold. He recognized Arnold with an expression +partly of anger, partly of relief. + +"So here you are at last, young man!" he exclaimed. "Where the +dickens have you been to all this while? Come in--come in at once! +Do you see the time?" + +"I am very sorry indeed, sir," Arnold replied. "I can assure you +that I have not wasted a moment that I know of." + +"Then what in the name of goodness did you find to keep you occupied +all this time?" Mr. Weatherley demanded, pushing him through into +the office and closing the door behind them. "Did you see Mr. +Rosario? Did you give him the message?" + +"I had no opportunity, sir," Arnold answered gravely. + +"No opportunity? What do you mean? Didn't he come to the Milan? +Didn't you see him at all?" + +"He came, sir," Arnold admitted, "but I was not able to see him in +time. I thought, perhaps," he added, "that you might have heard what +happened." + +Mr. Weatherley had reached the limits of his patience. He struck the +table with his clenched fist. For a moment anger triumphed over his +state of nervous excitability. + +"Heard?" he cried. "Heard what? What the devil should I hear down +here? If you've anything to tell, why don't you tell it me? Why do +you stand there looking like a--" + +Mr. Weatherley was suddenly frightened. He understood from Arnold's +expression that something serious had happened. + +"My God!" he exclaimed. "Mrs. Weatherley--my wife--" + +"Mrs. Weatherley is quite well," Arnold assured him quickly. "It is +Mr. Rosario." + +"What of him? What about Rosario?" + +"He is dead," Arnold announced. "You will read all about it in the +evening papers. He was murdered--just as he was on the point of +entering the Milan Grill Room." + +Mr. Weatherley began to shake. He looked like a man on the verge of +a collapse. He was still, however, able to ask a question. + +"By whom?" + +"The murderer was not caught," Arnold told him. "No one seems to +have seen him clearly, it all took place so quickly. He stole out of +some corner where he must have been hiding, and he was gone before +anyone had time to realize what was happening." + +Mr. Weatherley had been standing up all this time, clutching +nervously at his desk. He suddenly collapsed into his easy-chair. +His face was gray, his mouth twitched as though he were about to +have a stroke. + +"My God!" he murmured. "Rosario dead! They had him, after all! +They--killed him!" + +"It was a great shock to every one," Arnold went on. "Mrs. +Weatherley arrived about a quarter of an hour before it occurred. I +understood that she was expecting to lunch with him, but when I told +her why I was there she came and sat at my table. She was sitting +there when it happened. She was very much upset indeed. I was +detained looking after her." + +Mr. Weatherley looked at him narrowly. + +"I am sorry that she was there," he said. "She is not strong. She +ought not to be subjected to such shocks." + +"I left her with Mr. Starling," Arnold continued. "He was going to +take her home." + +"Was Starling lunching there?" Mr. Weatherley asked. + +"We saw him afterwards, coming up from the restaurant," Arnold +replied. "He did not seem to have been in the Grill Room at all." + +Mr. Weatherley sat back in his chair and for several minutes he +remained silent. His eyes were fixed upon vacancy, his lips moved +once or twice, but he said nothing. He seemed, indeed, to have lost +the power of speech. + +"It is extraordinary how the affair could have happened, almost +unnoticed, in such a crowded place," Arnold went on, feeling somehow +that it was best for him to talk. "There is nearly always a little +stream of people coming in, or a telephone boy, or some one passing, +but it happened that Mr. Rosario came in alone. He had just handed +his silk hat to the cloakroom attendant, who had turned away with +it, when the man who killed him slipped out from somewhere, caught +him by the throat, and it was all over in a few seconds. The +murderer seems to have kept his face entirely hidden. They do not +appear to have found a single person who could identify him. I had a +table quite close to the door, as you told me, and I really saw the +blow struck. We rushed outside, but, though I don't believe we were +more than a few seconds, there wasn't a soul in sight." + +"The police will find out something," Mr. Weatherley muttered. "They +are sure to find out something." + +"Some people think," Arnold continued, "that the man never left the +hotel, or, if he did, that he was taken away in a motor car. The +whole hotel was being searched very carefully when I left." + +There was a knock at the door. Mr. Jarvis, who had been unable to +restrain his curiosity any longer, brought some letters in for +signature. + +"If you can spare a moment, sir," he began, apologetically, "there +is this little matter of Bland & Company's order. I have brought the +reports with me." + +Mr. Weatherley felt his feet upon the ground again. He turned to +the papers which his clerk laid before him and gave them his close +attention. When Arnold would have left the room, however, he signed +impatiently to him to remain. As soon as he had given his +instructions, and Mr. Jarvis had left the room, he turned once more +to Arnold. + +"Chetwode," he said, looking at him critically, "you appear to me to +be a young man of athletic build." + +Arnold was quite speechless. + +"I mean that you could hold your own in a tussle, eh? You look +strong enough to knock any one down who attempted to take liberties +with you." + +Arnold smiled. + +"I dare say I might manage that, sir," he admitted. + +"Very well--very well, then," Mr. Weatherley repeated. "Have your +desk moved in here at once, Chetwode. You can have it placed just +where you like. You'll get the light from that window if you have +the easy-chair moved and put in the corner there against the wall. +Understand that from now on you are my private secretary, and you do +not leave this room, whoever may come in to see me, except by my +special instructions. You understand that, eh?" + +"Perfectly, sir." + +"Your business is to protect me, in case of anything happening--of +any disagreeable visitors, or anything of that sort," Mr. Weatherley +declared. "This affair of Mr. Rosario has made me nervous. There is +a very dangerous gang of people about who try to get money from rich +men, and, if they don't succeed, use violence. I have already come +into contact with something of the sort myself. Your salary--what +do you get at present?" + +"Twenty-eight shillings a week, sir." + +"Double it," Mr. Weatherley ordered promptly. "Three pounds a week I +will make it. For three pounds a week I may rely upon your constant +and zealous service?" + +"You may rely absolutely on that," Arnold replied, not quite sure +whether he was on his head or his feet. + +"Very well, then, go and tell some of the porters to bring in your +desk. Have it brought in this very moment. Understand, if you +please, that it is my wish not to be left alone under any +circumstances--that is quite clear, isn't it?--not under any +circumstances! I have heard some most disquieting stories about +black-mailers and that sort of people." + +"I don't think you need fear anything of the sort here," Arnold +assured him. + +"I trust not," Mr. Weatherley asserted, "but I prefer to be on the +right side. As regards firearms," he continued, "I have never +carried them, nor am I accustomed to handling them. At the same +time,--" + +"I wouldn't bother about firearms, if I were you, sir," Arnold +interrupted. "I can promise you that while I am in this office no +one will touch you or harm you in any way. I would rather rely upon +my fists any day." + +Mr. Weatherley nodded. + +"I am glad to hear you say so. A strong young man like you need have +no fear, of course. You understand, Chetwode, not a word in the +outer office." + +"Certainly not, sir," Arnold promised. "You can rely entirely upon +my discretion. You will perhaps tell Mr. Jarvis that I am to do my +work in here. Fortunately, I know a little shorthand, so if you like +I can take the letters down. It will make my presence seem more +reasonable." + +Mr. Weatherley leaned back in his chair and lit a cigar. He was +recovering slowly. + +"A very good idea, Chetwode," he said. "I will certainly inform Mr. +Jarvis. Poor Rosario!" he went on thoughtfully. "And to think that +he might have been warned. If only I had told you to wait outside +the restaurant!" + +"Do you know who it was who telephoned to you, sir?" Arnold asked. + +"No idea--no idea at all," Mr. Weatherley declared. "Some one rang +up and told me that Mr. Rosario was engaged to lunch in the Grill +Room with my wife. I don't know who it was--didn't recognize the +voice from Adam--but the person went on to say that it would be a +very great service indeed to Mr. Rosario if some one could stop him +from lunching there to-day. Can't think why they telephoned to me." + +"If Mr. Rosario were lunching with your wife," Arnold pointed out, +"it would be perfectly easy for her to get him to go somewhere else +if she knew of the message, whereas he might have refused an +ordinary warning." + +"You haven't heard the motive even hinted at, I suppose?" Mr. +Weatherley asked. + +"Not as yet," Arnold replied. "That may all come out at the +inquest." + +"To be sure," Mr. Weatherley admitted. "At the inquest--yes, yes! +Poor Rosario!" + +He watched the smoke from his cigar curl up to the ceiling. Then he +turned to some papers on his table. + +"Get your desk in, Chetwode," he ordered, "and then take down some +letters. The American mail goes early this afternoon." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A STRAINED CONVERSATION + + +Arnold swung around the corner of the terrace that evening with +footsteps still eager notwithstanding his long walk. The splendid +egoism of youth had already triumphed, the tragedy of the day had +become a dim thing. He himself was moving forward and onward. He +glanced up at the familiar window, feeling a slight impulse of +disappointment when he received no welcoming wave of the hand. It +was the first time for weeks that Ruth had not been there. He +climbed the five flights of stone stairs, still buoyant and +light-hearted. Glancing into his own room, he found it empty, then +crossed at once the passageway and knocked at Ruth's door. She was +lying back in her chair, with her back toward the window. + +"Why, Ruth," he exclaimed, "how dare you desert your post!" + +He felt at once that there was something strange in her reception of +him. She stopped him as he came across the room, holding out both +her hands. Her wan face was strained as she gazed and gazed. +Something of the beautiful softness of her features had passed for +the moment. She was so anxious, so terrified lest she should +misread what was written in his face. + +"Arnold!" she murmured. "Oh, Arnold!" + +He was a little startled. It was as though tragedy had been let +loose in the room. + +"Why do you look at me like that, dear?" he cried. "Is there +anything so terrible to tell me? What have I done?" + +"God knows!" she answered. "Don't come any nearer for a moment. I +want to look at you." + +She was leaning out from her chair. It was true, indeed, that at +that moment some sort of fear had drained all the beauty from her +face, though her eyes shone still like fierce stars. + +"You have gone, Arnold," she moaned. "You have slipped away. You are +lost to me." + +"You foolish person!" he exclaimed, stepping towards her. "Never in +my life! Never!" + +She laid her hand upon the stick which leaned against her chair. + +"Not yet," she implored. "Don't come to me yet. Stay there where I +can see your face. Now tell me--tell me everything." + +He laughed, not altogether easily, with a note half of resentment, +half of protest. + +"Dear Ruth," he pleaded, "what have I done to deserve this? Nothing +has happened to me that I will not tell you about. You have been +sitting here alone, fancying things. And I have news--great news! +Wait till you hear it." + +"Go on," she said, simply. "Tell me everything. Begin at last +night." + +He drew a little breath. It was, after all, a hard task, this, that +lay before him. Last night in his mind lay far enough back now, a +tangled web of disconnected episodes, linked together by a strangely +sweet emotional thread of sentiment. And the girl was watching his +face with every sense strained to catch his words and the meaning of +them. Vaguely he felt his danger, even from the first. + +"Well, I got there in plenty of time," he began. "It was a beautiful +house, beautifully furnished and arranged. The people were queer, +not at all the sort I expected. Most of them seemed half foreign. +They were all very hard to place for such a respectable household as +Mr. Weatherley's should be." + +"They were not really, then, Mr. Weatherley's friends?" she asked +quietly. + +"As a matter of fact, they were not," he admitted. "That may have +had something to do with it. Mrs. Weatherley was a foreigner. She +came from a little island somewhere in the Mediterranean, and is +half Portuguese. Most of the people were there apparently by her +invitation. After dinner--such a dinner, Ruth--we played bridge. +More people came then. I think there were eight tables altogether. +After I left, most of them stayed on to play baccarat." + +Her eyes still held his. Her expression was unchanged. + +"Tell me about Mrs. Weatherley," she murmured. + +"She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She is pale and +she has strange brown eyes, not really brown but lighter. I couldn't +tell you the color for I've never seen anything else like it. And +she has real red-brown hair, and she is slim, and she walks like one +of these women one reads about. They say that she is a Comtesse in +her own right but that she never uses the title." + +"And was she kind?" asked Ruth. + +"Very kind indeed. She talked to me quite a good deal and I played +bridge at her table. It seems the most amazing thing in the world +that she should ever have married a man like Samuel Weatherley." + +"Now tell me the rest," she persisted. "Something else has +happened--I am sure of it." + +He dropped his voice a little. The terror was coming into the room. + +"There was a man there named Rosario--a Portuguese Jew and a very +wealthy financier. One reads about him always in the papers. I have +heard of him many times. He negotiates loans for foreign governments +and has a bank of his own. I left him there last night, playing +baccarat. This morning Mr. Weatherley called me into his office and +sent me up to the Milan Restaurant with a strange message. I was to +find Mr. Rosario and to see that he did not lunch there--to send him +away somewhere else, in fact. I didn't understand it, but of course +I went." + +"And what happened?" she demanded. + +He held his breath for a moment. + +"I was to take a table just inside the restaurant," he explained, +"and to tell him directly he entered. I did exactly as I was told, +but it was too late. Rosario was stabbed as he was on the point of +entering the restaurant, within a few yards of where I was sitting." + +She shivered a little, although her general expression was still +unchanged. + +"You mean that he was murdered?" + +"He was killed upon the spot," Arnold declared. + +"By whom?" + +He shook his head. + +"No one knows. The man got away. I bought an evening paper as I came +along and I see they haven't arrested any one yet." + +"Was there a quarrel?" she asked. + +"Nothing of the sort," he replied. "The other man seemed simply to +have run out from somewhere and stabbed him with one thrust. I saw +it all but I was powerless to interfere." + +"You saw the man who did it?" she asked. + +"Only his arm," Arnold answered. "He kept his body twisted around +somehow. It was a blackguardly thing to do." + +"It was horrible!" she murmured. + +There was an interruption. The piece of tattered curtain which +concealed the portion of the room given over to Isaac, and which led +beyond to his sleeping chamber, was flung on one side. Isaac himself +stood there, his black eyes alight with anger. + +"Liar!" he exclaimed. "Liars, both of you!" + +They looked at him without speech, his interruption was so sudden, +so unexpected. The girl had forgotten his presence in the room; +Arnold had never been conscious of it. + +"I tell you that Rosario was a robber of mankind," Isaac cried. "He +was one of those who feed upon the bones of the poor. His place was +in Hell and into Hell he has gone. Honor to the hand which started +him on his journey!" + +"You go too far, Isaac," Arnold protested. "I never heard any +particular harm of the man except that he was immensely wealthy." + +Isaac stretched out his thin hand. His bony forefinger pointed +menacingly towards Arnold. + +"You fool!" he cried. "You brainless creature of brawn and muscle! +You have heard no harm of him save that he was immensely wealthy! +Listen. Bear that sentence in your mind and listen to me, listen +while I tell you a story. A party of travelers was crossing the +desert. They lost their way. One man only had water, heaps of water. +There was enough in his possession for all, enough and to spare. The +sun beat upon their heads, their throats were parched, their lips +were black, they foamed at the mouth. On their knees they begged and +prayed for water; he took not even the trouble to reply. He kept +himself cool and refreshed with his endless supply; he poured it +upon his head, he bathed his lips and drank. So he passed on, and +the people around died, cursing him. Last of all, one who had seen +his wife sob out her last breath in his arms, more terrible still +had heard his little child shriek with agony, clutch at him and pray +for water--he saw the truth, and what power there is above so guided +his arm that he struck. The man paid the just price for his colossal +greed. The vultures plucked his heart out in the desert. So died +Rosario!" + +Arnold shook his head. + +"The cases are not similar, Isaac," he declared. + +"You lie!" Isaac shrieked. "There is not a hair's-breadth of +difference! Rosario earned his wealth in an office hung with costly +pictures; he earned it lounging in ease in a padded chair, earned it +by the monkey tricks of a dishonest brain. Never an honest day's +work did he perform in his life, never a day did he stand in the +market-place where the weaker were falling day by day. In fat +comfort he lived, and he died fittingly on the portals of a +restaurant, the cost of one meal at which would have fed a dozen +starving children. Pity Rosario! Pity his soul, if you will, but not +his dirty body!" + +"The man is dead," Arnold muttered. + +"Dead, and let him rot!" Isaac cried fiercely. "There may be +others!" + +He caught up his cloth cap and, without another word, left the room. +Arnold looked after him curiously, more than a little impressed by +the man's passionate earnestness. Ruth, on the other hand, was +unmoved. + +"Isaac is Isaac," she murmured. "He sees life like that. He would +wear the flesh off his bones preaching against wealth. It is as +though there were some fire inside which consumed him all the time. +When he comes back, he will be calmer." + +But Arnold remained uneasy. Isaac's words, and his attitude of +pent-up fury, had made a singular impression upon him. For those few +moments, the Hyde Park demagogue with his frothy vaporings existed +no longer. It seemed to Arnold as though a flash of the real fire +had suddenly blazed into the room. + +"If Isaac goes about the world like that, trouble will come of it," +he said thoughtfully. "Have you ever heard him speak of Rosario +before?" + +"Never," she answered. "I have heard him talk like that, though, +often. To me it sounds like the waves beating upon the shores. They +may rage as furiously, or ripple as softly as the tides can bring +them,--it makes no difference ... I want you to go on, please. I +want you to finish telling me--your news." + +Arnold looked away from the closed door. He looked back again into +the girl's face. There was still that appearance of strained +attention about her mouth and eyes. + +"You are right," he admitted. "These things, after all, are terrible +enough, but they are like the edge of a storm from which one has +found shelter. Isaac ought to realize it." + +"Tell me what this is which has happened to you!" she begged. + +He shook himself free from that cloud of memories. He gave himself +up instead to the joy of telling her his good news. + +"Listen, then," he said. "Mr. Weatherley, in consideration not +altogether, I am afraid, of my clerklike abilities, but of my +shoulders and muscle, has appointed me his private secretary, with a +seat in his office and a salary of three pounds a week. Think of it, +Ruth! Three pounds a week!" + +A smile lightened her face for a moment as she squeezed his fingers. + +"But why?" she asked. "What do you mean about your shoulders and +your muscle?" + +"It is all very mysterious," he declared, "but do you know I believe +Mr. Weatherley is afraid. He shook like a leaf when I told him of +the murder of Rosario. I believe he thinks that there was some sort +of blackmailing plot and he is afraid that something of the kind +might happen to him. My instructions are never to leave his office, +especially if he is visited by any strangers." + +"It sounds absurd," she remarked. "I should have thought that of all +the commonplace, unimaginative people you have ever described to me, +Mr. Weatherley was supreme." + +"And I," Arnold agreed. "And so, in a way, he is. It is his +marriage which seems to have transformed him--I feel sure of that. +He is mixing now with people whose manners and ways of thinking are +entirely strange to him. He has had the world he knew of kicked from +beneath his feet, and is hanging on instead to the fringe of +another, of which he knows very little." + +Ruth was silent. All the time Arnold was conscious that she was +watching him. He turned his head. Her mouth was once more set and +strained, a delicate streak of scarlet upon the pallor of her face, +but from the fierce questioning of her eyes there was no escape. + +"What is it you want to know that I have not told you, Ruth?" he +asked. + +"Tell me what happened to you last night!" + +He laughed boisterously, but with a flagrant note of insincerity. + +"Haven't I been telling you all the time?" + +"You've kept something back," she panted, gripping his fingers +frantically, "the greatest thing. Speak about it. Anything is better +than this silence. Don't you remember your promise before you +went--you would tell me everything--everything! Well?" + +Her words pierced the armor of his own self-deceit. The bare room +seemed suddenly full of glowing images of Fenella. His face was +transfigured. + +"I haven't told you very much about Mrs. Weatherley," he said, +simply. "She is very wonderful and very beautiful. She was very kind +to me, too." + +Ruth leaned forward in her chair; her eyes read what she strove yet +hated to see. She threw herself suddenly back, covering her face +with her hands. The strain was over. She began to weep. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR + + +Mr. Weatherley laid down his newspaper with a grunt. He was alone in +his private office with his newly appointed secretary. + +"Two whole days gone already and they've never caught that fellow!" +he exclaimed. "They don't seem to have a clue, even." + +Arnold looked up from some papers upon which he was engaged. + +"We can't be absolutely sure of that, sir," he reminded his +employer. "They wouldn't give everything away to the Press." + +Mr. Weatherley threw the newspaper which he had been reading onto +the floor, and struck the table with his fist. + +"The whole affair," he declared, "is scandalous--perfectly +scandalous. The police system of this country is ridiculously +inadequate. Scotland Yard ought to be thoroughly overhauled. Some +one should take the matter up--one of the ha'penny papers on the +lookout for a sensation might manage it. Just see here what +happens," he went on earnestly. "A man is murdered in cold blood in +a fashionable restaurant. The murderer simply walks out of the +place into the street and no one hears of him again. He can't have +been swallowed up, can he? You were there, Chetwode. What do you +think of it?" + +Arnold, who had been thinking of little else for the last few days, +shook his head. + +"I don't know what to think, sir," he admitted, "except that the +murderer up till now has been extraordinarily lucky." + +"Either that or he was fiendishly clever," Mr. Weatherley agreed, +pulling nervously at his little patch of gray sidewhiskers. "I +wonder, now--you've read the case, Chetwode?" + +"Every word of it," Arnold admitted. + +"Have you formed any idea yourself as to the motive?" Mr. Weatherley +asked nervously. + +Arnold shook his head. + +"At present there seems nothing to go on, sir," he remarked. "I did +hear it said that some one was trying to blackmail him and Mr. +Rosario wasn't having any." + +Mr. Weatherley pushed his scant hair back with his hand. He appeared +to feel the heat of the office. + +"You've heard that, too, eh?" he muttered. "It occurred to me from +the first, Chetwode. It certainly did occur to me. You will remember +that I mentioned it." + +"What did your brother-in-law think of it, sir?" Arnold asked. "He +and Mr. Rosario seemed to be very great friends. They were talking +together for a long time that night at your house." + +Mr. Weatherley jumped to his feet and threw open the window. The air +which entered the office from the murky street was none of the +best, but he seemed to find it welcome. Arnold was shocked to see +his face when he turned around. + +"The Count Sabatini is a very extraordinary man," Mr. Weatherley +confessed. "He and his friends come to my house, but to tell you the +truth I don't know much about them. Mrs. Weatherley wishes to have +them there and that is quite enough for me. All the same, I don't +feel that they're exactly the sort of people I've been used to, +Chetwode, and that's a fact." + +Mr. Weatherley had resumed his seat. He was leaning back in his +chair now, his hands drooping to his side, looking precisely what he +was--an ungraceful, commonplace little person, without taste or +culture, upon whom even a good tailor seemed to have wasted +his efforts. A certain pomposity which in a way became the +man--proclaimed his prosperity and redeemed him from complete +insignificance--had for a moment departed. He was like a pricked +bladder. Arnold could scarcely help feeling sorry for him. + +"I shouldn't allow these things to worry me, if I were you, sir," +Arnold suggested respectfully. "If there is anything which you don't +understand, I should ask for an explanation. Mrs. Weatherley is much +too kind and generous to wish you to be worried, I am sure." + +Then the side of the man with which Arnold wholly sympathized showed +itself suddenly. At the mention of his wife's name an expression +partly fatuous, partly beatific, transformed his homely features. He +was looking at her picture which stood always opposite him. He had +the air of an adoring devotee before some sacred shrine. + +"You are quite right, Chetwode," he declared, "quite right, but I +am always very careful not to let my wife know how I feel. You see, +the Count Sabatini is her only relative, and before our marriage +they were inseparable. He was an exile from Portugal and it seems to +me these foreigners hang on together more than we do. I am only too +glad for her to be with him as much as she chooses. It is just a +little unfortunate that his friends should sometimes be--well, a +trifle distasteful, but--one must put up with it. One must put up +with it, eh? After all, Rosario was a man very well spoken of. There +was no reason why he shouldn't have come to my house. Plenty of +other men in my position would have been glad to have entertained +him." + +"Certainly, sir," agreed Arnold. "I believe he went a great deal +into society." + +"And, no doubt," Mr. Weatherley continued, eagerly, "he had many +enemies. In the course of his commercial career, which I believe was +an eventful one, he would naturally make enemies.... By the bye, +Chetwode, speaking of blackmail--that blackmail rumor, eh? You don't +happen to have heard any particulars?" + +"None at all, sir," replied Arnold. "I don't suppose anything is +really known. It seems a probable solution of the affair, though." + +Mr. Weatherley nodded thoughtfully. + +"It does," he admitted. "I can quite imagine any one trying it on +and Rosario defying him. Just the course which would commend itself +to such a man." + +"The proper course, no doubt," Arnold remarked, "although it +scarcely turned out the best for poor Mr. Rosario." + +Mr. Weatherley distinctly shivered. + +"Well, well," he declared, "you had better take out those invoices, +and ask Jarvis to see me at once about Budden & Williams' +account.... God bless my soul alive, why, here's Mrs. Weatherley!" + +A car had stopped outside and both men had caught a vision of a +fur-clad feminine figure crossing the pavement. Mr. Weatherley's +fingers, busy already with his tie, were trembling with excitement. +His whole appearance was transformed. + +"Hurry out and meet her, Chetwode!" he exclaimed. "Show her the way +in! This is the first time in her life she has been here of her own +accord. Just as we were speaking about her, too!" + +Fenella entered the office as a princess shod in satin might enter a +pigsty. Her ermine-trimmed gown was raised with both her hands, her +delightful nose had a distinct tilt and her lips a curl. But when +she saw Arnold, a wonderful smile transformed her face. She was in +the middle of the clerk's office, the cynosure of twenty-four +staring eyes, but she dropped her gown and held out both her +delicately gloved hands. The fall of her skirts seemed to shake out +strange perfumes into the stuffy room. + +"Ah! you are really here, then, in this odious gloom? You will show +me where I can find my husband?" + +Arnold stepped back and threw open the door of the inner office. She +laughed into his face. + +"Do not go away," she ordered. "Come in with me. I want to thank you +for looking after me the other day." + +Arnold murmured a few words of excuse and turned away. Mr. Tidey +Junior carefully arranged his necktie and slipped down from his +stool. + +"Jarvis," he exclaimed, "a free lunch and my lifetime's gratitude if +you'll send me into the governor's office on any pretext whatever!" + +Mr. Jarvis, who was answering the telephone, took off his +gold-rimmed spectacles and wiped them. + +"Some one must go in and say that Mr. Burland, of Harris & Burland, +wishes to know at what time he can see the governor. I think you had +better let Chetwode go, though." + +The young man turned away, humming a tune. + +"Not I!" he replied. "Don't be surprised, you fellows, if I am not +out just yet. The governor's certain to introduce me." + +He knocked at the door confidently and disappeared. In a very few +seconds he was out again. His appearance was not altogether +indicative of conquest. + +"Governor says Burland can go to the devil, or words to that +effect," he announced, ill-naturedly. "Chetwode, you're to take in +the private cheque book.... I tell you what, Jarvis," he added, +slowly resuming his stool, "the governor's not himself these days. +The least he could have done would have been to introduce me, +especially as he's been up at our place so often. Rotten form, I +call it. Anyway, she's not nearly so good-looking close to." + +Mr. Jarvis proceeded to inform the inquirer through the telephone +that Mr. Weatherley was unfortunately not to be found at the moment. +Arnold, with Mr. Weatherley's cheque book in his hand, knocked at +the door of the private office and closed the door carefully behind +him. As he stood upon the threshold, his heart gave a sudden leap. +Mr. Weatherley was sitting in his accustomed chair, but his attitude +and expression were alike unusual. He was like a man shrinking under +the whip. And Fenella--he was quick enough to catch the look in her +face, the curl of her lips, the almost wicked flash of her eyes. Yet +in a moment she was laughing. + +"Your cheque book, Mr. Weatherley," he remarked, laying it down upon +the desk. + +Mr. Weatherley barely thanked him--barely, indeed, seemed to realize +Arnold's presence. The latter turned to go. Fenella, however, +intervened. + +"Don't go away, if you please, Mr. Chetwode," she begged. "My +husband is angry with me and I am a little frightened. And all +because I have asked him to help a very good friend of mine who is +in need of money to help forward a splendid cause." + +Arnold was embarrassed. He glanced doubtfully at Mr. Weatherley, who +was fingering his cheque book. + +"It is scarcely a matter for discussion--" his employer began, but +Fenella threw out her hands. + +"Oh! la, la!" she interrupted. "Don't bore me so, my dear Samuel, or +I will come to this miserable place no more. Mr. Starling must have +this five hundred pounds because I have promised him, and because I +have promised my brother that he shall have it. It is most +important, and if all goes well it will come back to you some day or +other. If not, you must make up your mind to lose it. Please write +out the cheque, and afterwards Mr. Chetwode is to take me out to +lunch. Andrea asked me especially to bring him, and if we do not go +soon," she added, consulting a little jeweled watch upon her wrist, +"we shall be late. Andrea does not like to be kept waiting." + +"I was hoping," Mr. Weatherley remarked, with an unwieldy attempt +at jocularity, "that I might be asked out to luncheon myself." + +"Another day, my dear husband," she promised carelessly. "You know +that you and Andrea do not agree very well. You bore him so much and +then he is irritable. I do not like Andrea when he is irritable. +Give me my cheque, dear, and let me go." + +Mr. Weatherley dipped his pen in the ink, solemnly wrote out a +cheque and tore it from the book. Fenella, who had risen to her feet +and was standing over him with her hand upon his shoulder, stuffed +it carelessly into the gold purse which she was carrying. Then she +patted him on the cheek with her gloved hand. + +"Don't overwork," she said, "and come home punctually. Are you quite +ready, Mr. Chetwode?" + +Arnold, who was finding the position more than ever embarrassing, +turned to his employer. + +"Can you spare me, sir?" he asked. + +Mr. Weatherley nodded. + +"If my wife desires you to go, certainly," he replied. "But +Fenella," he added, "I am not very busy myself. Is it absolutely +necessary that you lunch with your brother? Perhaps, even if it is, +he can put up with my society for once." + +She threw a kiss to him from the door. + +"Unreasonable person!" she exclaimed. "To-day it is absolutely +necessary that I lunch with Andrea. You must go to your club if you +are not busy, and play billiards or something. Come, Mr. Chetwode," +she added, turning towards the door, "we have barely a quarter of an +hour to get to the Carlton. I dare not be late. The only person," +she went on, as they passed through the outer office and Arnold +paused for a moment to take down his hat and coat, "whom I really +fear in this world is Andrea." + +Mr. Weatherley remained for a moment in the chair where she had left +him, gazing idly at the counterfoil of the cheque. Then he rose and +from a safe point of vantage watched the car drive off. With slow, +leaden footsteps he returned to his seat. It was past his own +regular luncheon hour, but he made no movement to leave the place. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +AN INTERRUPTED LUNCHEON + + +The great car swung to the right, out of Tooley Street and joined +the stream of traffic making its slow way across London Bridge. +Fenella took the tube from its place by her side and spoke in +Italian to the chauffeur. When she replaced it, she turned to +Arnold. + +"Do you understand what I said?" she asked. + +"Only a word or two," he replied. "You told him to go somewhere else +instead of to the Carlton, didn't you?" + +She nodded, and lay back for a moment, silent, among the luxurious +cushions. Her mood seemed suddenly to have changed. She was no +longer gay. She watched the faces of the passers-by pensively. +Presently she pointed out of the window to a gray-bearded old man +tottering along in the gutter with a trayful of matches. A cold wind +was blowing through his rags. + +"Look!" she exclaimed. "Look at that! In my own country, yes, but +here I do not understand. They tell me that this is the richest city +in the world, and the most charitable." + +"There must be poor everywhere," Arnold replied, a little puzzled. + +She stared at him. + +"It is not your laws I would complain of," she said. "It is your +individuals. Look at him--a poor, shivering, starved creature, +watching a constant stream of well-fed, well-clothed, smug men of +business, passing always within a few feet of him. Why does he not +help himself to what he wants?" + +"How can he?" Arnold asked. "There is a policeman within a few yards +of him. The law stands always in the way." + +"The law!" she repeated, scornfully. "It is a pleasant word, that, +which you use. The law is the artificial bogey made by the men who +possess to keep those others in the gutter. And they tell me that +there are half a million of them in London--and they suffer--like +that. Could your courts of justice hold half a million law-breakers +who took an overcoat from a better clad man, or the price of a meal +from a sleek passer-by, or bread from the shop which taunted their +hunger? They do not know their strength, those who suffer." + +Arnold looked at her in sheer amazement. It was surely a strange +woman who spoke! There was no sympathy in her face or tone. The idea +of giving alms to the man seemed never to have occurred to her. She +spoke with clouded face, as one in anger. + +"Don't you believe," he asked, "in the universal principle, the +survival of the fittest? Where there is wealth there must be +poverty." + +She laughed. + +"Change your terms," she suggested; "where there are robbers there +must be victims. But one may despise the victims all the same. One +may find their content, or rather their inaction, ignoble." + +"Generally speaking, it is the industrious who prosper," he +affirmed. + +She shook her head. + +"If that were so, all would be well," she declared. "As a matter of +fact, it is entirely an affair of opportunity and temperament." + +"Why, you are a socialist," he said. "You should come and talk to my +friend Isaac." + +"I am not a socialist because I do not care one fig about others," +she objected. "It is only myself I think of." + +"If you do not sympathize with laws, you at least recognize morals?" + +She laughed gayly, leaning back against the dark green upholstery +and showing her flawless teeth; her long, narrow eyes with their +seductive gleam flashed into his. A lighter spirit possessed her. + +"Not other people's," she declared. "I have my own code and I live +by it. As for you,--" + +She paused. Her sudden fit of gayety seemed to pass. + +"As for me?" he murmured. + +"I am a little conscience-stricken," she said slowly. "I think I +ought to have left you where you were. I am not at all sure that you +would not have been happier. You are a very nice boy, Mr. Arnold +Chetwode, much too good for that stuffy little office in Tooley +Street, but I do not know whether it is really for your good if one +is inclined to try and help you to escape. If you saw another man +holding a position you wanted yourself, would you throw him out, if +you could, by sheer force, or would you think of your laws and your +morals?" + +"It depends a little upon how much I wanted it," he confessed. + +She laughed. + +"Ah! I see, then, that there are hopes of you," she admitted. "You +should read the reign of Queen Elizabeth if you would know what +Englishmen should be like. You know, I had an English mother, and +she was descended from Francis Drake.... Ah, we are arrived!" + +They had lost themselves somewhere between Oxford Street and Regent +Street. The car pulled up in front of a restaurant which Arnold had +certainly never seen or heard of before. It was quite small, and it +bore the name "Café André" painted upon the wall. The lower windows +were all concealed by white curtains. The entrance hall was small, +and there was no commissionnaire. Fenella, who led the way in, did +not turn into the restaurant but at once ascended the stairs. Arnold +followed her, his sense of curiosity growing stronger at every +moment. On the first landing there were two doors with glass tops. +She opened one and motioned him to enter. + +"Will you wait for me for a few moments?" she said. "I am going to +telephone." + +He entered at once. She turned and passed into the room on the other +side of the landing. Arnold glanced around him with some curiosity. +The room was well appointed and a luncheon table was laid for four +people. There were flowers upon the table, and the glass and cutlery +were superior to anything one might have expected from a restaurant +in this vicinity. The window looked down into the street. Arnold +stood before it for a moment or two. The traffic below was +insignificant, but the roar of Oxford Street, only a few yards +distant, came to his ears even through the closed window. He +listened thoughtfully, and then, before he realized the course his +thoughts were taking, he found himself thinking of Ruth. In a +certain sense he was superstitious about Ruth and her forebodings. +He found himself wondering what she would have said if she could +have seen him there and known that it was Fenella who had brought +him. And he himself--what did he think of it? A week ago, his life +had been so commonplace that his head and his heart had ached with +the monotony of it. And now Fenella had come and had shown him +already strange things. He seemed to have passed into a world where +mysterious happenings were an every-day occurrence, into a world +peopled by strange men and women who always carried secrets about +with them. And, in a sense, no one was more mysterious than Fenella +herself. He asked himself as he stood there whether her vagaries +were merely temperamental, the air of mystery which seemed to +surround her simply accidental. He thought of that night at her +house, the curious intimacy which from the first moment she had +seemed to take for granted, the confidence with which she had +treated him. He remembered those few breathless moments in her room, +the man's hand upon the window-sill, with the strange colored ring, +worn with almost flagrant ostentation. And then, with a +lightning-like transition of thought, the gleam of the hand with +that self-same ring, raised to strike a murderous blow, which he had +seen for a moment through the doors of the Milan. The red seal ring +upon the finger--what did it mean? A doubt chilled him for a moment. +He told himself with passionate insistence, that it was not possible +that she could know of these things. Her words were idle, her +theories a jest. He turned away from the window and caught up a +morning paper, resolved to escape from his thoughts. The first +headline stared up at him: + + THE ROSARIO MURDER. + SENSATIONAL ARREST EXPECTED. + RUMORED EXTRAORDINARY DISCLOSURES. + +He threw the paper down again. Then the door was suddenly opened, +and Fenella appeared. She rang a bell. + +"I am going to order luncheon," she announced. "My brother will be +here directly." + +Arnold bowed, a little absently. Against his will, he was listening +to voices on the landing outside. One he knew to be Starling's, the +other was Count Sabatini's. He closed his ears to their speech, but +there was no doubt whatever that the voice of Starling shook with +fear. A moment or two later the two men entered the room. Count +Sabatini came forward with outstretched hand. A rare smile parted +his lips. He looked a very distinguished and very polished +gentleman. + +"I am pleased to meet you again, Mr. Chetwode," he said, "the more +pleased because I understand from my sister that we are to have the +pleasure of your company for luncheon." + +"You are very kind," Arnold murmured. + +"Mr. Starling--I believe that you met the other night," Count +Sabatini continued. + +Arnold held out his hand but could scarcely repress a start. +Starling seemed to have lost weight. His cheeks were almost +cadaverous, his eyes hollow. His slight arrogance of bearing had +gone; he gave one a most unpleasant impression. + +"I remember Mr. Starling quite well," Arnold said. "We met also, I +think, at the Milan Hotel, a few minutes after the murder of Mr. +Rosario." + +Starling shook hands limply. Sabatini smiled. + +"A memorable occasion," he remarked. "Let us take luncheon now. +Gustave," he added, turning to the waiter who had just entered the +room, "serve the luncheon at once. It is a queer little place, this, +Mr. Chetwode," he went on, turning to Arnold, "but I can promise you +that the omelette, at least, is as served in my own country." + +They took their places at the table, and Arnold, at any rate, found +it a very pleasant party. Sabatini was no longer gloomy and +taciturn. His manner still retained a little of its deliberation, +but towards Arnold especially he was more than courteous. He seemed, +indeed, to have the desire to attract. Fenella was almost +bewitching. She had recovered her spirits, and she talked to him +often in a half audible undertone, the familiarity of which gave him +a curious pleasure. Starling alone was silent and depressed. He +drank a good deal, but ate scarcely anything. Every passing footstep +upon the stairs outside alarmed him; every time voices were heard he +stopped to listen. Sabatini glanced towards him once with a scornful +flash in his black eyes. + +"One would imagine, my dear Starling, that you had committed a +crime!" he exclaimed. + +Starling raised his glass to his lips with shaking fingers, and +drained its contents. + +"I had too much champagne last night," he muttered. + +There was a moment's silence. Every one felt his statement to be a +lie. For some reason or other, the man was afraid. Arnold was +conscious of a sense of apprehension stealing over him. The touch of +Fenella's fingers upon his arm left him, for a moment, cold. +Sabatini turned his head slowly towards the speaker, and his face +had become like the face of an inquisitor, stern and merciless, with +the flavor of death in the cold, mirthless parting of the lips. + +"Then you drank a very bad brand, my friend," he declared. "Still, +even then, the worst champagne in the world should not give you +those ugly lines under the eyes, the scared appearance of a hunted +rabbit. One would imagine--" + +Starling struck the table a blow with his fist which set the glasses +jingling. + +"D--n it, stop, Sabatini!" he exclaimed. "Do you want to--" + +He broke off abruptly. He looked towards Arnold. He was breathing +heavily. His sudden fit of passion had brought an unwholesome flush +of color to his cheeks. + +"Why should I stop?" Sabatini proceeded, mercilessly. "Let me remind +you of my sister's presence. Your lack of self-control is +inexcusable. One would imagine that you had committed some evil +deed, that you were indeed an offender against the law." + +Again there was that tense silence. Starling looked around him with +the helpless air of a trapped animal. Arnold sat there, listening +and watching, completely fascinated. There was something which made +him shiver about the imperturbability, not only of Sabatini himself, +but of the woman who sat by his side. + +Sabatini poured himself out a glass of wine deliberately. + +"Who in the world," he demanded, "save a few unwholesome +sentimentalists, would consider the killing of Rosario a crime?" + +Starling staggered to his feet. His cheeks now were ashen. + +"You are mad!" he cried, pointing to Arnold. + +"Not in the least," Sabatini proceeded calmly. "I am not accusing +you of having killed Rosario. In any case, it would have been a +perfectly reasonable and even commendable deed. One can scarcely +understand your agitation. If you are really accused of having been +concerned in that little contretemps, why, here is our friend Mr. +Arnold Chetwode, who was present. No doubt he will be able to give +evidence in your favor." + +Arnold was speechless for a moment. Sabatini's manner was +incomprehensible. He spoke as one who alludes to some trivial +happening. Yet even his light words could not keep the shadow of +tragedy from the room. Even at that instant Arnold seemed suddenly +to see the flash of a hand through the glass-topped door, to hear +the hoarse cry of the stricken man. + +"I saw nothing but the man's hand!" he muttered, in a voice which he +would scarcely have recognized as his own. "I saw his hand and his +arm only. He wore a red signet ring." + +Sabatini inclined his head in an interested manner. + +"A singular coincidence," he remarked, pleasantly. "My sister has +already told me of your observation. It certainly is a point in +favor of our friend Starling. It sounds like the badge of some +secret society, and not even the most ardent romanticist would +suspect our friend Starling here of belonging to anything of the +sort." + +Starling had resumed his luncheon, and was making a great effort +at a show of indifference. Nevertheless, he watched Arnold uneasily. + +"Say, there's no sense in talking like this!" he muttered. "Mr. +Chetwode here will think you're in earnest." + +"There is, on the contrary, a very great deal of sound common +sense," Sabatini asserted, gently, "in all that I have said. I want +our young friend, Mr. Chetwode, to be a valued witness for the +defense when the misguided gentlemen from Scotland Yard choose to +lay a hand upon your shoulder. One should always be prepared, my +friend, for possibilities. You great--" + +He stopped short. Starling, with a smothered oath, had sprung to his +feet. The eyes of every one were turned toward the wall; a small +electric bell was ringing violently. For the next few moments, +events marched swiftly. Starling, with incredible speed, had left +the room by the inner door. A waiter had suddenly appeared as though +by magic, and of the fourth place at table there seemed to be left +no visible signs. All the time, Sabatini, unmoved, continued to roll +his cigarette. Then there came a tapping at the door. + + [Illustration: The eyes of every one were turned toward the wall. + _Page 97_.] + +"See who is there," Sabatini instructed the waiter. + +Gustave, his napkin in his hand, threw open the door. A young man +presented himself--a person of ordinary appearance, with a notebook +sticking out of his pocket. His eyes seemed to take in at once the +little party. He advanced a few steps into the room. + +"You are perhaps not aware, sir," Sabatini said gently, "that this +is a private apartment." + +The young man bowed. + +"I must apologize for my intrusion, sir and madame," he declared, +looking towards Fenella. "I am a reporter on the staff of the +_Daily Unit_, and I am exceedingly anxious to interview--you will +pardon me!" + +With a sudden swift movement he crossed the room, passed into the +inner apartment and disappeared. Sabatini rose to his feet. + +"I propose," he said, "that we complain to the proprietor of this +excitable young journalist, and take our coffee in the palm court at +the Carlton." + +Fenella also rose and stepped in front of the looking-glass. + +"It is good," she declared. "I stay with you for one half hour. +Afterwards I have a bridge party. You will come with us, Mr. +Chetwode?" + +Arnold did not at once reply. He was gazing at the inner door. Every +moment he expected to hear--what? It seemed to him that tragedy was +there, the greatest tragedy of all--the hunting of man! Sabatini +yawned. + +"Those others," he declared, "must settle their own little +differences. After all, it is not our affair." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +JARVIS IS JUSTLY DISTURBED + + +It was fully half-past three before Arnold found himself back in +Tooley Street. He hung up his coat and hat and was preparing to +enter Mr. Weatherley's room when the chief clerk saw him. Mr. Jarvis +had been standing outside, superintending the unloading of several +dray loads of American bacon. He laid his hand upon Arnold's +shoulder. + +"One moment, Chetwode," he said. "I want to speak to you out here." + +Arnold followed him to a retired part of the warehouse. Mr. Jarvis +leaned against an old desk belonging to one of the porters. + +"You are very late, Chetwode," he remarked. + +"I am sorry, but I was detained," Arnold answered. "I will explain +it to Mr. Weatherley directly I go in." + +Mr. Jarvis coughed. + +"Of course," he said, "as you went out with Mrs. Weatherley I +suppose it's none of my business as to your hours, but you must know +that to come back from lunch at half-past three is most irregular, +especially as you are practically junior in the place." + +"I quite agree with you," Arnold assented, "but, you see, I really +couldn't help myself to-day. I don't suppose it is likely to happen +again. Is that all that you wanted to speak to me about?" + +"Not altogether," Mr. Jarvis admitted. "To tell you the truth," he +went on, confidentially, "I wanted to ask you a question or two." + +"Well, look sharp, then," Arnold said, good-humoredly. "I dare say +Mr. Weatherley will be getting impatient, and he probably saw me +come in." + +"I want to ask you," Mr. Jarvis began, impressively, "whether you +noticed anything peculiar about the governor's manner this morning?" + +"I don't think so--not especially," Arnold replied. + +Mr. Jarvis took off his gold-rimmed spectacles and wiped them +carefully. + +"Mr. Weatherley," he proceeded, "has always been a gentleman of very +regular habits--he and his father before him. I have been in the +service of the firm for thirty-five years, Mr. Chetwode, so you can +understand that my interest is not merely a business one." + +"Quite so," Arnold agreed, glancing at the man by his side with a +momentary curiosity. He had been in Tooley Street for four months, +and even now he was still unused to the close atmosphere, the +pungent smells, the yellow fog which seemed always more or less to +hang about in the streets; the dark, cavernous-looking warehouse +with its gloomy gas-jets always burning. From where they were +standing at that moment, the figures of the draymen and warehousemen +moving backwards and forwards seemed like phantoms in some +subterranean world. It was odd to think of thirty-five years spent +amid such surroundings! + +"It is a long time," he remarked. + +Mr. Jarvis nodded. + +"I mention it," he said, "so that you may understand that my +remarks to you are not dictated by curiosity or impertinence. Mr. +Weatherley's behavior and mode of life has been entirely changed, +Chetwode, since his marriage." + +"I can understand that," Arnold replied, with a faint smile. What, +indeed, had so beautiful a creature as Fenella to do with Samuel +Weatherley of Tooley Street! + +"Mrs. Weatherley," Mr. Jarvis continued, "is, no doubt, a very +beautiful and accomplished lady. Whether she is a suitable wife for +Mr. Weatherley I am not in a position to judge, never having had the +opportunity of speech with her, but as regards the effect of his +marriage upon Mr. Weatherley, I should like you to understand, +Chetwode, at once, that it is my opinion, and the opinion of all of +us, and of all his business friends, that a marked change for the +worse in Mr. Weatherley has set in during the last few months." + +"I am sorry to hear it," Arnold interposed. + +"You, of course," Mr. Jarvis went on, "could scarcely have noticed +it, as you have been here so short a time, but I can assure you that +a year or so ago the governor was a different person altogether. He +was out in the warehouse half the morning, watching the stuff being +unloaded, sampling it, and suggesting customers. He took a live +interest in the business, Chetwode. He was here, there and +everywhere. To-day--for the last few weeks, indeed--he has scarcely +left his office. He sits there, signs a few letters, listens to what +I have to say, and goodness knows how he spends the rest of his +time. Where the business would be," Mr. Jarvis continued, rubbing +his chin thoughtfully, "if it were not for us who know the running +of it so well, I can't say, but a fact it is that Mr. Weatherley +seems to have lost all interest in it." + +"I wonder he doesn't retire," Arnold suggested. + +Mr. Jarvis looked at him in amazement. + +"Retire!" he exclaimed. "Why should he retire? What would he do? +Isn't it as comfortable for him to read his newspaper over the fire +in the office here as at home? Isn't it better for him to have his +friends all around him, as he has here, than to sit up in his +drawing-room in business hours with never a soul to speak to? Such +men as Mr. Weatherley, Chetwode, or as Mr. Weatherley's father was, +don't retire. If they do, it means the end." + +"Well, I'm sorry to hear what you tell me," Arnold said. "I haven't +seen much of Mr. Weatherley, of course, but he seems devoted to his +wife." + +"Infatuated, sir! Infatuated is the word!" Mr. Jarvis declared. + +"She is very charming," Arnold remarked, thoughtfully. + +Mr. Jarvis looked as though there were many things which he could +have said but refrained from saying. + +"You will not suggest, Chetwode," he asked, "that she married Mr. +Weatherley for any other reason than because he was a rich man?" + +Arnold was silent for a moment. Somehow or other, he had accepted +the fact of her being Mrs. Weatherley without thinking much as to +its significance. + +"I suppose," he admitted, "that Mr. Weatherley's money was an +inducement." + +"There is never anything but evil," Mr. Jarvis declared, "comes from +a man or a woman marrying out of their own circle of friends. Now +Mr. Weatherley might have married a dozen ladies from his own circle +here. One I know of, a very handsome lady, too, whose father has +been Lord Mayor. And then there's young Tidey's sisters, in the +office there. Any one of them would have been most suitable. But no! +Some unlucky chance seems to have sent Mr. Weatherley on that +continental journey, and when you once get away from England, why, +of course, anything may happen. I don't wish to say anything against +Mrs. Weatherley, mind," Mr. Jarvis continued, "but she comes from +the wrong class of people to make a city man a good wife, and I +can't help associating her and her friends and her manner of living +with the change that's come over Mr. Weatherley." + +Arnold swung himself up on to the top of a barrel and sat looking +down at his companion. + +"Mr. Jarvis," he said, "you and I see this matter, naturally, from +very different standpoints. You have known Mr. Weatherley for +thirty-five years. I have known him for four months, and he never +spoke a word to me until a few days ago. Practically, therefore, I +have known Mr. and Mrs. Weatherley the same length of time. Under +the circumstances, I must tell you frankly that my sympathies are +with Mrs. Weatherley. Not only have I found her a very charming +woman, but she has been most unnecessarily kind to me." + +Mr. Jarvis was silent for a moment. + +"I had forgotten," he admitted, "that that might be your point of +view. It isn't, of course, possible to look for any feeling of +loyalty for the chief from any one who has only been here a matter +of a few months. Perhaps I was wrong to have spoken to you at all, +Chetwode." + +"If there is anything I can do," Arnold began,-- + +"It's in this way," Mr. Jarvis interrupted. "Owing, I dare say, to +Mrs. Weatherley, you have certainly been put in a unique position +here. You see more of Mr. Weatherley now than any one of us. For +that reason I was anxious to make a confidant of you. I tell you +that I am worried about Mr. Weatherley. He is a rich man and a +prosperous man. There is no reason why he should sit in his office +and gaze into the fire and look out of the window as though the +place were full of shadows and he hated the sight of them. Yet that +is what he does nowadays, Chetwode. What does it mean? I ask you +frankly. Haven't you noticed yourself that his behavior is +peculiar?" + +"Now you mention it," Arnold replied, "I certainly have noticed that +he was very strange in his manner this morning. He seemed very upset +about that Rosario murder. Mr. Rosario was at his house the other +night, you know. Were they great friends, do you think?" + +Mr. Jarvis shook his head. + +"Not at all," he said. "He was simply, I believe, one of Mrs. +Weatherley's society acquaintances. But that there's something gone +wrong with Mr. Weatherley, no one would deny who sees him as he is +now and knows him as he was a year or so ago. There's Johnson, the +foreman packer, who's been here as long as I have; and Elwick, the +carter; and Hümmel, in the export department;--we've all been +talking together about this." + +"He doesn't speculate, I suppose?" Arnold enquired. + +"Not a ha'penny," Mr. Jarvis replied, fervently. "He has spent large +sums of money since his marriage, but he can afford it. It isn't +money that's worrying him." + +"Perhaps he doesn't hit it off with his wife," Arnold remarked. + +Mr. Jarvis drew a little breath. For a moment he was speechless. To +him it seemed something like profanity that this young man should +make so casual a suggestion. + +"Mrs. Weatherley, sir," he declared, "was, I believe, without any +means whatever when Mr. Weatherley made her his wife. Mr. +Weatherley, as you know, is at the head of this house, the house of +Samuel Weatherley & Co., bankers Lloyds. It should be the business +of the lady, sir, to see that she hits it off, as you put it, with a +husband who has done her so much honor." + +Arnold smiled. + +"That is all very well, Mr. Jarvis," he said, "but you must remember +that Mrs. Weatherley had compensations for her lack of wealth. She +is very beautiful, and she is, too, of a different social rank." + +Mr. Jarvis was frankly scornful. + +"Why, she was a foreigner," he declared. "I should like to know of +what account any foreign family is against our good city firms, such +as I have been speaking of. No, Chetwode, my opinion is that she's +brought a lot of her miserable, foreign hangers-on over here, and +that somehow or other they are worrying Mr. Weatherley. I should +like, if I could, to interest you in the chief. You can't be +expected to feel as I do towards him. At the same time, he is the +head of the firm, and you are bound, therefore, to feel a certain +respect due to him, and I thought that if I talked to you and put +these matters before you, which have occurred not only to me but to +those others who have been with Mr. Weatherley for so many years, +you might be able to help us by watching, and if you can find any +clue as to what is bothering him, why, I'd be glad to hear of it, +for there isn't one of us who wouldn't do anything that lay in his +power to have the master back once more as he used to be a few years +ago. Why, the business seems to have lost all its spring, nowadays," +Mr. Jarvis went on, mournfully. "We do well, of course, because we +couldn't help doing well, but we plod along more like a machine. It +was different altogether in the days when Mr. Weatherley used to +bring out the morning orders himself and chaff us about selling for +no profit. You follow me, Chetwode?" + +"I'll do what I can," Arnold agreed. "Of course, I see your point of +view, and I must admit that the governor does seem depressed about +something or other." + +"If anything turns up," Mr. Jarvis asked eagerly, "anything +tangible, I mean, you'll tell me of it, won't you, there's a good +fellow? Of course, I suppose your future is outside my control now, +but I engaged you first, you know, Chetwode. There aren't many +things done here that I haven't a say in." + +"You may rely upon me," Arnold promised, slipping down from the +barrel. "He's really quite a decent old chap, and if I can find out +what's worrying him, and can help, I'll do it." + +Mr. Jarvis went back to his labors and Arnold made his way to Mr. +Weatherley's room. His first knock remained unanswered. The "Come +in!" which procured for him admittance at his second attempt sounded +both flurried and startled. Mr. Weatherley had the air of one who +has been engaged in some criminal task. He drew the blotting-paper +over the letter which he had been writing as Arnold entered. + +"Oh! it's you, is it, Chetwode?" he remarked, with an air of +relief. "So you're back, eh? Pleasant luncheon?" + +"Very pleasant indeed, thank you, sir," Arnold replied. + +"Mrs. Weatherley send any message?" her husband asked, with +ill-assumed indifference. + +"None at all, sir." + +Mr. Weatherley sighed. He seemed a little disappointed. + +"Did you lunch at the Carlton?" + +"We took our coffee there afterwards," Arnold said. "We lunched at a +small foreign restaurant near Oxford Street." + +"The Count Sabatini was there?" + +"Yes, sir," Arnold told him. "Also Mr. Starling." + +Mr. Weatherley nodded slowly. + +"How do you get on with Count Sabatini?" he inquired. "Rather a +gloomy person, eh?" + +"I found him very pleasant, sir," Arnold said. "He was good enough +to ask me to dine with him to-night." + +Mr. Weatherley looked up, a little startled. + +"Invited you to dine with him?" he repeated. + +Arnold nodded. + +"I thought it was very kind of him, sir." + +Mr. Weatherley sat quite still in his chair. He had obviously +forgotten his secretary's presence in the room, and Arnold, who had +seated himself at his desk and was engaged in sorting out some +papers, took the opportunity now and then to glance up and +scrutinize with some attention his employer's features. There were +certainly traces there of the change at which Mr. Jarvis had hinted. +Mr. Weatherley had the appearance of a man who had once been florid +and prosperous and comfortable-looking, but who had been visited by +illness or some sort of anxiety. His cheeks were still fat, but they +hung down toward the jaw, and his eyes were marked with crowsfeet. +His color was unhealthy. He certainly had no longer the look of a +prosperous and contented man. + +"Chetwode," he said slowly, after a long pause, "I am not sure that +I did you a kindness when I asked you to come to my house the other +night." + +"I thought so, at any rate, sir," Arnold replied. "It has been a +great pleasure to me to make Mrs. Weatherley's acquaintance." + +"I am glad that my wife has been kind to you," Mr. Weatherley +continued, "but I hope you will not misunderstand me, Chetwode, when +I say that I am not sure that such kindness is for your good. Mrs. +Weatherley's antecedents are romantic, and she has many friends +whose position in life is curiously different from my own, and whose +ideas and methods of life are not such as I should like a son of my +own to adopt. The Count Sabatini, for instance," Mr. Weatherley went +on, "is a nobleman who has had, I believe, a brilliant career, in +some respects, but who a great many people would tell you is a man +without principles or morals, as we understand them down here. He is +just the sort of man to attract youth because he is brave, and I +believe him to be incapable of a really despicable action. But +notwithstanding this, and although he is my wife's brother, if I +were you I would not choose him for a companion." + +"I am very much obliged to you, sir," Arnold answered, a little +awkwardly. "I shall bear in mind all that you have said. You do not +object, I presume, to my dining with him to-night?" + +"I have no objection to anything you may do outside this building," +Mr. Weatherley replied, "but as you are only a youngster, and you +met the Count Sabatini at my house, I feel it only right to give you +a word of warning. I may be wrong. One gets fancies sometimes, and +there are some strange doings--not that they concern you, however," +he added, hurriedly; "only you are a young man with your way to make +in the world, and every chance of making it, I should think; but it +won't do for you to get too many of Count Sabatini's ideas into your +head if you are going to do any good at a wholesome, honest business +like this." + +"I quite understand, sir," Arnold assented. "I don't suppose that +Count Sabatini will ask me to dine with him again. I think it was +just kindness that made him think of it. In any case, I am not in a +position to associate with these people regularly, at present, and +that alone would preclude me from accepting invitations." + +"You're young and strong," Mr. Weatherley said thoughtfully. "You +must fight your own battle. You start, somehow, differently than I +did. You see," he went on, with the air of one indulging in +reminiscences, "my father was in this business and I was brought up +to it. We lived only a stone's throw away then, in Bermondsey, and I +went to the City of London School. At fourteen I was in the office +here, and a partner at twenty-one. I never went out of England till +I was over forty. I had plenty of friends, but they were all of one +class. They wouldn't suit Mrs. Weatherley or the Count Sabatini. I +have lost a good many of them.... You weren't brought up to +business, Chetwode?" he asked suddenly. + +"I was not, sir," Arnold admitted. + +"What made you come into it?" + +"Poverty, sir," Arnold answered. "I had only a few shillings in the +world when I walked in and asked Mr. Jarvis for a situation." + +Mr. Weatherley sighed. + +"Your people are gentlefolk, I expect," he said. "You have the look +of it." + +Arnold did not reply. Mr. Weatherley shrugged his shoulders. + +"Well," he concluded, "you must look after yourself, only remember +what I have said. By the bye, Chetwode, I am going to repose a +certain amount of confidence in you." + +Arnold looked up from his desk. + +"I think you may safely do so, sir," he declared. + +Mr. Weatherley slowly opened a drawer at his right hand and produced +two letters. He carefully folded up the sheet upon which he had been +writing, and also addressed that. + +"I cannot enter into explanations with you about this matter, +Chetwode," he said, "but I require your promise that what I say to +you now is not mentioned in the warehouse or to any one until the +time comes which I am about to indicate. You are my confidential +secretary and I have a right, I suppose, to demand your silence." + +"Certainly, sir," Arnold assured him. + +"There is just a possibility," Mr. Weatherley declared, speaking +thoughtfully and looking out of the window, "that I may be compelled +to take a sudden and quite unexpected journey. If this be so, I +should have to leave without a word to any one--to any one, you +understand." + +Arnold was puzzled, but he murmured a word of assent. + +"In case this should happen," Mr. Weatherley went on, "and I have +not time to communicate with any of you, I am leaving in your +possession these two letters. One is addressed jointly to you and +Mr. Jarvis, and the other to Messrs. Turnbull & James, Solicitors, +Bishopsgate Street Within. Now I give these letters into your +charge. We shall lock them up together in this small safe which I +told you you could have for your own papers," Mr. Weatherley +continued, rising to his feet and crossing the room. "There you are, +you see. The safe is empty at present, so you will not need to go to +it. I am locking them up," he added, taking a key from his pocket, +"and there is the key. Now you understand?" + +"But surely, sir," Arnold began,-- + +"The matter is quite simple," Mr. Weatherley interrupted, sharply. +"To put it plainly, if I am missing at any time, if anything should +happen to me, or if I should disappear, go to that safe, take out +the letters, open your own and deliver the other. That is all you +have to do." + +"Quite so, sir," Arnold replied. "I understand perfectly. I see that +there is none for Mrs. Weatherley. Would you wish any message to be +sent to her?" + +Mr. Weatherley was silent for a moment. A boy passed along the +pavement with a bundle of evening papers. Mr. Weatherley tapped at +the window. + +"Hurry out and get me a _Star_, Chetwode," he ordered. + +Arnold obeyed him and returned a few moments later with a paper in +his hand. Mr. Weatherley spread out the damp sheet under the +electric light. He studied it for a few moments intently, and then +folded it up. + +"It will not be necessary for you, Chetwode," he said, "to +communicate with my wife specially." + +The accidental arrangement of his employer's coat and hat upon the +rack suddenly struck Arnold. + +"Why, I don't believe that you have been out to lunch, sir!" he +exclaimed. + +Mr. Weatherley looked as though the idea were a new one to him. + +"To tell you the truth," he said, "I completely forgot. Help me on +with my coat, Chetwode. There is nothing more to be done to-day. I +will call and get some tea somewhere on my way home." + +He rose to his feet, a little heavily. + +"Tell them to get me a taxicab," he directed. "I don't feel much +like walking to-day, and they are not sending for me." + +Arnold sent the errand-boy off to London Bridge. Mr. Weatherley +stood before the window looking out into the murky atmosphere. + +"I hope, Chetwode," he said, "that I haven't said anything to make +you believe that there is anything wrong with me, or to give you +cause for uneasiness. This journey of which I spoke may never become +necessary. In that case, after a certain time has elapsed, we will +destroy those letters." + +"I trust that it never may become necessary to open them, sir," +Arnold remarked. + +"As regards what I said to you about the Count," Mr. Weatherley +continued, after a moment's hesitation, "remember who I am that +give you the advice, and who you are that receive it. Your +bringing-up, I should imagine, has been different. Still, a young +man of your age has to make up his mind what sort of a life he means +to lead. I suppose, to a good many people," he went on, +reflectively, "my life would seem a common, dull, plodding affair. +Somehow or other, I didn't seem to find it so until--until lately. +Still, there it is. I suppose I have lived in a little corner of the +world, and what seems strange and wild to me might, after all, seem +not so much out of the way to a young man with different ideas like +you. Only, this much I do believe, at any rate," he went on, +buttoning up his coat and watching the taxicab which was coming +along the street; "if you want a quiet, honest life, doing your duty +to yourself and others, and living according to the old-fashioned +standards of honesty and upright living, then when you have had that +dinner with the Count Sabatini to-night, forget him, forget where he +lives. Come back to your work here, and if the things of which the +Count has been talking to you seem to have more glamor, forget them +all the more zealously. The best sort of life is always the grayest. +The life which attracts is generally the one to be avoided. We don't +do our duty," Mr. Weatherley added, brushing his hat upon his sleeve +reflectively, "by always looking out upon the pleasurable side of +life. Good evening, Chetwode!" + +He turned away so abruptly that Arnold had scarcely time to return +his greeting. It seemed so strange to him to be talked to at such +length by a man whom he had scarcely heard utter half a dozen words +in his life, that he was left speechless. He was still standing +before the window when Mr. Weatherley crossed the pavement to the +waiting taxicab. In his walk and attitude the signs of the man's +deterioration were obvious. The little swagger of his younger days +was gone, the bumptiousness of his bearing forgotten. He cast no +glance up and down the pavement to hail an acquaintance. He muttered +an address to the driver and stepped heavily into the taxicab. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +CASTLES IN SPAIN + + +Ruth welcomed him with her usual smile--once he had thought it the +most beautiful thing in the world. In the twilight of the April +evening her face gleamed almost marble white. He dragged a footstool +up to her side. + +"Little woman, you are looking pale," he declared. "Give me your +hands to hold. Can't you see that I have come just at the right +time? Even the coal barges look like phantom boats. See, there is +the first light." + +She shook her head slowly. + +"To-night," she murmured, "there will be no ships, Arnold. I have +looked and looked and I am sure. Light the lamp, please." + +"Why?" he asked, obeying her as a matter of course. + +She turned in her chair. + +"Do you think that I cannot tell?" she continued. "Didn't I see you +turn the corner there, didn't I hear your step three flights down? +Sometimes I have heard it come, and it sounds like something leaden +beating time to the music of despair. And to-night you tripped up +like a boy home for the holidays. You are going out to-night, +Arnold." + +He nodded. + +"A man whom I met the other night has asked me to dine with him," he +announced. + +"A man! You are not going to see her, then?" + +He laughed gayly and placed his hand upon the fingers which had +drawn him towards her. + +"Silly girl!" he declared. "No, I am going to dine alone with her +brother, the Count Sabatini. You see, I am private secretary now to +a merchant prince, no longer a clerk in a wholesale provision +merchant's office. We climb, my dear Ruth. Soon I am going to ask +for a holiday, and then we'll make Isaac leave his beastly lecturing +and scurrilous articles, and come away with us somewhere for a day +or two. You would like a few days in the country, Ruth?" + +Her eyes met his gratefully. + +"You know that I should love it, dear," she said, "but, Arnie, do +you think that when the time for the holiday comes you will want to +take us?" + +He sat on the arm of her chair and held her hand. + +"Foolish little woman!" he exclaimed. "Do you think that I am likely +to forget? Why, I must have shared your supper nearly every night +for a month, while I was walking about trying to find something to +do. People don't forget who have lived through that sort of times, +Ruth." + +She sighed. Strangely enough, her tone had in it something of vague +regret. + +"For your sake, dear, I am glad that they are over." + +"Things, too, will improve with you," he declared. "They shall +improve. If only Isaac would turn sensible! He has brains and he is +clever enough, if he weren't stuffed full with that foolish +socialism." + +She looked around the room and drew him a little closer to her. + +"Arnold," she whispered, "now that you have spoken of it, let me +tell you this. Sometimes I am afraid. Isaac is so mysterious. Do you +know that he is away often for the whole day, and comes back white +and exhausted, worn to a shadow, and sleeps for many hours? +Sometimes he is in his room all right, but awake. I can hear him +moving backwards and forwards, and hammering, tap, tap, tap, for +hours." + +"What does he do?" Arnold asked quickly. + +"He has some sort of a little printing press in his room," she +answered. "He prints some awful sheet there which the police have +stopped. The night before last he had a message and everything was +hidden. He spent hours with his face to the window, watching. I am +so afraid that sometimes he goes outside the law. Arnold, I am +afraid of what might happen to him. There are terrible things in his +face if I ask him questions. And he moves about and mutters like a +man in a dream--no, like a man in a nightmare!" + +Arnold frowned, and looked up at the sky-signs upon the other side +of the river. + +"I, too, wish he were different, dear," he said. "He certainly is a +dangerous protector for you." + +"He is the only one I have," the girl replied, with a sigh, "and +sometimes, when he remembers, he is so kind. But that is not often +now." + +"What do you do when he is away for all this time?" Arnold asked +quickly. "Are you properly looked after? You ought to have some one +here." + +"Mrs. Sands comes twice a day, always," she declared. "It is not +myself I trouble about, really. Isaac is good in that way. He pays +Mrs. Sands always in advance. He tries even to buy wine for me, and +he often brings me home fruit. When he has money, I am sure that he +gives it to me. It isn't that so much, Arnold, but I get frightened +of his getting into trouble. Now that room of his has got on my +nerves. When I hear that tap, tap, in the night, I am terrified." + +"Will you let me speak to him about it, Ruth?" + +Her face was suddenly full of terror. + +"Arnie, you mustn't think of it," she begged. "He would never +forgive me--never. The first time I asked him what was going on +there, I thought that he would have struck me." + +"Would you like me to go in and see next time he is out?" + +She shivered. + +"Not for the world," she replied. "Besides, you couldn't. He has +fixed on a Yale lock himself. No one could open the door." + +"You have never seen what he prints?" + +"Never," she replied. "He knows that I hate the sight of those +pamphlets. He never shows them to me. He had a man to see him the +other night--the strangest-looking man I ever saw--and they talked +in whispers for hours. I saw the man's face when he went out. It was +white and evil. And, Arnold, it was the face of a man steeped in sin +to the lips. I wish I hadn't seen it," she went on, drearily. "It +haunts me." + +He did his best to reassure her. + +"Little Ruth," he said, "you have been up here too long without a +holiday. Wait till Saturday afternoon, when I draw my new salary for +the first time. I shall hire a taxicab. We will have it open and +drive out into the country." + +Her face lit up for a moment. Her beautiful eyes were soft, although +a few seconds later they were swimming with tears. + +"Do you think you will want to go when Saturday afternoon comes?" +she asked. "Don't you think, perhaps, that your new friends may +invite you to go and see them? I am so jealous of your new friends, +Arnold." + +He drew her a little closer to him. There was something very +pathetic in her complete dependence upon him, a few months ago a +stranger. They had both been waifs, brought together by a wave of +common adversity. Her intense weakness had made the same appeal to +him as his youth and strength to her. There was almost a lump in his +throat as he answered her. + +"You aren't really feeling like that, Ruth?" he begged. "Don't! My +new friends are part of the new life. You wouldn't have me cling to +the old any longer than I can help? Why, you and I together have sat +here hour after hour and prayed for a change, prayed for the mystic +treasure that might come to us from those ships of chance. Dear, if +mine comes first, it brings good for you, too. You can't believe +that I should forget?" + +For the first time in his life he bent over and kissed her upon the +lips. She suffered his caress not only without resistance but for a +single moment her arms clasped his neck passionately. Then she drew +away abruptly. + +"I don't know what I'm doing!" she panted. "You mustn't kiss me like +that! You mustn't, Arnold!" + +She began to cry, but before he could attempt to console her she +dashed the tears away. + +"Oh, we're impossible, both of us!" she declared. "But then, a poor +creature like me must always be impossible. It isn't quite kind of +fate, is it, to give any one a woman's heart and a woman's +loneliness, and the poor frame of a hopeless invalid." + +"You're not a hopeless invalid," he assured her, earnestly. "No one +would ever know, to look at you as you sit there, that there was +anything whatever the matter. Don't you remember our money-box for +the doctor? Even that will come, Ruth. The day will come, I am sure, +when we shall carry you off to Vienna, or one of those great cities, +and the cure will be quite easy. I believe in it, really." + +She sighed. + +"I used to love to hear you talk about it," she said, "but, somehow, +now it seems so far off. I don't even know that I want to be like +other women. There is only one thing I do want and that is to keep +you." + +"That," he declared, fervently, "you are sure of. Remember, Ruth, +that awful black month and what we suffered together. And you knew +nothing about me. I just found you sitting on the stairs with your +broken stick, waiting for some one to come and help you." + +She nodded. + +"And you picked me up and carried me into your room," she reminded +him. "You didn't have to stop and take breath as Isaac has to." + +"Why, no," he admitted, "I couldn't say you were heavy, dear. Some +day or other, though," he added, "you will be. Don't lose your +faith, Ruth. Don't let either of us leave off looking for the +ships." + +She smiled. + +"Very well," she said, letting her hand fall once more softly into +his, "I think that I am very foolish. I think that yours has come +already, dear, and I am worse than foolish, I am selfish, because I +once hoped that they might come together; that you and I might sit +here, Arnold, hand in hand, and watch them with great red sails, and +piles and piles of gold and beautiful things, with our names written +on so big that we could read them even here from the window." + +She burst into a peal of laughter. + +"Oh, those children's days! What an escape they, were for us in the +black times! Do you know that we once actually told one another +fairy stories?" + +"Not only that but we believed in them," he insisted. "I am +perfectly certain that the night you found my star, and it seemed to +us to keep on getting bigger and bigger while we looked at it, that +from that night things have been getting better with me." + +"At least," she declared, abruptly, "I am not going to spoil your +dinner by keeping you here talking nonsense. Carry me back, please, +Arnold. You must hurry up now and change your clothes. And, dear, +you had better not come in and wish me good-night. Isaac went out +this morning in one of his savage tempers, and he may be back at any +moment. Carry me back now, and have a beautiful evening. To-morrow +you must tell me all about it." + +He obeyed her. She was really only a trifle to lift, as light as +air. She clung to him longingly, even to the last minute. + +"And now, please, you are to kiss my forehead," she said, "and run +away." + +"Your forehead only?" he asked, bending over her. + +"My forehead only, please," she begged gravely. "The other doesn't +go with our fairy stories, dear. I want to go on believing in the +fairy stories...." + +Arnold had little enough time to dress, and he descended the stone +steps towards the street at something like a run. Half-way down, +however, he pulled up abruptly to avoid running into two men. One +was Isaac. His worn, white face, with hooked nose and jet-black +eyes, made him a noticeable figure even in the twilight. The other +man was so muffled up as to be unrecognizable. Arnold stopped short. + +"Glad you're home, Isaac," he said pleasantly. "I have just been +talking to Ruth. I thought she seemed rather queer." + +Isaac looked at him coldly from head to foot. Arnold was wearing his +only and ordinary overcoat, but his varnished shoes and white tie +betrayed him. + +"So you're wearing your cursed livery again!" he sneered. "You're +going to beg your bone from the rich man's plate." + +Arnold laughed at him. + +"Always the same, Isaac," he declared. "Never mind about me. You +look after your niece and take her out, if you can, somewhere. I am +going to give her a drive on Saturday." + +"Are you?" Isaac said calmly. "I doubt it. Drives and carriages are +not for the like of us poor scum." + +His companion nudged him impatiently. Isaac moved away. Arnold +turned after him. + +"You won't deny the right of a man to spend what he earns in the way +he likes best?" he asked. "I've had a rise in my salary, and I am +going to spend a part of it taking Ruth out." + +Isaac laughed scornfully. + +"A rise in your salary!" he muttered. "You poor slave! Did you go +and kiss your master's foot when he gave it to you?" + +"I didn't," Arnold declared. "To tell you the truth, I believe it +would have annoyed him. He hasn't any sense of humor, you see. Good +night, Isaac. If you're writing one of those shattering articles +to-night, remember that Ruth can hear you, and don't keep her awake +too late." + +Arnold walked on. Suddenly his attention was arrested. Isaac was +leaning over the banister of the landing above. + +"Stop!" + +Arnold paused for a moment. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +Isaac came swiftly down. He brushed his cloth hat further back on +his head as though it obscured his vision. With both hands he +gripped Arnold's arm. + +"Tell me," he said, "what do you mean by that?" + +"What I said," Arnold answered; "but, for Heaven's sake, don't visit +it on poor Ruth. She told me that you had some printing-press in +your room to set up your pamphlets, and that the tap, tap at night +had kept her awake. It's no concern of mine. I don't care what you +do or what rubbish you print, but I can't bear to see the little +woman getting frailer and frailer, Isaac." + +"She told you that?" Isaac muttered. + +"She told me that," Arnold assented. "What is there in it?" + +Isaac looked at him for a moment with an intentness which was +indescribable. His black eyes seemed on fire with suspicion, with +searchfulness. At last he let go the arm which he was clutching, and +turned away. + +"All right," he said. "Ruth shouldn't talk, that's all. I don't want +every one to know that I am reduced to printing my little sheet in +my bedroom. Good night!" + +Arnold looked after him in surprise. It was very seldom that Isaac +vouchsafed any form of greeting or farewell. And then the shock +came. Isaac's companion, who had been leaning over the banisters, +waiting for him, had loosened the muffler about his neck and opened +his overcoat. His features were now recognizable--a pale face with +deep-set eyes and prominent forehead, a narrow chin, and a mouth +which seemed set in a perpetual snarl. Arnold stood gazing up at him +in rapt amazement. He had seen that face but once before, yet there +was no possibility of any mistake. It seemed, indeed, as though the +recognition were mutual, for the man above, with an angry cry, +turned suddenly away, buttoning up his overcoat with feverish +fingers. He called out to Isaac--a hurried sentence, in a language +which was strange to Arnold. There was a brief exchange of +breathless words. Arnold moved slowly away, but before he had +reached the street Isaac's hand was upon his shoulder. + +"One moment!" Isaac panted. "My friend would like to know why you +looked at him like that?" + +Arnold did not hesitate. + +"Isaac," he said, gravely, "no doubt I seemed surprised. I have seen +that man before, only a night or two ago." + +"Where? When?" Isaac demanded. + +"I saw him hanging around the house of my employer," Arnold said +firmly, "under very suspicious circumstances. He was inquiring then +for Mr. Rosario. It was the night before Rosario was murdered." + +"What do you mean by that?" Isaac asked, hoarsely. + +"You had better ask yourself what it means," Arnold replied. "For +Ruth's sake, Isaac, don't have anything to do with that man. I don't +know anything about him--I don't want to know anything about him. I +simply beg you, for Ruth's sake, to keep out of trouble." + +Isaac laughed harshly. + +"You talk like a young fool!" he declared, turning on his heel. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +SABATINI'S DOCTRINES + + +The apartments of Count Sabatini were situated in the somewhat +unfamiliar quarter of Queen Anne's Gate. Arnold found his way there +on foot, crossing Parliament Square in a slight drizzling rain, +through which the figures of the passers-by assumed a somewhat +phantasmal appearance. Around him was a glowing arc of lights, and, +dimly visible beyond, shadowy glimpses of the river. He rang the +bell with some hesitation at the house indicated by his +directions--a large gray stone building, old-fashioned, and without +any external signs of habitation. His summons, however, was answered +almost immediately by a man-servant who took his hat and coat. + +"If you will step into the library for a moment, sir," he said, with +a slight foreign accent, "His Excellency will be there." + +Arnold was immensely impressed by the room into which he was shown. +He stood looking around him for several minutes. The whole +atmosphere seemed to indicate a cultivated and luxurious taste, kept +in bounds by a certain not unpleasing masculine severity. The +coloring of the room was dark green, and the walls were everywhere +covered with prints and etchings, and trophies of the chase and war. +A huge easy-chair was drawn up to the fire, and by its side was a +table covered with books and illustrated papers. A black oak writing +desk stood open, and a huge bowl of violets set upon it was guarded +by an ivory statuette of the Venus of Milo. The furniture was +comfortably worn. There was a faint atmosphere of cigarette +smoke,--the whole apartment was impregnated by an intensely liveable +atmosphere. The glowing face of a celebrated Parisian _danseuse_ +laughed at him from over the mantelpiece. Arnold was engaged in +examining it when Sabatini entered. + +"A thousand apologies, my dear Mr. Chetwode," he said softly. "I see +you pass your time pleasantly. You admire the divine Fatime?" + +"The face is beautiful," Arnold admitted. "I am afraid I was a few +minutes early. It began to rain and I walked fast." + +Sabatini smiled. A butler had followed him into the room, bearing on +a tray two wine-glasses full of clear yellow liquid. + +"Vermouth and one tiny cigarette," Sabatini suggested,--"the best +_apéretif_ in the world. Permit me, Mr. Chetwode--to our better +acquaintance!" + +"I never need an _apéretif_," Arnold answered, raising the +wine-glass to his lips, "but I will drink to your toast, with +pleasure." + +Sabatini lit his cigarette, and, leaning slightly against the back +of a chair, stood with folded arms looking at the picture over the +fireplace. + +"Your remark about Fatime suggested reservations," he remarked. "I +wonder why? I have a good many curios in the room, and some rather +wonderful prints, but it was Fatime who held you while you waited. +Yet you are not one of those, I should imagine," he added, blowing +out a cloud of cigarette smoke, "to whom the call of sex is +irresistible." + +Arnold shook his head. + +"No, I don't think so," he admitted simply. "To tell you the truth, +I think that it was the actual presence of the picture here, rather +than its suggestions, which interested me most. Your room is so +masculine," Arnold added, glancing around. "It breathes of war and +sport and the collector. And then, in the middle of it all, this +girl, with her barely veiled limbs and lascivious eyes. There is +something a little brutal about the treatment, don't you think?" + +Sabatini shrugged his shoulders. + +"The lady is too well known," remarked Sabatini, shrugging his +shoulders. "A single touch of the ideal and the greatness of that +picture would be lost. Grève was too great an artist to try for it." + +"Nevertheless," Arnold persisted, "she disturbs the serenity of your +room." + +Sabatini threw away his cigarette and passed his arm through his +companion's. + +"It is as well always to be reminded that life is many-sided," he +murmured. "You will not mind a _tête-à-tête_ dinner?" + +Some curtains of dark green brocaded material had been silently +drawn aside, and they passed into a smaller apartment, of which the +coloring and style of decoration was the same. A round table, before +which stood two high-backed, black oak chairs, and which was lit +with softly-shaded candles, stood in the middle of the room. It was +very simply set out, but the two wine-glasses were richly cut in +quaint fashion, and the bowl of violets was of old yellow Sèvres. +Arnold sat opposite his host and realized how completely the man +seemed to fit in with his surroundings. In Mrs. Weatherley's +drawing-room there had been a note of incongruity. Here he seemed so +thoroughly in accord with the air of masculine and cultivated +refinement which dominated the atmosphere. He carried himself with +the ease and dignity to which his race entitled him, but, apart from +that, his manner had qualities which Arnold found particularly +attractive. His manicured nails, his spotless linen, his links and +waistcoat buttons,--cut from some quaint stone,--the slight +affectations of his dress, the unusual manner of brushing back his +hair and arranging his tie, gave him only a note of individuality. +Every word he spoke--and he talked softly but continually during the +service of the meal--confirmed Arnold's first impressions of him. He +was a man, at least, who had lived a man's life without fear or +weakness, and, whatever his standards might be, he would adhere to +them. + +Dinner was noiselessly and perfectly served by the butler who had +first appeared, and a slighter and smaller edition of himself who +brought him the dishes. There was no champagne, but other wines were +served in their due order, the quality of which Arnold appreciated, +although more than one was strange to him. With the removal of the +last course, fruit was placed upon the table, with a decanter of +_Chateau Yquem_. On a small table near was a brass pot of coffee and +a flask of green liqueur. Sabatini pushed the cigarettes towards his +companion. + +"I have a fancy to talk to you seriously," he said, without any +preamble. + +Arnold looked at him in some surprise. + +"I am not a philanthropist," continued Sabatini. "When I move out of +my regular course of life it is usually for my own advantage. I warn +you of that before we start." + +Arnold nodded and lit his cigarette fearlessly. There was no safety +in life, he reflected, thinking for the moment of the warning which +he had received, like the safety of poverty. + +"I am a man of forty-one," Sabatini said. "You, I believe, are +twenty-four. There can, therefore, be no impertinences in the truth +from me to you." + +"There could be none in any case," Arnold assured him. + +Sabatini gazed thoughtfully across the table into his guest's face. + +"I do not know your history or your parentage," he went on. "Such +knowledge is unnecessary. It is obvious that your position at the +present moment is the result of an accident." + +"It is the outcome of actual poverty," Arnold told him softly. + +Sabatini assented. + +"Ah! well," he said, "it is a poverty, then, which you have +accepted. Tell me, then, of your ambition! You are young, and the +world lies before you. You have the gifts which belong to those who +are born. Are you doing what is right to yourself in working at a +degrading employment for a pittance?" + +"I must live," Arnold protested simply. + +"Precisely," replied Sabatini. "We all must live. We all, however, +are too apt to accept the rulings of circumstance. I maintain that +we all have a right to live in the manner to which we are born." + +"And how," asked Arnold, "does one enforce that right?" + +Sabatini leaned over and helped himself to the liqueur. + +"You possess the gift," he remarked, "which I admire most--the gift +of directness. Now I would speak to you of myself. When I was young, +I was penniless, with no inheritance save a grim castle, a barren +island, and a great name. The titular head of my family was a +Cardinal of Rome, my father's own brother. I went to him, and I +demanded the means of support. He answered me with an epigram which +I will not repeat, besides which it is untranslatable. I will only +tell you that he gave me a sum equivalent to a few hundred pounds, +and bade me seek my fortune." + +Arnold was intensely interested. + +"Tell me how you started!" he begged. + +"A few hundred pounds were insufficient," Sabatini answered coolly, +"and my uncle was a coward. I waited my opportunity, and although +three times I was denied an audience, on the fourth I found him +alone. He would have driven me out but I used the means which I have +never known to fail. I left him with a small but sufficient +fortune." + +Arnold looked at him with glowing eyes. + +"You forced him to give it you!" he exclaimed. + +"Without a doubt," Sabatini answered, coolly. "He was wealthy and he +was my uncle. I was strong and he was weak. It was as necessary for +me to live as for him. So I took him by the throat and gave him +thirty seconds to reflect. He decided that the life of a Cardinal +of Rome was far too pleasant to be abandoned precipitately." + +There was a short silence. Sabatini glanced twice at his companion +and smiled. + +"I will read your thoughts, my young friend," he continued. "Your +brain is a little confused. You are wondering whether indeed I have +robbed my elderly relative. Expunge that word and all that it means +to you from your vocabulary, if you can. I took that to which I had +a right by means of the weapons which have been given to +me--strength and opportunity. These are the weapons which I have +used through life." + +"Supposing the Cardinal had refused?" Arnold asked. + +"One need not suppose," Sabatini replied. "It is not worth while. I +should probably have done what the impulse of the moment demanded. +So far, however, I have found most people reasonable." + +"There have been others, then?" Arnold demanded. + +"There have been others," Sabatini agreed calmly; "always people, +however, upon whom I have had a certain claim. Life to different +people means different things. Life to a person of my tastes and +descent meant this--it meant playing a part in the affairs of the +country which gave me my birthright; it meant the carrying forward +of a great enmity which has burned within the family of Sabatini for +the house which now rules my country, for hundreds of years. If I +were a person who sought for excuses, I might say that I have robbed +my relatives for the cause of the patriot. Life to a sawer of wood +means bread. The two states themselves are identical. The man who is +denied bread breaks into riot and gains his ends. I, when I have +been denied what amounts to me as bread, have also helped myself." + +"I am not sure," Arnold protested, frankly, "whether you are not +amusing yourself with me." + +"Then let me put that doubt to rest, once and for all," Sabatini +replied. "It does not amuse me to trifle with the truth." + +"Why do you make me your confidant?" Arnold asked. + +"Because it is my intention to make a convert of you," Sabatini said +calmly. + +Arnold shook his head. + +"I am afraid that that is quite hopeless," he answered. "I have not +the excuse of a country which needs my help, although I have more +than one relative," he added, with a smile, "whom I should not mind +taking by the throat." + +"One needs no excuse," Sabatini murmured. + +"When one--" + +He hesitated. + +"I have no scruples," Sabatini interrupted, "in using the word which +seems to trouble you. Perhaps I am a robber. What, however, you do +not appreciate is that nine-tenths of the people in the world are in +the same position." + +"I cannot admit that either," Arnold protested. + +"It is, then, because you have not considered the matter," Sabatini +declared. "You live in a very small corner of the world and you have +accepted a moral code as ridiculously out of date as Calvinism in +religion. The whole of life is a system of robbery. The strong help +themselves, the weak go down. Did you call your splendid seamen of +Queen Elizabeth's time robbers, because they nailed the English +flag to their mast and swept the seas for plunder? 'We are strong,' +they cried to the country they robbed, 'and you are weak. Stand and +deliver!' I spare you a hundred instances. Take your commercial life +of to-day. The capitalist stretches out his hand and swallows up the +weaker man. He does it ten or fifty times a day and there is no one +to stop him. It is the strong taking from the weak. You cannot walk +from here to Charing Cross without seeing it. Some forms of plunder +come under the law, some do not. Your idea as to which are right and +which are wrong is simply the law's idea. The man who is strong +enough is the law." + +"Your doctrines are far-reaching," Arnold said. "What about the man +who sweeps the crossings, the beggars who ask for alms?" + +"They sweep crossings and they beg for alms," Sabatini replied, +"because they are weak or foolish and because I am strong. You work +for twenty-eight shillings a week because you are foolish. You can +do it if you like, if it affords you any satisfaction to make a +martyr of yourself for the sake of bolstering up a conventional +system. Either that or you have not the spirit for adventure." + +"The spirit for adventure," Arnold repeated quietly. "Well, there +have been times when I thought I had that, but it certainly never +occurred to me to go out and rob." + +"That," Sabatini declared, "is because you are an Englishman and +extraordinarily susceptible to conventions. Now I speak with many +experiences behind me. I had ancestors who enriched themselves with +fire and sword. I would much prefer to do the same thing. As a +matter of fact, when the conditions admit of it, I do. I have fought +in whatever war has raged since the days when I was eighteen. If +another war should break out to-morrow, I should weigh the causes, +choose the side I preferred, and fight for it. But when there is no +war, I must yet live. I cannot drill troops all day, or sit in the +cafés. I must use my courage and my brains in whatever way seems +most beneficial to the cause which lies nearest to my heart." + +"I cannot imagine," Arnold said frankly, "what that cause is." + +"Some day, and before long," Sabatini replied, "you may know. At any +rate, we have talked enough of this for the present. Think over what +I have said. If at any time I should have an enterprise to propose +to you, you will at least recognize my point of view." + +He touched the bell. A servant entered almost at once, carrying his +overcoat and silk hat. + +"I have taken a box at a music-hall," he announced. "I believe that +my sister may join us there. I hope it will amuse you?" + +Arnold rose eagerly to his feet. His eyes were bright already with +anticipation. + +"And as for our conversation," Sabatini continued, as they stepped +into his little electric brougham, "dismiss it, for the present, +from your memory. Try and look out upon life with larger eyes, from +a broader point of view. Forget the laws that have been made by +other men. Try and frame for yourself a more rational code of +living. And judge not with the ready-made judgment of laws, but from +your own consciousness of right and wrong. You are at an +impressionable age, and the effort should help to make a man of +you." + +They glided softly along the crowded streets and up into Leicester +Square, where the blaze of lights seemed somehow comforting after +the cold darkness of the night. They stopped outside the _Empire_ +and Arnold followed his guide with beating heart as they were shown +to their box. The door was thrown open. Fenella was there alone. She +was sitting a little way back in the box so as to escape observation +from the house. At the sound of their entrance she turned eagerly +toward them. Arnold, who was in advance, stopped short in the act of +greeting her. She was looking past him at her brother. She was +absolutely colorless, her lips were parted, her eyes distended as +though with terror. She had all the appearance of a woman who has +looked upon some terrible thing. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE RED SIGNET RING + + +The few minutes which followed inspired Arnold with an admiration +for his companion which he never wholly lost. Sabatini recognized in +a moment his sister's state, but he did no more than shrug his +shoulders. + +"My dear Fenella!" he said, in a tone of gentle reproof. + +"You haven't heard?" she gasped. + +Sabatini drew out a chair and seated himself. He glanced around at +the house and then began slowly to unbutton his white kid gloves. + +"I did not buy an evening paper," he remarked. "Your face tells me +the news, of course. I gather that Starling has been arrested." + +"He was arrested at five o'clock!" she exclaimed. "He will be +charged before the magistrates to-morrow." + +"Then to-morrow," Sabatini continued calmly, "will be quite time +enough for you to begin to worry." + +She looked at him for a moment steadfastly. She had ceased to +tremble now and her own appearance was becoming more natural. + +"If one had but a man's nerve!" she murmured. "Dear Andrea, you make +me very much ashamed. Yet this is serious--surely it is very +serious?" + +Arnold had withdrawn as far as possible out of hearing, but +Sabatini beckoned him forward. + +"You are missing the ballet," he said. "You must take the front +chair there. You, too, will be interested in this news which my +sister has been telling me. Our friend Starling has been arrested, +after all. I was afraid he was giving himself away." + +"For the murder of Mr. Rosario?" Arnold asked. + +"Precisely," Sabatini replied. "A very unfortunate circumstance. Let +us hope that he will be able to prove his innocence." + +"I don't see how he could have done it," Arnold said slowly. "We saw +him only about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour later coming up +from the restaurant on the other side of the hotel." + +"Oh! he will come very near proving an alibi, without a doubt," +Sabatini declared. "He is quite clever when it comes to the point. I +wonder what sort of evidence they have against him." + +"Is there any reason," Arnold asked, "why he should kill Mr. +Rosario?" + +Sabatini studied his program earnestly. + +"Well," he admitted, "that is rather a difficult question to answer. +Mr. Rosario was a very obstinate man, and he was certainly +persisting in a course of action against which I and many others had +warned him, a course of action which was certain to make him +exceedingly unpopular with a good many of us. I am not sure, +however, whether the facts were sufficiently well known--" + +Fenella interrupted. She rose hurriedly to her feet. + +"I am afraid, after all, that you will have to excuse me," she +declared, moving to a seat at the back of the box. "I do not think +that I can stay here." + +Sabatini nodded gravely. + +"Perhaps you are right," he said. "For my own part, I, too, wish I +had more faith in Starling. As a matter of fact, I have none. When +they caught Crampton, one could sleep in one's bed; one knew. But +this man Starling is a nervous wreck. Who knows what story he may +tell--consciously or unconsciously--in his desperate attempts to +clear himself? You see," he continued, looking at Arnold, "there are +a great many of us to whom Mr. Rosario was personally, just at this +moment, obnoxious." + +Fenella swayed in her chair. + +"I am going home," she murmured. + +"As you will," Sabatini agreed. "Perhaps Mr. Chetwode will be so +kind as to take you back? I have asked a friend to call here this +evening." + +She turned to Arnold. + +"Do!" she pleaded. "I am fit for nothing else. You will come with +me?" + +Arnold was already standing with his coat upon his arm. + +"Of course," he replied. + +Her brother helped her on with her cloak. + +"For myself," he declared, "I shall remain. I should not like to +miss my friend, if he comes, and they tell me that the second ballet +is excellent." + + [Illustration: "For myself," he declared, "I remain." _Page 139_.] + +She took his hands. + +"You have courage, dear one," she murmured. + +He smiled. + +"It is not courage," he replied, "it is philosophy. If to-morrow +were to be the end, would you not enjoy to-day? The true +reasonableness of life is to live as though every day might be one's +last. We shall meet again very soon, Mr. Chetwode." + +Arnold held out his hands. The whole affair was intensely +mysterious, and there were many things which he did not understand +in the least, but he knew that he was in the presence of a brave +man. + +"Good night, Count Sabatini," he said. "Thank you very much for our +dinner. I am afraid I am an unconverted Philistine, and doomed to +the narrow ways, but, nevertheless, I have enjoyed my evening very +much." + +Sabatini smiled charmingly. + +"You are very British," he declared, "but never mind. Even a Briton +has been known to see the truth by gazing long enough. Take care of +my little sister, and au revoir!" + +Her fingers clutched his arm as they passed along the promenade and +down the corridor into the street. The car was waiting, and in a +moment or two they were on their way to Hampstead. She was beginning +to look a little more natural, but she still clung to him. Arnold +felt his head dizzy as though with strong wine. + +"Fenella," he said, using her name boldly, "your brother has been +talking to me to-night. All that he said I can understand, from his +point of view, but what may be well for him is not well for others +who are weaker. If you have been foolish, if the love of adventure +has led you into any folly, think now and ask yourself whether it is +worth while. Give it up before it is too late." + +"It is because I have so little courage," she murmured, looking at +him with swimming eyes, "and one must do something. I must live or +the tugging of the chain is there all the time." + +"There are many things in life which are worth while," he declared. +"You are young and rich, and you have a husband who would do +anything in the world for you. It isn't worth while to get mixed up +in these dangerous schemes." + +"What do you know of them?" she asked, curiously. + +"Not much," he admitted. "Your brother was talking to-night a little +recklessly. One gathered--" + +"Andrea sometimes talks wildly because it amuses him to deceive +people, to make them think that he is worse than he really is," she +interrupted. "He loves danger, but it is because he is a brave man." + +"I am sure of it," Arnold replied, "but it does not follow that he +is a wise one." + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"Tell me one of those many ways of living which are worth while!" +she whispered. "Point out one of them only. Remember that I, too, +have the spirit of restlessness in my veins. I must have excitement +at any cost." + +He sighed. She was, indeed, in a strange place. + +"It seems so hopeless," he said, "to try and interest you in the +ordinary things of life." + +"No one could do it," she admitted. "I was not made for domesticity. +Sometimes I think that I was not made to be wife to any man. I am a +gambler at heart. I love the fierce draughts of life. Without them I +should die." + +"Yet you married Samuel Weatherley!" Arnold exclaimed. + +She laughed bitterly. + +"Yes, I was in a prison house," she answered, "and I should have +welcomed any jailer who had come to set me free. I married him, and +sometimes I try to do my duty. Then the other longings come, and +Hampstead and my house, and my husband and my parties and my silly +friends, seem like part of a dream. Mr. Chetwode--Arnold!" + +"Fenella!" + +"We were to be friends, we were to help one another. To-night I am +afraid and I think that I am a little remorseful. It was my doing +that you dined to-night with Andrea. I have wanted to bring you, +too, into the life that my brother lives, into the life where I also +make sometimes excursions. It is not a wicked life, but I do not +know that it is a wise one. I was foolish. It was wrong of me to +disturb you. After all, you are good and solid and British, you were +meant for the other ways. Forget everything. It is less than a week +since you came first to dine with us. Blot out those few days. Can +you?" + +"Not while I live," Arnold replied. "You forget that it was during +those few days that I met you." + +"But you are foolish," she declared, laying her hand upon his and +smiling into his face, so that the madness came back and burned in +his blood. "There is no need for you to be a gambler, there is no +need for you to stake everything upon these single coups. You +haven't felt the call. Don't listen for it." + +"Fenella," he whispered hoarsely, "what was I doing when Samuel +Weatherley was shipwrecked on your island!" + +She laughed. + +"Oh, you foolish boy!" she cried. "What difference would it have +made?" + +"You can't tell," he answered. "Has no one ever moved you, Fenella? +Have you never known what it is to care for any one?" + +"Never," she replied. "I only hope that I never shall." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I am a gambler," she declared; "because to me it would mean +risking everything. And I have seen no man in the whole world strong +enough and big enough for that. You are my very dear friend, Arnold, +and you are feeling very sentimental, and your head is turned just a +little, but after all you are only a boy. The taste of life is not +yet between your teeth." + +He leaned closer towards her. She put his arm gently away, shaking +her head all the time. + +"Do not think that I am a prude," she said. "You can kiss me if you +like, and yet I would very much rather that you did not. I do not +know why. I like you well enough, and certainly it is not from any +sense of right or wrong. I am like Andrea in that way. I make my own +laws. To-night I do not wish you to kiss me." + +She was looking up at him, her eyes filled with a curious light, her +lips slightly parted. She was so close that the perfume in which her +clothes had lain, faint though it was, almost maddened him. + +"I don't think that you have a heart at all!" he exclaimed, +hoarsely. + +"It is the old selfish cry, that," she answered. "Please do not be +foolish, Arnold. Do not be like those silly boys who only plague +one. With you and me, things are more serious." + +The car came to a standstill before the portals of Pelham Lodge. +Arnold held her fingers for a moment or two after he had rung the +bell. Then he turned away. She called him back. + +"Come in with me for a moment," she murmured. "To-night I am afraid. +Mr. Weatherley will be in bed. Come in and sit with me for a little +time until my courage returns." + +He followed her into the house. There seemed to Arnold to be a +curious silence everywhere. She looked in at several rooms and +nodded. + +"Mr. Weatherley has gone to bed," she announced. "Come into my +sitting-room. We will stay there for five minutes, at least." + +She led the way across the hall towards the little room into which +she had taken Arnold on his first visit. She tried the door and came +to a sudden standstill, shook the handle, and looked up at Arnold in +amazement. + +"It seems as though it were locked," she remarked. "It's my own +sitting-room. No one else is allowed to enter it. Groves!" + +She turned round. The butler had hastened to her side. + +"What is the meaning of this?" she asked. "My sitting-room is locked +on the inside." + +The man tried the handle incredulously. He, too, was dumbfounded. + +"Where is your master?" Mrs. Weatherley asked. + +"He retired an hour ago, madam," the man replied. "It is most +extraordinary, this." + +She began to shiver. Groves leaned down and tried to peer through +the keyhole. He rose to his feet hastily. + +"The lights are burning in the room, madam," he exclaimed, "and the +key is not in the door on the other side! It looks very much as +though burglars were at work there. If you will allow me, I will go +round to the window outside. There is no one else up." + +"I will go with you," Arnold said. + +"If you please, sir," the man replied. + +They hurried out of the front door and around to the side of the +house. The lights were certainly burning in the room and the blind +was half drawn up. Arnold reached the window-sill with a spring and +peered in. + +"I can see nothing," he said to Groves. "There doesn't seem to be +any one in the room." + +"Can you get in, sir?" the man asked from below. "The sash seems to +be unfastened." + +Arnold tried it and found it yielded to his touch. He pushed it up +and vaulted lightly into the room. Then he saw that a table was +overturned and a key was lying on the floor. He picked it up and +fitted it into the door. Fenella was waiting outside. + +"I can see nothing here," he announced, "but a table has been +upset." + +She pointed to the sofa and gripped his arm. + +"Look!" she cried. "What is that?" + +Arnold felt a thrill of horror, and for a moment the room swam +before his eyes. Then he saw clearly again. From underneath the +upholstery of the sofa, a man's hand was visible stretching into the +room almost as far as his elbow. They both stared, Arnold stupefied +with horror. On the little finger of the hand was a ring with a +blood-red seal! + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +AN ADVENTURE + + +Arnold, for a moment or two, felt himself incapable of speech or +movement. Fenella was hanging, a dead weight, upon his arm. The eyes +of both of them were riveted upon the hand which stretched into the +room. + +"There is some one under the couch!" Fenella faltered at last. + +He took a step forward. + +"Wait," he begged, "--or perhaps you had better go away. I will see +who it is." + +He moved toward the couch. She strove to hold him back. + +"Arnold," she cried, hoarsely, "this is no business of yours! You +had better leave me! Groves is here, and the servants. Slip away +now, while you have the chance." + +He looked at her in amazement. + +"Why, Fenella," he exclaimed, "how can you suggest such a thing! +Besides," he added, "Groves saw me climb in at the window. He was +with me outside." + +She wrung her hands. + +"I forgot!" she moaned. "Don't move the sofa while I am looking!" + +There was a knock at the door. They both turned round. It was +Groves' voice speaking. He had returned to the house and was waiting +outside. + +"Can I come in, madam?" + +Fenella moved slowly towards the door and admitted him. Then Arnold, +setting his teeth, rolled back the couch. A man was lying there, +stretched at full length. His face was colorless except for a great +blue bruise near his temple. Arnold stared at him for a moment with +horrified eyes. + +"My God!" he muttered. + +There was a brief silence. Fenella looked across at Arnold. + +"You know him!" + +Arnold's first attempt at speech failed. When the words came they +sounded choked. There was a horrible dry feeling in his throat. + +"It is the man who looked in at the window that night," he +whispered. "I saw him--only a few hours ago. It is the same man." + +Fenella came slowly to his side. She leaned over his shoulder. + +"Is he dead?" she asked. + +Her tone was cold and unnatural. Her paroxysm of fear seemed to have +passed. + +"I don't know," Arnold answered. "Let Groves telephone for a +doctor." + +The man half turned away, yet hesitated. Fenella fell on her knees +and bent over the prostrate body. + +"He is not dead," she declared. "Groves, tell me exactly who is in +the house?" + +"There is no one here at all, madam," the man answered, "except the +servants, and they are all in the other wing. We have had no +callers whatever this evening." + +"And Mr. Weatherley?" + +"Mr. Weatherley arrived home about seven o'clock," Groves replied, +"dined early, and went to bed immediately afterwards. He complained +of a headache and looked very unwell." + +Fenella rose slowly to her feet. She looked from Arnold to the +prostrate figure upon the carpet. + +"Who has done this?" she asked, pointing downwards. + +"It may have been an accident," Arnold suggested. + +"An accident!" she repeated. "What was he doing in my sitting-room? +Besides, he could not have crept underneath the couch of his own +accord." + +"Do you know who it is?" Arnold asked. + +"Why should I know?" she demanded. + +He hesitated. + +"You remember the night of my first visit here--the face at the +window?" + +She nodded. He pointed downward to the outstretched hand. + +"That is the man," he declared. "He is wearing the same ring--the +red signet ring. I saw it upon his hand the night you and I were in +this room alone together, and he was watching the house. I saw it +again through the window of the swing-doors on the hand of the man +who killed Rosario. What does it mean, Fenella?" + +"I do not know," she faltered. + +"You must have some idea," he persisted, "as to who he is. You +seemed to expect his coming that night. You would not let me give +an alarm or send for the police. It was the same man who killed +Rosario." + +She shook her head. + +"I do not believe that," she declared. + +"If it were not the same man," Arnold continued, "it was at least +some one who was wearing the same ring. Tell me the truth, Fenella!" + +She turned her head. Groves had come once more within hearing. + +"I know nothing," she replied, hardly. "Groves, go and knock at the +door of your master's room," she added. "Ask him to put on his +dressing-gown and come down at once. Mr. Chetwode, come with me into +the library while I telephone for the doctor." + +Arnold hesitated for a moment. + +"Don't you think that I had better stay by him?" he suggested. + +She shook her head. + +"I will not be left alone," she replied. "I told you on the way here +that I was afraid. All the evening I knew that something would +happen." + +They made their way to the front of the house and into the library. +She turned up the electric lights and fetched a telephone book. +Arnold rang up the number she showed him. + +"What about the police station?" he asked, turning towards her with +the receiver still in his hand. "Oughtn't I to send for some one?" + +"Not yet," she replied. "We are not supposed to know. The man may +have come upon some business. Let us wait and see what the doctor +says." + +He laid down the receiver. She had thrown herself into an +easy-chair and with a little impulsive gesture she held out one hand +towards him. + +"Poor Arnold!" she murmured. "I am afraid that this is all very +bewildering to you, and your life was so peaceful until a week ago." + +He held her fingers tightly. Notwithstanding the shadows under her +eyes, and the gleam of terror which still lingered there, she was +beautiful. + +"I don't care about that," he answered, fervently. "I don't care +about anything except that I should like to understand a little more +clearly what it all means. I hate mysteries. I don't see why you +can't tell me. I am your friend. If it is necessary for me to say +nothing, I shall say nothing, but I hate the thoughts that come to +me sometimes. Tell me, why should that man have been haunting your +house the other evening? What did he want? And to-night--what made +him break into your room?" + +She sighed. + +"If it were only so simple as all that," she answered, "oh! I would +tell you so willingly. But it is not. There is so much which I do +not understand myself." + +He leaned a little closer towards her. The silence of the room and +the house was unbroken. + +"The man will die!" he said. "Who do you believe could have struck +him that blow in your room?" + +"I do not know," she answered; "indeed I do not." + +"You heard what Groves said," Arnold continued. "There is no one in +the house except the servants." + +"That man was here," she answered. "Why not others? Listen." + +There was the sound of shuffling footsteps in the hall. She held up +her finger cautiously. + +"Be very careful before Mr. Weatherley," she begged. "It is an +ordinary burglary, this--no more." + +The door was opened. Mr. Weatherley, in hasty and most unbecoming +deshabille, bustled in. His scanty gray hair was sticking out in +patches all over his head. He seemed, as yet, scarcely awake. With +one hand he clutched at the dressing-gown, the girdle of which was +trailing behind him. + +"What is the meaning of this, Fenella?" he demanded. "Why am I +fetched from my room in this manner? You, Chetwode? What are you +doing here?" + +"I have brought Mrs. Weatherley home, sir," Arnold answered. "We +noticed a light in her room and we made a discovery there. It looks +as though there has been an attempted burglary within the last hour +or so." + +"Which room?" Mr. Weatherley asked. "Which room? Is anything +missing?" + +"Nothing, fortunately," Arnold replied. "The man, by some means or +other, seems to have been hurt." + +"Where is he?" Mr. Weatherley demanded. + +"In my boudoir," Fenella replied. "We will all go. I have telephoned +for a doctor." + +"A doctor? What for?" Mr. Weatherley inquired. "Who needs a doctor?" + +"The burglar, if he is a burglar," she explained, gently. "Don't you +understand that all we found was a man, lying in the centre of the +room? He has had a fall of some sort." + +"God bless my soul!" Mr. Weatherley said. "Well, come along, let's +have a look at him." + +They trooped down the passage. Groves, waiting outside for them, +opened the door. Mr. Weatherley, who was first, looked all around +the apartment. + +"Where is this man?" he demanded. "Where is he?" + + [Illustration: "Where is this man?" he demanded. _Page 152_.] + +Arnold, who followed, was stricken speechless. Fenella gave a little +cry. The couch had been wheeled back to its place. The body of the +man had disappeared! + +"Where is the burglar?" Mr. Weatherley repeated, irritably. "Was +there ever any one here? Who in the name of mischief left that +window open?" + +The window through which Arnold had entered the room was now wide +open. They hurried towards it. Outside, all was darkness. There was +no sound of footsteps, no sign of any person about. Mr. Weatherley +was distinctly annoyed. + +"I should have thought you would have had more sense, Chetwode," he +said, testily. "You found a burglar here, and, instead of securing +him properly, you send up to me and go ringing up for doctors, and +in the meantime the man calmly slips off through the window." + +Arnold made no reply. Mr. Weatherley's words seemed to come from a +long way off. He was looking at Fenella. + +"The man was dead!" he muttered. + +She, too, was white, but she shook her head. + +"We thought so," she answered. "We were wrong." + +Mr. Weatherley led the way to the front door. + +"As the dead man seems to have cleared out," he said, "without +taking very much with him, I suggest that we go to bed. Groves had +better ring up the doctor and stop him, if he can; if not, he must +explain that he was sent for in error. Good night, Chetwode!" he +added, pointedly. + +Arnold scarcely remembered his farewells. He passed out into the +street and stood for several moments upon the pavement. He looked +back at the house. + +"The man was dead or dying!" he muttered to himself. "What does it +all mean?" + +He walked slowly away. There was a policeman on the other side of +the road, taxicabs and carriages coming and going. He passed the +gate of Pelham Lodge and looked back toward the window of the +sitting-room. Within five minutes the man must have left that room +by the window. That he could have left it unaided, even if alive, +was impossible. Yet there was not anything in the avenue, or +thereabouts, to denote that anything unusual had occurred. He was on +the point of turning away when a sudden thought struck him. He +re-entered the gate softly and walked up the drive. Arrived at +within a few feet of the window, he paused and turned to the right. +A narrow path led him into a shrubbery. A few more yards and he +reached a wire fence. Stepping across it, he found himself in the +next garden. Here he paused for a moment and listened. The house +before which he stood was smaller than Pelham Lodge, and woefully +out of repair. The grass on the lawn was long and dank--even the +board containing the notice "To Let" had fallen flat, and lay among +it as in a jungle. The paths were choked with weeds, the windows +were black and curtainless. He made his way to the back of the house +and suddenly stopped short. This was a night of adventures, indeed! +On a level with the ground, the windows of one of the back rooms +were boarded up. Through the chinks he could distinctly see gleams +of light. Standing there, holding his breath, he could even hear +the murmur of voices. There were men there--several of them, to +judge by the sound. He drew nearer and nearer until he found a chink +through which he could see. Then, for the first time, he hesitated. +It was not his affair, this. There were mysteries connected with +Pelham Lodge and its occupants which were surely no concern of his. +Why interfere? Danger might come of it--danger and other troubles. +Fenella would have told him if she had wished him to know. She +herself must have some idea as to the reason of this attempt upon +her house. Why not slip away quietly and forget it? It was at least +the most prudent course. Then, as he hesitated, the memory of +Sabatini's words, so recently spoken, came into his mind. Almost he +could see him leaning back in his chair with the faint smile upon +his lips. "You have not the spirit for adventure!" Then Arnold +hesitated no longer. Choosing every footstep carefully, he crept to +the window until he could press his face close to the chink through +which the light gleamed out into the garden. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE END OF AN EVENING + + +To see into the room at all, Arnold had been compelled to step down +from the grass on to a narrow, tiled path about half a yard wide, +which led to the back door. Standing on this and peering through the +chink in the boards, he gained at last a view of the interior of the +house. From the first, he had entered upon this search with a +certain presentiment. He looked into the room and shivered. It was +apparently the kitchen, and was unfurnished save for half a dozen +rickety chairs, and a deal table in the middle of the room. Upon +this was stretched the body of a motionless man. There were three +others in the room. One, who appeared to have some knowledge of +medicine, had taken off his coat and was listening with his ear +against the senseless man's heart. A brandy bottle stood upon the +table. They had evidently been doing what they could to restore him +to consciousness. Terrible though the sight was, Arnold found +something else in that little room to kindle his emotion. Two of the +men were unknown to him--dark-complexioned, ordinary middle-class +people; but the third he recognized with a start. It was Isaac who +stood there, a little aloof, waiting somberly for what his +companion's verdict might be. + +Apparently, after a time, they gave up all hope of the still +motionless man. They talked together, glancing now and then towards +his body. The window was open at the top and Arnold could sometimes +hear a word. With great difficulty, he gathered that they were +proposing to remove him, and that they were taking the back way. +Presently he saw them lift the body down and wrap it in an overcoat. +Then Arnold stole away across the lawn toward a gate in the wall. It +was locked, but it was easy for him to climb over. He had barely +done so when he saw the three men come out of the back of the house, +carrying their wounded comrade. He waited till he was sure they were +coming, and then looked around for a hiding-place. He was now in a +sort of lane, ending in a _cul de sac_ at the back of Mr. +Weatherley's house. There were gardens on one side, parallel with +the one through which he had just passed, and opposite were stables, +motor sheds and tool houses. He slipped a little way down the lane +and concealed himself behind a load of wood. About forty yards away +was a street, for which he imagined that they would probably make. +He held his breath and waited. + +In a few minutes he saw the door in the wall open. One of the men +slipped out and looked up and down. He apparently signaled that the +coast was clear, and soon the others followed him. They came down +the lane, walking very slowly--a weird and uncanny little +procession. Arnold caught a glimpse of them as they passed. The two +larger men were supporting their fallen companion between them, each +with an arm under his armpits, so that the fact that he was really +being carried was barely noticeable. Isaac came behind, his hands +thrust deep into his overcoat pocket, a cloth cap drawn over his +features. So they went on to the end of the lane. As soon as they +had reached it, Arnold followed them swiftly. When he gained the +street, they were about twenty yards to the right, looking around +them. It was a fairly populous neighborhood, with a row of villas on +the other side of the road, and a few shops lower down. They stood +there, having carefully chosen a place remote from the gas lamps, +until at last a taxicab came crawling by. They hailed it, and Isaac +engaged the driver's attention apparently with some complicated +direction, while the others lifted their burden into the taxicab. +One man got in with him. Isaac and the other, with ordinary +good-nights, strode away. The taxicab turned around and headed +westward. Arnold, with a long breath, watched them all disappear. +Then he, too, turned homewards. + +It was almost midnight when Arnold was shown once more into the +presence of Sabatini. Sabatini, in a black velvet smoking jacket, +was lying upon a sofa in his library, with a recently published +edition _de luxe_ of Alfred de Musset's poems upon his knee. He +looked up with some surprise at Arnold's entrance. + +"Why, it is my strenuous young friend again!" he declared. "Have you +brought me a message from Fenella?" + +Arnold shook his head. + +"She does not know that I have come." + +"You have brought me some news on your own account, then?" + +"I have brought you some news," Arnold admitted. + +Sabatini looked at him critically. + +"You look terrified," he remarked. "What have you been doing? Help +yourself to a drink. You'll find everything on the sideboard there." + +Arnold laid down his hat and mixed himself a whiskey and soda. He +drank it off before he spoke. + +"Count Sabatini," he said, turning round, "I suppose you are used to +all this excitement. A man's life or death is little to you. I have +never seen a dead man before to-night. It has upset me." + +"Naturally, naturally," Sabatini said, tolerantly. "I remember the +first man I killed--it was in a fair fight, too, but it sickened me. +But what have you been doing, my young friend, to see dead men? Have +you, too, been joining the army of plunderers?" + +Arnold shook his head. + +"I took your sister home," he announced. "We found a light in her +sitting-room and the door locked. I got in through the window." + +"This is most interesting," Sabatini declared, carefully marking the +place in his book and laying it aside. "What did you find there?" + +"A dead man," Arnold answered, "a murdered man!" + +"You are joking!" Sabatini protested. + +"He had been struck on the forehead," Arnold continued, "and dragged +half under the couch. Only his arm was visible at first. We had to +move the couch to discover him." + +"Do you know who he was?" Sabatini asked. + +"No one had any idea," Arnold answered. "I think that I was the only +one who had ever seen him before. The night I dined at Mr. +Weatherley's for the first time and met you, I was with Mrs. +Weatherley in her room, and I saw that man steal up to the window as +though he were going to break in." + +"This is most interesting," Sabatini declared. "Evidently a +dangerous customer. But you say that you found him dead. Who killed +him?" + +"There was no one there who could say," Arnold declared. "There were +no servants in that part of the house, there had been no visitors, +and Mr. Weatherley had been in bed since half-past nine. We +telephoned for a doctor, and we fetched Mr. Weatherley out of bed. +Then a strange thing happened. We took Mr. Weatherley to the room, +which we had left for less than five minutes, and there was no one +there. The man had been carried away." + +"Really," Sabatini protested, "your story gets more interesting +every moment. Don't tell me that this is the end!" + +"It is not," Arnold replied. "It seemed then as though there were +nothing more to be done. Evidently he had either been only stunned +and had got up and left the room by the window, or he had +accomplices who had fetched him away. Mr. Weatherley was very much +annoyed with us and we had to make excuses to the doctor. Then I +left." + +"Well?" Sabatini said. "You left. You didn't come straight here?" + +Arnold shook his head. + +"When I got into the road, I could see that there was a policeman on +duty on the other side of the way, and quite a number of people +moving backwards and forwards all the time. It seemed impossible +that they could have brought him out there if he had been fetched +away. Something made me remember what I had noticed on the evening I +had dined there--that there was a small empty house next door. I +walked back up the drive of Pelham Lodge, turned into the +shrubbery, and there I found that there was an easy way into the +next garden. I made my way to the back of the house. I saw lights in +the kitchen. There were three of his companions there, and the dead +man. They were trying to see if they could revive him. I looked +through a chink in the boarded window and I saw everything." + +"Trying to revive him," Sabatini remarked. "Evidently there was some +doubt as to his being dead, then." + +"I think they had come to the conclusion that he was dead," Arnold +replied; "for after a time they put on his overcoat and dragged him +out by the back entrance, down some mews, into another street. I +followed them at a distance. They hailed a taxi. One man got in with +him and drove away, the others disappeared. I came here." + +Sabatini reached out his hand for a cigarette. + +"I have seldom," he declared, "listened to a more interesting +episode. You didn't happen to hear the direction given to the driver +of the taxicab?" + +"I did not." + +"You have no idea, I suppose," Sabatini asked, with a sudden keen +glance, "as to the identity of the man whom you believe to be dead?" + +"None whatever," Arnold replied, "except that it was the same man +who was watching the house on the night when I dined there. He told +me then that he wanted Rosario. There was something evil in his face +when he mentioned the name. I saw his hand grasping the window-sill. +He was wearing a ring--a signet ring with a blood-red stone." + +"This is most engrossing," Sabatini murmured. "A signet ring with a +blood-red stone! Wasn't there a ring answering to that description +upon the finger of the man who stabbed Rosario?" + +"There was," Arnold answered. + +Sabatini knocked the ash from his cigarette. + +"The coincidence," he remarked, "if it is a coincidence, is a little +extraordinary. By the bye, though, you have as yet given me no +explanation as to your visit here. Why do you connect me with this +adventure of yours?" + +"I do not connect you with it at all," Arnold answered; "yet, for +some reason or other, I am sure that your sister knew more about +this man and his presence in her sitting-room than she cared to +confess. When I left there, everything was in confusion. I have come +to tell you the final result, so far as I know it. You will tell her +what you choose. What she knows, I suppose you know. I don't ask for +your confidence. I have had enough of these horrors. Tooley Street +is bad enough, but I think I would rather sit in my office and add +up figures all day long, than go through another such night." + +Sabatini smiled. + +"You are young, as yet," he said. "Life and death seem such terrible +things to you, such tragedies, such enormous happenings. In youth, +one loses one's sense of proportion. Life seems so vital, the +universe so empty, without one's own personality. Take a pocketful +of cigarettes, my dear Mr. Chetwode, and make your way homeward. We +shall meet again in a day or two, I dare say, and by that time your +little nightmare will not seem so terrible." + +"You will let your sister know?" Arnold begged. + +"She shall know all that you have told me," Sabatini promised. "I +do not say that it will interest her--it may or it may not. In any +case, I thank you for coming." + +Arnold was dismissed with a pleasant nod, and passed out into the +streets, now emptying fast. He walked slowly back to his rooms. +Already the sense of unwonted excitement was passing. Sabatini's +strong, calm personality was like a wonderful antidote. After all, +it was not his affair. It was possible, after all, that the man was +an ordinary burglar. And yet, if so, what was Isaac doing with him? +He glanced in front of him to where the lights of the two great +hotels flared up to the sky. Somewhere just short of them, before +the window of her room, Ruth would be sitting watching. He quickened +his steps. Perhaps he should find her before he went to bed. Perhaps +he might even see Isaac come in! + +Big Ben was striking the half-hour past midnight as Arnold stood on +the top landing of the house at the corner of Adam Street, and +listened. To the right was his own bare apartment; on the left, the +rooms where Isaac and Ruth lived together. He struck a match and +looked into his own apartment. There was a note twisted up for him +on his table, scribbled in pencil on a half sheet of paper. He +opened it and read: + + If you are not too late, will you knock at the door and + wish me good night? Isaac will be late. Perhaps he will + not be home at all. + +He stepped back and knocked softly at the opposite door. In a moment +or two he heard the sound of her stick. She opened the door and came +out. Her eyes shone through the darkness at him but her face was +white and strained. He shook his head. + +"Ruth," he said, "you heard the time? And you promised to go to bed +at ten o'clock!" + +She smiled. He passed his arm around her, holding her up. + +"To-night I was afraid," she whispered. "I do not know what it was +but there seemed to be strange voices about everywhere. I was afraid +for Isaac and afraid for you." + +"My dear girl," he laughed, "what was there to fear for me? I had a +very good dinner with a very charming man. Afterwards, we went to a +music-hall for a short time, I went back to his rooms, and here I +am, just in time to wish you good night. What could the voices have +to tell you about that?" + +She shook her head. + +"Sometimes," she said, "there is danger in the simplest things one +does. I don't understand what it is," she went on, a little wearily, +"but I feel that I am losing you, you are slipping away, and day by +day Isaac gets more mysterious, and when he comes home sometimes his +face is like the face of a wolf. There is a new desire born in him, +and I am afraid. I think that if I am left alone here many more +nights like this, I shall go mad. I tried to undress, Arnie, but I +couldn't. I threw myself down on the bed and I had to bite my +handkerchief. I have been trembling. Oh, if you could hear those +voices! If you could understand the fears that are nameless, how +terrible they are!" + +She was shaking all over. He passed his other arm around her and +lifted her up. + +"Come and sit with me in my room for a little time," he said. "I +will carry you back presently." + +She kissed him on the forehead. + +"Dear Arnold!" she whispered. "For a few minutes, then--not too +long. To-night I am afraid. Always I feel that something will +happen. Tell me this?" + +"What is it, dear?" + +"Why should Isaac press me so hard to tell him where you were going +to-night? You passed him on the stairs, didn't you?" + +Arnold nodded. + +"He was with another man," he said, with a little shiver. "Did that +man come up to his rooms?" + +"They both came in together," Ruth said. "They talked in a corner +for some time. The man who was with Isaac seemed terrified about +something. Then Isaac came over to me and asked about you." + +"What did you tell him?" Arnold asked. + +"I thought it best to know nothing at all," she replied. "I simply +said that you were going to have dinner with some of your new +friends." + +"Does he know who they are?" + +Ruth nodded. + +"Yes, we have spoken of that together," she admitted. "I had to tell +him of your good fortune. He knows how well you have been getting on +with Mr. and Mrs. Weatherley. Listen!--is that some one coming?" + +He turned around with her still in his arms, and started so +violently that if her fingers had not been locked behind his neck he +must have dropped her. Within a few feet of them was Isaac. He had +come up those five flights of stone steps without making a sound. +Even in that first second or two of amazement, Arnold noticed that +he was wearing canvas shoes with rubber soles. He stood with his +long fingers gripping the worn balustrade, only two steps below +them, and his face was like the face of some snarling animal. + +"Ruth," he demanded, hoarsely, "what are you doing out here at this +time of night--with him?" + +She slipped from Arnold's arms and leaned on her stick. To all +appearance, she was the least discomposed of the three. + +"Isaac," she answered, "Uncle Isaac, I was lonely--lonely and +terrified. You left me so strangely, and it is so silent up here. I +left a little note and asked Arnold, when he came home, to bid me +good night. He knocked at my door two minutes ago." + +Isaac threw open the door of their apartments. + +"Get in," he ordered. "I'll have an end put to it, Ruth. Look at +him!" he cried, mockingly, pointing to Arnold's evening clothes. +"What sort of a friend is that, do you think, for us? He wears the +fetters of his class. He is a hanger-on at the tables of our +enemies." + +"You can abuse me as much as you like," Arnold replied, calmly, "and +I shall still believe that I am an honest man. Are you, Isaac?" + +Isaac's eyes flashed venom. + +"Honesty! What is honesty?" he snarled. "What is it, I ask you? Is +the millionaire honest who keeps the laws because he has no call to +break them? Is that honesty? Is he a better man than the father who +steals to feed his hungry children? Is the one honest and the other +a thief? You smug hypocrite!" + +Arnold was silent for a moment. It flashed into his mind that here, +from the other side, came very nearly the same doctrine as Sabatini +had preached to him across his rose-shaded dining table. + +"It is too late to argue with you, Isaac," he said, pleasantly. +"Besides, I think that you and I are too far apart. But you must +leave me Ruth for my little friend. She would be lonely without me, +and I can do her no harm." + +Isaac opened his lips,--lips that were set in an ugly sneer--but he +met the steady fire of Arnold's eyes, and the words he would have +spoken remained unsaid. + +"Get to your room, then," he ordered. + +He passed on as though to enter his own apartments. Then suddenly he +stopped and listened. There was the sound of a footstep, a heavy, +marching footstep, coming along the Terrace below. With another look +now upon his face, he slunk to the window and peered down. The +footsteps came nearer and nearer, and Arnold could hear him +breathing like a hunted animal. Then they passed, and he stood up, +wiping the sweat from his forehead. + +"I have been hurrying," he muttered, half apologetically. "We had a +crowded meeting. Good night!" + +He turned into his rooms and closed the door. Arnold looked after +him for a moment and then up the street below. When he turned into +his own rooms, he was little enough inclined for sleep. He drew up +his battered chair to the window, threw it open, and sat looking +out. The bridge and the river were alike silent now. The sky signs +had gone, the murky darkness blotted out the whole scene, against +which the curving arc of lights shone with a fitful, ghostly light. +For a moment his fancy served him an evil trick. He saw the barge +with the blood-red sails. A cargo of evil beings thronged its side. +He saw their faces leering at him. Sabatini was there, standing at +the helm, calm and scornful. There was the dead man and Isaac, +Groves the butler, Fenella herself--pale as death, her hands +clasping at her bosom as though in pain. Arnold turned, shivering, +away; his head sank into his hands. It seemed to him that poison had +crept into those dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +DISCUSSING THE MYSTERY + + +At precisely half-past nine the next morning, Mr. Weatherley entered +his office in Tooley Street. His appearance, as he passed through +the outer office, gave rise to some comment. + +"The governor looks quite himself again," young Tidey remarked, +turning round on his stool. + +Mr. Jarvis, who was collecting the letters, nodded. + +"It's many months since I've heard him come in whistling," he +declared. + +Arnold, in the outer office, received his chief's morning salutation +with some surprise. Mr. Weatherley was certainly, to all appearance, +in excellent spirits. + +"Glad to see your late hours don't make any difference in the +morning, Chetwode," he said, pleasantly. "You seem to be seeing +quite a good deal of the wife, eh?" + +Arnold was almost dumbfounded. Any reference to the events of the +preceding evening was, for the moment, beyond him. Mr. Weatherley +calmly hung up his silk hat, took out the violets from the +button-hole of his overcoat and carried them to his desk. + +"Come along, Jarvis," he invited, as the latter entered with a +rustling heap of correspondence. "We'll sort the letters as quickly +as possible this morning. You come on the other side, Chetwode, and +catch hold of those which we keep to deal with together. Those Mr. +Jarvis can handle, I'll just initial. Let me see--you're sure those +bills of lading are in order, Jarvis?" + +Mr. Jarvis plunged into a few particulars, to which his chief +listened with keen attention. For half an hour or so they worked +without a pause. Mr. Weatherley was quite at his best. His +instructions were sage, and his grasp of every detail referred to in +the various letters was lucid and complete. When at last Mr. Jarvis +left with his pile, he did not hesitate to spread the good news. Mr. +Weatherley had got over his fit of depression, from whatever cause +it had arisen; a misunderstanding with his wife, perhaps, or a +certain amount of weariness entailed by his new manner of living. At +all events, something had happened to set matters right. Mr. Jarvis +was quite fluent upon the subject, and every one started his day's +work with renewed energy. + +Mr. Weatherley's energy did not evaporate with the departure of his +confidential clerk. He motioned Arnold to a chair, and for another +three-quarters of an hour he dictated replies to the letters which +he had sorted out for personal supervision. When at last this was +done, he leaned back in his seat, fetched out a box of cigars, +carefully selected one and lit it. + +"Now you had better get over to your corner and grind that lot out, +Chetwode," he said pleasantly. "How are you getting on with the +typing, eh?" + +"I am getting quicker," Arnold replied, still wondering whether the +whole events of last week had not been a dream. "I think, with a +little more practice, I shall be able to go quite fast enough." + +"Just so," his employer assented. "By the bye, is it my fancy, or +weren't you reading the newspaper when I came in? No time for +newspapers, you know, after nine o'clock." + +Arnold rose to his feet. This was more than he could bear! + +"I am sorry if I seemed inattentive, sir," he said. "Under the +circumstances, I could not help dwelling a little over this +paragraph. Perhaps you will look at it yourself, sir?" + +He brought it over to the desk. Mr. Weatherley put on his spectacles +with great care and drew the paper towards him. + +"Hm!" he ejaculated. "My eyesight isn't so good as it was, Chetwode, +and your beastly ha'penny papers have such small print. Read it out +to me--read it out to me while I smoke." + +He leaned back in his padded chair, his hands folded in front of +him, his cigar in the corner of his mouth. Arnold smoothed the paper +out and read: + + TERRIBLE DEATH OF AN UNKNOWN MAN. + FOUND DEAD IN A TAXICAB. + + Early this morning, a taxicab driver entered the police + station at Finchley Road North, and alleged that a + passenger whom he had picked up some short time before, + was dead. Inspector Challis, who was on duty at the time, + hastened out to the vehicle and found that the driver's + statement was apparently true. The deceased was carried + into the police station and a doctor was sent for. The + chauffeur's statement was that about midnight he was + hailed in the Grove End Road, Hampstead, by four men, one + of whom, evidently the deceased, he imagined to be the + worse for drink. Two of them entered the taxicab, and one + of the others directed him to drive to Finchley. After + some distance, however, the driver happened to glance + inside, and saw that only one of his passengers was + there. He at once stopped the vehicle, looked in at the + window, and, finding that the man was unconscious, drove + on to the police station. + + Later information seems to point to foul play, and there + is no doubt whatever that an outrage has been committed. + There was a wound upon the deceased's forehead, which the + doctor pronounces as the cause of death, and which had + evidently been dealt within the last hour or so with some + blunt instrument. The taxicab driver has been detained, + and a full description of the murdered man's companions + has been issued to the police. It is understood that + nothing was found upon the deceased likely to help + towards his identification. + +Arnold looked up as he finished. Mr. Weatherley was still smoking. +He seemed, indeed, very little disturbed. + +"A sensational story, that, Chetwode," he remarked. "You're not +supposing, are you, that it was the same man who broke into my house +last night?" + +"I know that it was, sir," Arnold replied. + +"You know that it was," Mr. Weatherley repeated, slowly. "Come, what +do you mean by that?" + +"I mean that after I left your house last night, sir," Arnold +explained, "I realized the impossibility of that man having been +carried down your drive and out into the road, with a policeman on +duty directly opposite, and a cabstand within a few yards. I +happened to remember that there was an empty house next door, and it +struck me that it might be worth while examining the premises." + +Mr. Weatherley withdrew the cigar from his mouth. + +"You did that, eh?" + +"I did," Arnold admitted. "I made my way to the back, and I found a +light in the room which presumably had been the kitchen. From a +chink in the boarded-up window I saw several men in the room, +including the man whom we discovered in your wife's boudoir, and who +had been spirited away. He was lying motionless upon the table, and +one of the others was apparently trying to restore him. When they +found that it was useless, they took him off with them by the back +way into Grove Lane. I saw two of them enter a taxicab and the other +two make off." + +"And what did you do then?" Mr. Weatherley asked. + +"I went and told Count Sabatini what I had seen," Arnold replied. + +"And after that?" + +"I went home." + +"You told no one else but Count Sabatini?" Mr. Weatherley persisted. + +"No one," Arnold answered. "I bought a paper on my way to business +this morning, and read what I have just read to you." + +"You haven't been rushing about ringing up to give information, or +anything of that sort?" + +"I have done nothing," Arnold asserted. "I waited to lay the matter +before you." + +Mr. Weatherley knocked the ash from his cigar, and, discovering that +it was out, carefully relit it. + +"Chetwode," he said, "I have advanced you from something a little +better than an office-boy, very rapidly, because it seemed to me +that you had qualities. The time has arrived to test them. The +secret of success in life is minding your own business. I am going +to ask you to mind your own business in this matter." + +"You mean," Arnold asked, "that you do not wish me to give any +information, to say anything about last night?" + +"I do not wish my name, or the name of my wife, or the name of my +house, to be associated with this affair at all," Mr. Weatherley +replied. "Mrs. Weatherley would be very much upset and it is, +besides, entirely unnecessary." + +Arnold hesitated for a moment. + +"It is a serious matter, sir, if you will permit me to say so," he +said slowly. "The man was murdered--that seems to be clear--and, +from what you and I know, it certainly seems that he was murdered in +your house." + +Mr. Weatherley shook his head. + +"That is not my impression," he declared. "The man was found dead in +Mrs. Weatherley's boudoir, but there was no one in the house or +apparently within reach who was either likely to have committed such +a crime, or who even could possibly have done so. On the other hand, +there are this man's companions, desperate fellows, no doubt, within +fifty yards all the time. My own impression is that he was killed +first and then placed in the spot where he was found. However that +may be, I don't want my house made the rendezvous of all the +interviewers and sightseers in the neighborhood. You and I will keep +our counsel, Arnold Chetwode." + +"Might I ask," Arnold said, "if you knew this man--if you had ever +come into contact with him or seen him before?" + +"Certainly not," Mr. Weatherley replied. "What business could I +possibly have with a person of that description? He seems to have +been, if not an habitual criminal himself, at least an associate of +criminals, and he was without doubt a foreigner. Between you and +me, Chetwode, I haven't the least doubt that the fellow was one of a +gang of the worst class of burglars. Wherever he got that blow from, +it was probably no more than he deserved." + +"But, Mr. Weatherley," Arnold protested, "don't you think that you +ought to have an investigation among your household?" + +"My dear young fellow," Mr. Weatherley answered, testily, "I keep no +men-servants at all except old Groves, who's as meek-spirited as a +baby, and a footman whom my wife has just engaged, and who was out +for the evening. A blow such as the paper describes was certainly +never struck by a woman, and there was just as certainly no other +man in my house. There is nothing to inquire about. As a matter of +fact, I am not curious. The man is dead and there's an end of it." + +"You will bear in mind, sir," Arnold said, "that if it comes to +light afterwards, as it very probably may, that the man was first +discovered in Mrs. Weatherley's boudoir, the scandal and gossip will +be a great deal worse than if you came forward and told the whole +truth now." + +"I take my risk of that," Mr. Weatherley replied, coolly. "There +isn't a soul except Groves who saw him, and Groves is my man. Now be +so good as to get on with those letters, Chetwode, and consider the +incident closed." + +Arnold withdrew to his typewriter and commenced his task. The day +had commenced with a new surprise to him. The nervous, shattered Mr. +Weatherley of yesterday was gone. After a happening in his house +which might well have had a serious effect upon him, he seemed not +only unmoved but absolutely restored to cheerfulness. He was reading +the paper for himself now, and the room was rapidly becoming full of +tobacco smoke. Arnold spelled out his letters one by one until the +last was finished. Then he took them over to his employer to sign. +One by one Mr. Weatherley read them through, made an alteration here +and there, then signed them with his large, sprawling hand. Just as +he had finished the last, the telephone by his side rang. He took +the receiver and placed it to his ear. Arnold waited until he had +finished. Mr. Weatherley himself said little. He seemed to be +listening. Towards the end, he nodded slightly. + +"Yes, I quite understand," he said, "quite. That was entirely my own +opinion. No case at all, you say? Good!" + +He replaced the receiver and leaned back in his chair. For the first +time, when he spoke his voice was a little hoarse. + +"Chetwode," he said, "ring up my house--16, Post Office, Hampstead. +Ask Groves to tell his mistress that I thought she might be +interested to hear that Mr. Starling will be discharged this +morning. The police are abandoning the case against him, at present, +for lack of evidence." + +Arnold stood for a moment quite still. Then he took up the receiver +and obeyed his orders. Groves' voice was as quiet and respectful as +ever. He departed with the message and Arnold rang off. Then he +turned to Mr. Weatherley. + +"Have you any objection to my ringing up some one else and telling +him, too?" he asked. + +Mr. Weatherley looked at him. + +"You are like all of them," he remarked. "I suppose you think he's a +sort of demigod. I never knew a young man yet that he couldn't twist +round his little finger. You want to ring up Count Sabatini, I +suppose?" + +"I should like to," Arnold admitted. + +"Very well, go on," Mr. Weatherley grumbled. "Let him know. Perhaps +it will be as well." + +Arnold took from his pocket the note which Sabatini had written to +him, and which contained his telephone number. Then he rang up. The +call was answered by his valet. + +"In one moment, sir," he said. "The telephone rings into His +Excellency's bedchamber. He shall speak to you himself." + +A minute or two passed. Then the slow, musical voice of Sabatini +intervened. + +"Who is that speaking?" + +"It is I--Arnold Chetwode," Arnold answered. "I am speaking from the +office in the city. I heard some news a few minutes ago which I +thought might interest you." + +"Good!" Sabatini replied, stifling what seemed to be a yawn. "You +have awakened me from a long sleep, so let your news be good, my +young friend." + +"Mr. Weatherley hears from a solicitor at Bow Street that the police +have abandoned the charge against Mr. Starling," Arnold announced. +"He will be set at liberty as soon as the court opens." + +There was a moment's silence. It was as though the person at the +other end had gone away. + +"Did you hear?" Arnold asked. + +"Yes, I heard," Sabatini answered. "I am very much obliged to you +for ringing me up, my young friend. I quite expected to hear your +news during the day. No one would really suppose that a respectable +man like Starling would be guilty of such a ridiculous action. +However, it is pleasant to know. I thank you. I take my coffee and +rolls this morning with more appetite." + +Arnold set down the telephone. Mr. Weatherley, had risen to his feet +and walked as far as the window. On his way back to his place, he +looked at the little safe which he had made over to his secretary. + +"You've got my papers there all right, Chetwode?" he asked. + +"Certainly, sir," Arnold answered. "I hope, however, we may never +need to use them." + +Mr. Weatherley smiled. He was busy choosing another cigar. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +IN THE COUNTRY + + +They sat on the edge of the wood, and a west wind made music for +them overhead among the fir trees. From their feet a clover field +sloped steeply to a honeysuckle-wreathed hedge. Beyond that, +meadow-land, riven by the curving stream which stretched like a +thread of silver to the blue, hazy distance. Arnold laughed softly +with the pleasure of it, but the wonder kept Ruth tongue-tied. + +"I feel," she murmured, "as though I were in a theatre for the first +time. Everything is strange." + +"It is the theatre of nature," Arnold replied. "If you close your +eyes and listen, you can hear the orchestra. There is a lark singing +above my head, and a thrush somewhere back in the wood there." + +"And see, in the distance there are houses," Ruth continued softly. +"Just fancy, Arnold, people, if they had no work to do, could live +here, could live always out of sight of the hideous, smoky city, out +of hearing of its thousand discords." + +He smiled. + +"There are a great many who feel like that," he said, his eyes fixed +upon the horizon, "and then, as the days go by, they find that +there is something missing. The city of a thousand discords +generally has one clear cry, Ruth." + +"For you, perhaps," she answered, "because you are young and because +you are ambitious. But for me who lie on my back all day long, think +of the glory of this!" + +Arnold slowly sat up. + +"Upon my word!" he exclaimed. "Why not. Why shouldn't you stay in +the country for the summer? I hate London, too. There are cheap +tickets, and bicycles, and all sorts of things. I wonder whether we +couldn't manage it." + +She said nothing. His thoughts were busy with the practical side of +it. There was an opportunity here, too, to prepare her for what he +felt sure was inevitable. + +"You know, Ruth," he said, "I don't wish to say anything against +Isaac, and I don't want to make you uneasy, but you know as well as +I do that he has a strange maggot in his brain. When I first heard +him talk, I thought of him as a sort of fanatic. It seems to me that +he has changed. I am not sure that such changes as have taken place +in him lately have not been for the worse." + +"Tell me what you mean?" she begged. + +"I mean," he continued, "that Isaac, who perhaps in himself may be +incapable of harm, might be an easy prey to those who worked upon +his wild ideas. Hasn't it struck you that for the last few days--" + +She clutched at his hand and stopped him. + +"Don't!" she implored. "These last few days have been horrible. +Isaac has not left his room except to creep out sometimes into mine. +He keeps his door locked. What he does I don't know, but if he +hears a step on the stairs he slinks away, and his face is like the +face of a hunted wolf. Arnold, do you think that he has been getting +into trouble?" + +"I am afraid," Arnold said, regretfully, "that it is not impossible. +Tell me, Ruth, you are very fond of him?" + +"He was my mother's brother--the only relative I have in the world," +she answered. "What could I do without him?" + +"He doesn't seem to want you particularly, just now, at any rate," +Arnold said. "I don't see why we shouldn't take rooms out at one of +these little villages. I could go back and forth quite easily. You'd +like it, wouldn't you, Ruth? Fancy lying in a low, comfortable +chair, and looking up at the blue sky, and listening to the birds +and the humming of bees. The hours would slip by." + +"I should love it," she murmured. + +"Then why not?" he cried. "I'll stop the car at the next village we +come to, and make inquiries." + +She laid her hand softly upon his. + +"Arnold, dear," she begged, "it sounds very delightful, and yet, +can't you see it is impossible? I am not quite like other women, +perhaps, but, after all, I am a woman. It is for your sake--for your +sake, mind--that I think of this." + +He turned and looked at her--looked at her, perhaps, with new eyes. +She was stretched almost at full length upon the grass, her head, +which had been supported by her clasped hands, now turned towards +him. As she lay there, with her stick out of sight, her lips a +little parted, her eyes soft with the sunlight, a faint touch of +color in her cheeks, he suddenly realized the significance of her +words. Her bosom was rising and falling quickly. Her plain black +dress, simply made though it was, showed no defect of figure. Her +throat was soft and white. The curve of her body was even graceful. +The revelation of these things came as a shock to Arnold, yet it was +curious that he found a certain pleasure in it. + +"I had forgotten, Ruth," he said slowly, "but does it matter? You +have no one in the world but Isaac, and I have no one in the world +at all. Don't you think we can afford to do what seems sensible?" + +Her eyes never left his face. She made no sign either of assent or +dissent. + +"Arnold," she declared, "it is true that I am an outcast. I have +scarcely a relative in the world. But what you say about yourself is +hard to believe. I have never asked you questions because it is not +my business, but there are many little things by which one tells. I +think that somewhere you have a family belonging to you with a name, +even if, for any reason, you do not choose just now to claim them." + +He made no direct reply. He watched for some moments a white-sailed +boat come tacking down the narrow strip of river. + +"I am my own master, Ruth," he said; "I have no one else to please +or to consider. I understand what you have just told me, but if I +gave you my word that I would try and be to you what Isaac might +have been if he had not been led away by these strange ideas, +wouldn't you trust me, Ruth?" + +"It isn't that!" she exclaimed. "Trust you? Why, you know that I +would! It isn't that I mind for myself either what people would +say--or anything, but I am thinking of your new friends, of your +future. If they knew that you were living down in the country with a +girl, even though she were an invalid, who was no relation at all, +don't you think that it might make a difference?" + +"Of course not," he replied, "and, in any case, what should I care? +It would be the making of you, Ruth. You would be able to pick up +your strength, so that when our money-box is full you would be able +to have that operation and never dare to call yourself an invalid +again." + +She half closed her eyes. The spell of summer was in the air, the +spell of life was stirring slowly in her frozen blood. + +"Ah! Arnold," she murmured, "I do not think that you must talk like +that. It makes me feel so much like yielding. Somehow, the dreams +out here seem even more wonderful than the visions which come +floating up the river. There's more life here. Don't you feel it? +Something seems to creep into your heart, into your pulses, and tell +you what life is." + +He made no answer. The world of the last few throbbing weeks seemed +far enough away with him, too. He picked a handful of clover and +thrust it into the bosom of her gown. Then he rose reluctantly to +his feet and held out his hands. + +"I think," he said, "that the great gates of freedom must be +somewhere out here, but just now one is forced to remember that we +are slaves." + +He drew her to her feet, placed the stick in her hand, and supported +her other arm. They walked for a step or two down the narrow path +which led through the clover field to the lane below. Then, with a +little laugh, he caught her up in his arms. + +"It will be quicker if I carry you, Ruth," he proposed. "The weeds +twine their way all the time around your stick." + +She linked her arms around his neck; her cheek touched his for a +moment, and he was surprised to find it as hot as fire. He stepped +out bravely enough, but with every step it seemed to him that she +was growing heavier. Her hands were still tightly linked around his +neck, but her limbs were inert. She seemed to be falling away. He +held her tighter, his breath began to grow shorter. The perfume of +the clover, fragrant and delicate, grew stronger with every step +they took. Somehow he felt that that walk along the narrow path was +carving its way into his life. The fingers at the back of his neck +were cold, yet she, too, was breathing as though she had been +running. Her eyes were half closed. He looked once into her face, +bent over her until his lips nearly touched hers. He set his teeth +hard. Some instinct warned him of the dangers of the moment. Her +stick slipped and a lump arose in his throat. The moment had passed. +He kissed her softly upon the forehead. + +"Dear Ruth!" he whispered. + +She turned very pale and very soon afterward she insisted upon being +set down. They walked slowly to where the motor car was waiting at +the corner of the lane. Ruth began to talk nervously. + +"It was charming of Mrs. Weatherley," she declared, "to lend you +this car. Tell me how it happened, Arnie?" + +"I simply told her," he replied, "that I was going to take a +friend, who needed a little fresh air, out into the country, and she +insisted upon sending this car instead of letting me hire a taxicab. +It was over the telephone and I couldn't refuse. Besides, Mr. +Weatherley was in the office, and he insisted upon it, too. They +only use this one in London, and I know that they are away somewhere +for the week-end." + +"It has been so delightful," Ruth murmured. "Now I am going to lie +back among these beautiful cushions, and just watch and think." + +The car glided on along the country lane, passing through leafy +hamlets, across a great breezy moorland, from the top of which they +could see the Thames winding its way into Oxfordshire, a sinuous +belt of silver. Then they sped down into the lower country, and +Arnold looked at the milestones in some surprise. + +"We don't seem to be getting any nearer to London," he remarked. + +Ruth only shook her head. + +"It will come soon enough," she said, with a little shiver. "It will +pass, this, like everything else." + +They had dropped to the level now, and suddenly, without warning, +the car swung through a low white gate up along an avenue of shrubs. +Arnold leaned forward. + +"Where are you taking us?" he asked the driver. "There is some +mistake." + +But there was no mistake. A turn of the wheel and the car was +slowing down before the front of a long, ivy-covered house, with a +lawn as smooth as velvet, and beyond, the soft murmur of the river. +Ruth clutched at his arm. + +"Arnold!" she exclaimed. "What does this mean? Who lives here?" + +"I have no idea," he answered, "unless--" + +The windows in front of the house were all of them open and all of +them level with the drive. Through the nearest of them at that +moment stepped Fenella. She stood, for a moment, framed in the long +French window, hung with clematis,--a wonderful picture even for +Arnold, a revelation to Ruth,--in her cool muslin frock, open at the +throat, and held together by a brooch with a great green stone. She +wore no hat, and her wonderful hair seemed to have caught the +sunlight in its meshes. Her eyebrows were a little raised; her +expression was a little supercilious, faintly inquisitive. Already +she had looked past Arnold. Her eyes were fixed upon the girl by his +side. + +"I began to think that you were lost," she said gayly. "Won't you +present me to your friend, Arnold?" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +WOMAN'S WILES + + +Arnold sprang to his feet. It was significant that, after his first +surprise, he spoke to Fenella with his head half turned towards his +companion, and an encouraging smile upon his lips. + +"I had no idea that we were coming here," he said. "We should not +have thought of intruding. It was your chauffeur who would not even +allow us to ask a question." + +"He obeyed my orders," Fenella replied. "I meant it for a little +surprise for you. I thought that it would be pleasant after your +drive to have you call here and rest for a short time. You must +present me to your friend." + +Arnold murmured a word of introduction. Ruth moved a little in her +seat. She lifted herself with her left hand, leaning upon her stick. +Fenella's expression changed as though by magic. Her cool, +good-humored, but almost impertinent scrutiny suddenly vanished. She +moved to the side of the motor car and held out both her hands. + +"I am so glad to see you here," she declared. "I hope that you will +like some tea after your long ride. Perhaps you would prefer Mr. +Chetwode to help you out?" + +"You are very kind," Ruth murmured. "I am sorry to be such a trouble +to everybody." + +Arnold lifted her bodily out of the car and placed her on the edge +of the lawn. Fenella, a long parasol in her hand, was looking +pleasantly down at her guest. + +"You will find it quite picturesque here, I think," she said. "It is +not really the river itself which comes to the end of the lawn, but +a little stream. It is so pretty, though, and so quiet. I thought +you would like to have tea down there. But, my poor child," she +exclaimed, "your hair is full of dust! You must come to my room. It +is on the ground floor here. Mr. Chetwode and I together can help +you so far." + +They turned back toward the house and passed into the cool white +hall, the air of which was fragrant with the perfume of geraniums +and clematis. On the threshold of Fenella's room they were alone for +a moment. Fenella was summoning her maid. Ruth clung nervously to +Arnold. The room into which they looked was like a fairy chamber, +full of laces and perfume and fine linen. + +"Arnold," she whispered, "you are sure that you did not know about +coming here?" + +"I swear that I had no idea," he answered. "I would not have thought +of bringing you without telling you first." + +Then Fenella returned and he was banished into the garden. At the +end of the lawn he found Mr. Weatherley, half asleep in a wicker +chair. The latter was apparently maintaining his good spirits. + +"Glad to see you, Chetwode," he said. "Sort of plot of my wife's, I +think. Your young lady friend in the house?" + +"Mrs. Weatherley was kind enough to take her to her room," Arnold +replied. "We have had a most delightful ride, and I suppose it was +dusty, although we never noticed it." + +Mr. Weatherley relit his cigar, which had gone out while he dozed. + +"Thought we'd like a little country air ourselves for the week-end," +he remarked. "Will you smoke?" + +Arnold shook his head. + +"Not just now, thank you, sir. Is that the river through the trees +there?" + +Mr. Weatherley nodded. + +"It's about a hundred yards down the stream," he replied. +"Bourne End is the nearest station. The cottage belongs to my +brother-in-law--Sabatini. I believe he's coming down later on. Any +news at the office yesterday morning?" + +"There was nothing whatever requiring your attention, sir," Arnold +said. "There are a few letters which we have kept over for +to-morrow, but nothing of importance." + +Mr. Weatherley pursed his lips and nodded. He asked a further +question or two concerning the business and then turned his head at +the sound of approaching footsteps. Ruth, looking very pale and +fragile, was leaning on the arm of a man-servant. Fenella walked on +the other side, her lace parasol drooping over her shoulder, her +head turned towards Ruth's, whose shyness she was doing her best to +melt. Mr. Weatherley rose hastily from his chair. + +"God bless my soul!" he declared. "I didn't know--you didn't tell +me--" + +"Miss Lalonde has been a great sufferer," Arnold said. "She has been +obliged to spend a good deal of her time lying down. For that +reason, to-day has been such a pleasure to her." + +He hurried forward and took the butler's place. Together they +installed her in the most comfortable chair. Mr. Weatherley came +over and shook hands with her. + +"Pretty place, this, Miss Lalonde, isn't it?" he remarked. "It's a +real nice change for business men like Mr. Chetwode and myself to +get down here for an hour or two's quiet." + +"It is wonderfully beautiful," she answered. "It is so long since I +was out of London that perhaps I appreciate it more, even, than +either of you." + +"What part of London do you live in?" Fenella asked her. + +"My uncle and I have rooms in the same house as Mr. Chetwode," she +replied. "It is in Adam Street, off the Strand." + +"Not much air there this hot weather, I don't suppose," Mr. +Weatherley remarked. + +"We are on the top floor," she replied, "and it is the end house, +nearest to the river. Still, one feels the change here." + +Tea was brought out by the butler, assisted by a trim parlor-maid. +Fenella presided. The note of domesticity which her action involved +seemed to Arnold, for some reason or other, quaintly incongruous. +Arnold waited upon them, and Fenella talked all the time to the +pale, silent girl at her side. Gradually Ruth overcame her shyness; +it was impossible not to feel grateful to this beautiful, gracious +woman who tried so hard to make her feel at her ease. The time +slipped by pleasantly enough. Then Fenella rose to her feet. + +"You must carry Miss Lalonde and her chair down to the very edge of +the lawn, where she can see the river," she told Arnold. +"Afterwards, I am going to take you to see my little rose garden. I +say mine, but it is really my brother's, only it was my idea when he +first took the place. Mr. Weatherley is going down to the +boat-builder's to see some motor-launches--horrible things they are, +but necessary if we stay here for the summer. Would you like some +books or magazines, Miss Lalonde, or do you think you would care to +come with us if we helped you very carefully?" + +Ruth shook her head. + +"I should like to sit quite close to the river," she said shyly, +"just where you said, and close my eyes. You don't know how +beautiful it is to get the roar of London out of one's ears, and be +able to hear nothing except these soft, summer sounds. It is like a +wonderful rest." + +They arranged her comfortably. Mr. Weatherley returned to the house. +Fenella led the way through a little iron gate to a queer miniature +garden, a lawn brilliant with flower-beds, ending in a pergola of +roses. They passed underneath it and all around them the soft, +drooping blossoms filled the whole air with fragrance. At the end +was the river and a wooden seat. She motioned to him to sit by her +side. + +"You are not angry with me?" she asked, a little timidly. + +"Angry? Why should I be?" he answered. "The afternoon has been +delightful. I can't tell you how grateful I feel." + +"All the same," she said, "I think you know that I laid a plot to +bring you here because I was curious about this companion of yours, +for whose sake you refused my invitation. However, you see I am +penitent. Poor girl, how can one help feeling sorry for her! You +forgive me?" + +"I forgive you," he answered. + +She closed her parasol and leaned back in her corner of the seat. +She seemed to be studying his expression. + +"There is something different about you this afternoon," she said. +"I miss a look from your face, something in your tone when you are +talking to me." + +He shook his head. + +"I am not conscious of any difference." + +She laughed softly, but she seemed, even then, a little annoyed. + +"You are not appreciating me," she declared. "Do you know that here, +in the wilderness, I have put on a Paquin muslin gown, white shoes +from Paris, white silk stockings--of which you can see at least two +inches," she added, glancing downwards. "I have risked my complexion +by wearing no hat, so that you can see my hair really at its best. I +looked in the glass before you came and even my vanity was +satisfied. Now I bring you away with me and find you a seat in a +bower of roses, and you look up into that elm tree as though you +were more anxious to find out where the thrush was singing than to +look at me." + +He laughed. Through the raillery of her words he could detect a +certain half-girlish earnestness which seemed to him delightful. + +"Try and remember," he said, "how wonderful a day like this must +seem to any one like myself, who has spent day after day for many +months in Tooley Street. I have been sitting up on the hills, +listening to the wind in the trees. You can't imagine the difference +when you've been used to hearing nothing but the rumble of drays on +their way to Bermondsey." + +She looked up at him. + +"You know," she declared, "you are rather a mysterious person. I +cannot make up my mind that you are forced to live the life you do." + +"You do not suppose," he replied, "that any sane person would choose +it? It is well enough now, thanks to you," he added, dropping his +voice a little. "A week ago, I was earning twenty-eight shillings a +week, checking invoices and copying letters--an errand boy's work; +pure, unadulterated drudgery, working in a wretched atmosphere, +without much hope of advancement or anything else." + +"But even then you leave part of my question unanswered," she +insisted. "You were not born to this sort of thing?" + +"I was not," he admitted; "but what does it matter?" + +"You don't care to tell me your history?" she asked lazily. +"Sometimes I am curious about it." + +"If I refuse," he answered, "it may give you a false impression. I +will tell you a little, if I may. A few sentences will be enough." + +"I should really like to hear," she told him. + +"Very well, then," he replied. "My father was a clergyman, his +family was good. He and I lived almost alone. He had an income and +his stipend, but he was ambitious for me, and, by some means or +other, while I was away he was led to invest all his money with one +of these wretched bucket-shop companies. A telegram fetched me home +unexpectedly just as I was entering for my degree. I found my father +seriously ill and almost broken-hearted. I stayed with him, and in a +fortnight he died. There was just enough--barely enough--to pay what +he owed, and nothing left of his small fortune. His brother, my +uncle, came down to the funeral, and I regret to say that even then +I quarreled with him. He made use of language concerning my father +and his folly which I could not tolerate. My father was very simple +and very credulous and very honorable. He was just the sort of man +who becomes the prey of these wretched circular-mongering sharks. +What he did, he did for my sake. My uncle spoke of him with +contempt, spoke as though he were charged with the care of me +through my father's foolishness. I am afraid I made no allowance for +my uncle's peculiar temperament. The moment the funeral was over, I +turned him out of the house. I have no other relatives. I came to +London sooner than remain down in the country and be found a +position out of charity, which is, I suppose, what would have +happened. I took a room and looked for work. Naturally, I was glad +to get anything. I used to make about forty calls a day, till I +called at your husband's office in Tooley Street and got a +situation." + +She nodded. + +"I thought it was something like that," she remarked. "Supposing I +had not happened to discover you, I wonder how long you would have +gone on?" + +"Not much longer," he admitted. "To tell you the truth, I should +have enlisted but for that poor little girl whom I brought down with +me this afternoon." + +His tone had softened. There was the slightest trace of a frown upon +her face as she looked along the riverside. + +"But tell me," she asked, "what is your connection with her?" + +"One of sympathy and friendliness only," he answered. "I never saw +her till I took the cheapest room I could find at the top of a gaunt +house near the Strand. The rest of the top floor is occupied by this +girl and her uncle. He is a socialist agitator, engaged on one of +the trades' union papers,--a nervous, unbalanced creature, on fire +with strange ideas,--the worst companion in the world for any one. +Sometimes he is away for days together. Sometimes, when he is at +home, he talks like a prophet, half mad, half inspired, as though he +were tugging at the pillars which support the world. The girl and he +are alone as I am alone, and there is something which brings people +very close together when they are in that state. I found her fallen +upon the landing one day and unable to reach her rooms, and I +carried her in and talked. Since then she looks for me every +evening, and we spend some part of the time together." + +"Is she educated?" + +"Excellently," he answered. "She was brought up in a convent after +her parents' death. She has read a marvellous collection of books, +and she is very quick-witted and appreciative." + +"But you," she said, "are no longer a waif. These things are +passing for you. You cannot carry with you to the new world the +things which belong to the old." + +"No prosperity should ever come to me," he declared, firmly, "in +which that child would not share to some extent. With the first two +hundred pounds I possess, if ever I do possess such a sum," he +added, with a little laugh, "I am going to send her to Vienna, to +the great hospital there." + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"Two hundred pounds is not a large sum," she remarked. "Would you +like me to lend it to you?" + +He shook his head. + +"She would not hear of it," he said. "In her way, she is very +proud." + +"It may come of its own accord," she whispered, softly. "You may +even have an opportunity of earning it." + +"I am doing well enough just now," he remarked, "thanks to Mr. +Weatherley, but sums of money like that do not fall from the +clouds." + +They were both silent. She seemed to be listening to the murmur of +the stream. His head was lifted to the elm tree, from somewhere +among whose leafy recesses a bird was singing. + +"One never knows," she said softly. "You yourself have seen and +heard of strange things happening within the last few days." + +He came back to earth with a little start. + +"It is true," he confessed. + +"There is life still," she continued, "throbbing sometimes in the +dull places, adventures which need only the strong arm and the +man's courage. One might come to you, and adventures do not go +unrewarded." + +"You talk like your brother," he remarked. + +"Why not?" she replied. "Andrea and I have much in common. Do you +know that sometimes you provoke me a little?" + +"I?" + +She nodded. + +"You have so much the air of a conqueror," she said. "You look as +though you had courage and determination. One could see that by your +mouth. And yet you are so much like the men of your nation, so +stolid, so certain to move along the narrow lines which convention +has drawn for you. Oh! if I could," she went on, leaning towards him +and looking intently into his face, "I would borrow the magic from +somewhere and mix a little in your wine, so that you should drink +and feel the desire for new things; so that the world of Tooley +Street should seem to you as though it belonged to a place inhabited +only by inferior beings; so that you should feel new blood in your +veins, hot blood crying for adventures, a new heart beating to a new +music. I would like, if I could, Arnold, to bring those things into +your life." + +He turned and looked at her. Her face was within a few inches of +his. She was in earnest. The gleam in her eyes was half-provocative, +half a challenge. Arnold rose uneasily to his feet. + +"I must go back," he said, a little thickly. "I forgot that Ruth is +so shy. She will be frightened alone." + +He walked away down the pergola without even waiting for her. It was +very rude, but she only leaned back in her chair and laughed. In a +way, it was a triumph! + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +ARNOLD SPEAKS OUT + + +Ruth was still alone, and her welcome was almost pathetic. She +stretched out her arms--long, thin arms they seemed in the tight +black sleeves of her worn gown. She had discarded her carefully +mended gloves and her hands were bare. + +"Arnold," she murmured, "how long you have been away!" + +He threw himself on the grass by her side. + +"Silly little woman!" he answered. "Don't tell me that you are not +enjoying it?" + +"It is all wonderful," she whispered, "but can't you see that I am +out of place? When could we go, Arnie?" + +"Are you so anxious to get away?" he asked, lazily. + +"In a way, I should be content to stay here for ever," she answered. +"If you and I only could be here--why, Arnold, it is like Heaven! +Just close your eyes as I have been doing--like that. Now listen. +There isn't any undernote, none of that ceaseless, awful monotony of +sound that seems like the falling of weary men's feet upon the +eternal pavement. Listen--there is a bird singing somewhere in that +tree, and the water goes lapping and lapping and lapping, as though +it had something pleasant to say but were too lazy to say it. And +every now and then, if you listen very intently, you can hear +laughing voices through the trees there from the river, laughter +from people who are happy, who are sailing on somewhere to find +their city of pleasure. And the perfumes, Arnold! I don't know what +the rose garden is like, but even from here I can smell it. It is +wonderful." + +"Yet you ask me when we are going," he reminded her. + +She shivered for a moment. + +"It is not my world," she declared. "I am squeezed for a moment into +a little corner of it, but it is not mine and I have nothing to do +with it. She is so beautiful, that woman, and so gracious. She talks +to me out of pity, but when I first came she looked at me and there +was a challenge in her eyes. What did it mean, Arnold? Is she fond +of you? Is she going to be fond of you?" + +He laughed, a little impatiently. + +"My dear Ruth," he said, "she is my employer's wife. She has been +kind to me because I think that she is naturally kind, and because +lately she has not found among her friends many people of her own +age. Beyond that, there is nothing; there is never likely to be +anything. She mixes in a world where she can have all the admiration +she desires, and all the friends." + +"Yet she looks at you," Ruth persisted, in a troubled tone, "as +though she had some claim; as though I, even poor I, were an +interloper for the tiny share I might have of your thoughts or +sympathy. I do not understand it." + +He touched her hand lightly with his. + +"You are too sensitive, dear," he said, "and a little too +imaginative. You must remember that she is half a foreigner. Her +moods change every moment, and her expression with them. She was +curious to see you. I have tried to explain to her what friends we +are. I am sure that her interest is a friendly one." + +A motor horn immediately behind startled them both. They turned +their heads. A very handsome car, driven by a man in white livery, +had swept up the little drive and had come to a standstill in front +of the hall door. From the side nearest to them Count Sabatini +descended, and stood for a moment looking around him. The car moved +on towards the stables. Sabatini came slowly across the lawn. + +"Who is it?" she whispered. "How handsome he is!" + +"He is Mrs. Weatherley's brother--Count Sabatini," Arnold replied. + +He came very slowly and, recognizing Arnold, waved his gray Homburg +hat with a graceful salute. He was wearing cool summer clothes of +light gray, with a black tie, boots with white linen gaiters, and a +flower in his coat. Even after his ride from London he looked +immaculate and spotless. He greeted Arnold kindly and without any +appearance of surprise. + +"I heard that you were to be here," he said. "My sister told me of +her little plot. I hope that you approve of my bungalow?" + +"I think that it is wonderful," Arnold answered. "I have never seen +anything of the river before--this part of it, at any rate." + +Sabatini turned slightly towards Ruth, as though expecting an +introduction. His lips were half parted; he had the air of one about +to make a remark. Then suddenly a curious change seemed to come over +his manner. His natural ease seemed to have entirely departed. He +stood stiff and rigid, and there was something forbidding in his +face as he looked down at the girl who had glanced timidly towards +him. A word--it was inaudible but it sounded like part of a woman's +name--escaped him. He had the appearance, during those few seconds, +of a man who looks through the present into a past world. It was all +over before even they could appreciate the situation. With a little +smile he had leaned down towards Ruth. + +"You will do me the honor," he murmured, "of presenting me to your +companion?" + +Arnold spoke a word or two of introduction. Sabatini pulled up a +chair and sat down at once by the girl's side. He had seen the stick +and seemed to have taken in the whole situation in a moment. + +"Please be very good-natured," he begged, turning to Arnold, "and go +and find my sister. She will like to know that I am here. I am going +to talk to Miss Lalonde for a time, if she will let me. You don't +mind my being personal?" he went on, his voice soft with sympathy. +"I had a very dear cousin once who was unable to walk for many +years, and since then it has always interested me to find any one +suffering in the same way." + +There was a simple directness about his speech which seemed to open +the subject so naturally that Ruth found herself talking without +effort of her accident, and the trouble it had brought. They drifted +so easily into conversation that Arnold left them almost at once. He +had only a little distance to go before he found Fenella returning. +She was carrying a great handful of roses which she had just +gathered, and to his relief there was no expression of displeasure +in her face. Perhaps, though, he reflected with a sinking heart, she +had understood! + +"Your brother has just arrived," he announced. "I think that he has +motored down from London. He wished me to let you know that he was +here." + +"Where is he?" she asked. + +"He is on the lawn, talking to Miss Lalonde," Arnold replied. + +"I will go to them presently," she said. "In the meantime, you are +to make yourself useful, if you please," she added, holding out the +roses. "Take these into the house, will you, and give them to one of +the women." + +He took them from her. + +"With pleasure! And then, if you will excuse us,--" + +"I excuse no word which is spoken concerning your departure," she +declared. "To-night I give a little fête. We change our dinner into +what you call supper, and we will have the dining table moved out +under the trees there. You and your little friend must stop, and +afterwards my brother will take you back to London in his car, or I +will send you up in my own." + +"You are too kind," Arnold answered. "I am afraid--" + +"You are to be afraid of nothing," she interrupted, mockingly. "Is +that not just what I have been preaching to you? You have too many +fears for your height, my friend." + +"We will put it another way, then. I was thinking of Miss Lalonde. +She is not strong, and I think it is time we were leaving. If you +could send us so far as the railway station--" + +"There are no trains that leave here," she asserted; "at least, I +never heard of them. I shall go and talk to her myself. We shall +see. No, on second thoughts, she is too interested. You and I will +walk to the house together. That is one thing," she continued, +"which I envy my brother, which makes me admire him so much. I think +he is the most charmingly sympathetic person I ever met. Illness of +any sort, or sickness, seems to make a woman of him. I never knew a +child or a woman whose interest or sympathy he could not win +quickly." + +"It is a wonderful thing to say of any man, that," Arnold remarked. + +"Wonderful?" she repeated. "Why, yes! So far as regards children, at +any rate. You know they say--one of the writers in my mother's +country said--that men are attracted by beauty, children by +goodness; and women by evil. It is of some such saying that you are +thinking. Now I shall leave these flowers in the hall and ring the +bell. Tell me, would you like me to show you my books?" + +She laid her fingers upon the white door of her little drawing-room +and looked at him. + +"If you do not mind," he replied, "I should like to hear what Ruth +says about going." + +This time she frowned. She stood looking at him for a moment. +Arnold's face was very square and determined, but there were still +things there which she appreciated. + +"You are very formal, to-day," she declared. "You give too many of +your thoughts to your little friend. I do not think that you are +treating me kindly. I should like to sit with you in my room and to +talk to you of my books. Look, is it not pretty?" + +She threw open the door. It was a tiny little apartment, in which +all the appointments and the walls were white, except for here and +there a little French gilded furniture of the best period. A great +bowl of scarlet geraniums stood in one corner. Though the windows +were open, the blinds were closely drawn, so that it was almost like +twilight. + +"You won't come for five minutes?" she begged. + +"Yes!" he answered, almost savagely. "Come in and shut the door. I +want to talk to you--not about your books. Yes, let us sit +down--where you will. That couch is big enough for both of us." + +The sudden change in his manner was puzzling. The two had changed +places. The struggle was at an end, but it was scarcely as a victim +that Arnold leaned towards her. + +"Give me your hands," he said. + +"Arnold!" she whispered. + +He took them both and drew her towards him. + +"What is it you want?" he asked. "Not me--I know that. You are +beautiful, you know that I admire you, you know that a day like this +is like a day out of some wonderful fairy story for me. I am young +and foolish, I suppose, just as easily led away as most young men +are. Do you want to make me believe impossible things? You look at +me from the corners of your eyes and you laugh. Do you want to make +use of me in any way? You're not a flirt. You are a wife, and a good +wife. Do you know that men less impressionable than I have been +made slaves for life by women less beautiful than you, without any +effort on their part, even? No, I won't be laughed at! This is +reality! What is it you want?" He leaned towards her. "Do you want +me to kiss you? Do you want me to hold you in my arms? I could do +it. I should like to do it. I will, if you tell me to. Only +afterwards--" + +"Afterwards, what?" + +"I shall do what I should have done if your husband hadn't taken me +into his office--I should enlist," he said. "I mayn't be +particularly ambitious, but I've no idea of hanging about, a +penniless adventurer, dancing at a woman's heels. Be honest with me. +At heart I do believe in you, Fenella. What is it you want?" + +She leaned back on the couch and laughed. It was no longer the +subtle, provoking laugh of the woman of the world. She laughed +frankly and easily, with all the lack of restraint to which her +twenty-four years entitled her. + +"My dear boy," she declared, "you have conquered. I give in. You +have seen through me. I am a fraud. I have been trying the old +tricks upon you because I am very much a woman, because I want you +to be my slave and to do the things I want you to do and live in the +world I want you to live in, and I was jealous of this companion for +whose sake you would not accept my invitation. Now I am sane again. +I see that you are not to be treated like other and more foolish +young men. My brother wants you. He wants you for a companion, he +wants you to help him in many ways. He has been used to rely upon me +in such cases. I have my orders to place you there." She pointed to +her feet. "Alas, that I have failed!" she added, laughing once +more. "But, Arnold, we shall be friends?" + +"Willingly," he answered, with an immense sense of relief. "Only +remember this. I may have wisdom enough to see the lure, but I may +not always have strength enough not to take it. I have spoken to you +in a moment of sanity, but--well, you are the most compellingly +beautiful person I ever saw, and compellingly beautiful women have +never made a habit of being kind to me, so please--" + +"Don't do it any more," she interrupted. "Is that it?" + +"As you like." + +"Now I am going to put a piece of scarlet geranium in your +buttonhole, and I am going to take you out into the garden and hand +you over to my brother, and tell him that my task is done, that you +are my slave, and that he has only to speak and you will go out into +the world with a revolver in one hand and a sword in the other, and +wear any uniform or fight in any cause he chooses. Come!" + +"You know," Arnold said, as they left the room, "I don't know any +man I admire so much as your brother, but I am almost as frightened +of him as I am of you." + +"One who talks of fear so glibly," she answered, "seldom knows +anything about it." + +"There are as many different sorts of fear as there are different +sorts of courage," he remarked. + +"How we are improving!" she murmured. "We shall begin moralizing +soon. Presently I really think we shall compare notes about the +books we have read and the theatres we have been to, and before we +are gray-headed I think one of us will allude to the weather. Now +isn't my brother a wonderful man? Look at that flush upon Miss +Lalonde's cheeks. Aren't you jealous?" + +"Miserably!" + +Sabatini rose to his feet and greeted his sister after his own +fashion, holding both her hands and kissing her on both cheeks. + +"If only," he sighed, "our family had possessed morals equal to +their looks, what a race we should have been! But, my dear +sister,--a question of taste only,--you should leave Doucet and +Paquin at home when you come to my bungalow." + +"You men never altogether understand," she replied. "Nothing +requires a little artificial aid so much as nature. It is the +piquancy of the contrast, you see. That is why the decorations of +Watteau are the most wonderful in the world. He knew how to combine +the purely, exquisitely artificial with the entirely simple. Now to +break the news to Miss Lalonde!" + +Ruth turned a smiling face towards her. + +"It is to say that our fête day is at an end," she said, looking for +her stick. + +"Fête days do not end at six o'clock in the afternoon," Fenella +replied. "I want you to be very kind and give us all a great deal of +pleasure. We want to make a little party--you and Mr. Chetwode, my +brother, myself and Mr. Weatherley--and dine under that cedar tree, +just as we are. We are going to call it supper. Then, afterwards, +you will have a ride back to London in the cool air. Either my +brother will take you, or we will send a car from here." + +"It is a charming idea," Sabatini said. "Miss Lalonde, you will not +be unkind?" + +She hesitated only for a moment. They saw her glance at her frock, +the little feminine struggle, and the woman's conquest. + +"If you really mean it," she said, "why, of course, I should love +it. It is no good my pretending that if I had known I should have +been better prepared," she continued, "because it really wouldn't +have made any difference. If you don't mind--" + +"Then it is settled!" Sabatini exclaimed. "My young friend Arnold is +now going to take me out upon the river. I trust myself without a +tremor to those shoulders." + +Arnold rose to his feet with alacrity. + +"You get into the boat-house down that path," Sabatini continued. +"There is a comfortable punt in which I think I could rest +delightfully, or, if you prefer to scull, I should be less +comfortable, but resigned." + +"It shall be the punt," Arnold decided, with a glance at the river. +"Won't any one else come with us?" + +Fenella shook her head. + +"I am going to talk to Miss Lalonde," she said. "After we have had +an opportunity of witnessing your skill, Mr. Chetwode, we may trust +ourselves another time. Au revoir!" + +They watched the punt glide down the stream, a moment or two later, +Sabatini stretched between the red cushions with a cigarette in his +mouth, Arnold handling his pole like a skilled waterman. + +"You like my brother?" Fenella asked. + +The girl looked at her gratefully. + +"I think that he is the most charming person I ever knew in my +life," she declared. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE REFUGEE'S RETURN + + +Sabatini's attitude of indolence lasted only until they had turned +from the waterway into the main river. Then he sat up and pointed a +little way down the stream. + +"Can you cross over somewhere there?" he asked. + +Arnold nodded and punted across towards the opposite bank. + +"Get in among the rushes," Sabatini directed. "Now listen to me." + +Arnold came and sat down. + +"You don't mean to tire me," he remarked. + +Sabatini smiled. + +"Do you seriously think that I asked you to bring me on the river +for the pleasure of watching your prowess with that pole, my +friend?" he asked. "Not at all. I am going to ask you to do me a +service." + +Arnold was suddenly conscious that Sabatini, for the first time +since he had known him, was in earnest. The lines of his +marble-white face seemed to have grown tenser and firmer, his manner +was the manner of a man who meets a crisis. + +"Turn your head and look inland," he said. "You follow the lane +there?" + +Arnold nodded. + +"Quite well," he admitted. + +"At the corner," Sabatini continued, "just out of sight behind that +tall hedge, is my motor car. I want you to land and make your way +there. My chauffeur has his instructions. He will take you to a +village some eight miles up the river, a village called Heslop Wood. +There is a boat-builder's yard at the end of the main street. You +will hire a boat and row up the river. About three hundred yards up, +on the left hand side, is an old, dismantled-looking house-boat. I +want you to board it and search it thoroughly." + +Sabatini paused, and Arnold looked at him, perplexed. + +"Search it!" he exclaimed. "But for whom? For what?" + +"It is my belief," Sabatini went on, "that Starling is hiding there. +If he is, I want you to bring him to me by any means which occur to +you. I had sooner he were dead, but that is too much to ask of you. +I want him brought in the motor car to that point in the lane there. +Then, if you succeed, you will bring him down here and your mission +is ended. Will you undertake it?" + +Arnold never hesitated for a moment. He was only too thankful to be +able to reply in the affirmative. He put on his coat and propelled +the punt a little further into the rushes. + +"I'll do my best," he asserted. + +Sabatini said never a word, but his silence seemed somehow eloquent. +Arnold sprang onto the bank and turned once around. + +"If he is there, I'll bring him," he promised. + +Sabatini waved his hand and Arnold sped across the meadow. He found +the motor car waiting behind the hedge, and he had scarcely stepped +in before they were off. They swung at a great speed along the +narrow lanes, through two villages, and finally came to a standstill +at the end of a long, narrow street. Arnold alighted and found the +boat-builder's yard, with rows of boats for hire, a short distance +along the front. He chose one and paddled off, glancing at his watch +as he did so. It was barely a quarter of an hour since he had left +Sabatini. + +The river at this spot was broad, but it narrowed suddenly on +rounding a bend about a hundred yards away. The house-boat was in +sight now, moored close to a tiny island. Arnold pulled up alongside +and paused to reconnoiter. To all appearance, it was a derelict. +There were no awnings, no carpets, no baskets of flowers. The +outside was grievously in need of paint. It had an entirely +uninhabited and desolate appearance. Arnold beached his boat upon +the little island and swung himself up onto the deck. There was +still no sign of any human occupancy. He descended into the saloon. +The furniture there was mildewed and musty. Rain had come in through +an open window, and the appearance of the little apartment was +depressing in the extreme. Stooping low, he next examined the four +sleeping apartments. There was no bedding in any one of them, nor +any sign of their having been recently occupied. He passed on into +the kitchen, with the same result. It seemed as though his journey +had been in vain. He made his way back again on deck, and descended +the stairs leading to the fore part of the boat. Here were a couple +of servant's rooms, and, though there was no bedding, one of the +bunks gave him the idea that some one had been lying there recently. +He looked around him and sniffed--there was a distinct smell of +tobacco smoke. He stepped lightly back into the passageway. There +was nothing to be heard, and no material indication of any one's +presence, yet he had the uncomfortable feeling that some one was +watching him--some one only a few feet away. He waited for almost a +minute. Nothing happened, yet his sense of apprehension grew deeper. +For the first time, he associated the idea of danger with his +enterprise. + +"Is any one about here?" he asked. + +There was no reply. He tried another door, which led into a sort of +pantry, without result. The last one was fastened on the inside. + +"Is Mr. Starling in there?" Arnold demanded. + +There was still no reply, yet it was certain now that the end of his +search was at hand. Distinctly he could hear the sound of a man +breathing. + +"Will you tell me if you are there, Mr. Starling?" Arnold again +demanded. "I have a message for you." + +Starling, if indeed he were there, seemed now to be even holding his +breath. Arnold took one step back and charged the door. It went +crashing in, and almost at once there was a loud report. The +closet--it was little more--was filled with smoke, and Arnold heard +distinctly the hiss of a bullet buried in the woodwork over his +shoulder. He caught the revolver from the shaking fingers of the man +who was crouching upon the ground, and slipped it into his pocket. +With his other hand, he held his prisoner powerless. + +"What the devil do you mean by that?" he cried, fiercely. + +Starling--for it was Starling--seemed to have no words. Arnold +dragged him out into the light and for a moment found it hard to +recognize the man. He had lost over a stone in weight. His cheeks +were hollow, and his eyes had the hunted look in them of some wild +animal. + +"What do you want with me?" he muttered. "Can't you see I am hiding +here? What business is it of yours to interfere?" + +Arnold looked at him from head to foot. The man was shaking all +over; the coward's fear was upon him. + +"What on earth are you in this state for?" he exclaimed. "Whom are +you hiding from? You have been set free. Is it the Rosario business +still? You have been set free once." + +Starling moistened his lips rapidly. + +"They set me free," he muttered, "because one of their witnesses +failed. They had no case; they wouldn't bring me up. But I am still +under surveillance. The sergeant as good as told me that they'd have +me before long." + +"Well, at present, I've got you," Arnold said coolly. "Have you any +luggage?" + +"No! Why?" + +"Because you are coming along with me." + +"Where?" + +"I am taking you to Count Sabatini," Arnold informed him. "He is at +his villa about ten miles down the river." + +Starling flopped upon his knees. + +"For the love of God, don't take me to him!" he begged. + +"Why not?" + +"He is a devil, that man," Starling whispered, confidentially. "He +would blow out my brains or yours or his own, without a second's +hesitation, if it suited him. He hasn't any nerves nor any fear nor +any pity. He will laugh at me--he won't understand, he is so +reckless!" + +"Well, we're going to him, anyhow," Arnold said. "I don't see how +you can be any worse off than hiding in this beastly place. Upstairs +and into the boat, please." + +Starling struggled weakly to get away but he was like a child in +Arnold's hands. + +"You had much better come quietly," the latter advised. "You'll have +to come, anyway, and if you're really afraid of being arrested +again, I should think Count Sabatini would be the best man to aid +your escape." + +"But he won't let me escape," Starling protested. "He doesn't +understand danger. I am not made like him. My nerve has gone. I came +into this too late in life." + +"Jump!" Arnold ordered, linking his arm into his companion's. + +They landed, somehow, upon the island. Arnold pointed to the boat. + +"Please be sensible," he begged, "now, at any rate. There may be +people passing at any moment." + +"I was safe in there," Starling mumbled. "Why the devil couldn't you +have left me alone?" + +Arnold bent over his oars. + +"Safe!" he repeated, contemptuously. "You were doing the one thing +which a guilty man would do. People would have known before long +that you were there, obviously hiding. I think that Count Sabatini +will propose something very much better." + +"Perhaps so," Starling muttered. "Perhaps he will help me to get +away." + +They reached the village and Arnold paid for the hire of his boat. +Then he hurried Starling into the car, and a moment or two later +they were off. + +"Is it far away?" Starling asked, nervously. + +"Ten minutes' ride. Sabatini has arranged it all very well. We get +out, cross a meadow, and find him waiting for us in the punt." + +"You won't leave me alone with him on the river?" Starling begged. + +"No, I shall be there," Arnold promised. + +"There's nothing would suit him so well," Starling continued, "as to +see me down at the bottom of the Thames, with a stone around my +neck. I tell you I'm frightened of him. If I can get out of this +mess," he went on, "I'm off back to New York. Any job there is +better than this. What are we stopping for? Say, what's wrong now?" + +"It's all right," Arnold answered. "Step out. We cross this meadow +on foot. When we reach the other end, we shall find Sabatini. Come +along." + +They turned toward the river, Starling muttering, now and then, to +himself. In a few minutes they came in sight of the punt. Sabatini +was still there, with his head reclining among the cushions. He +looked up and waved his hand. + +"A record, my young friend!" he exclaimed. "I congratulate you, +indeed. You have been gone exactly fifty-five minutes, and I gave +you an hour and a half at the least. Our friend Starling was glad to +see you, I hope?" + +"He showed his pleasure," Arnold remarked dryly, "in a most original +manner. However, here he is. Shall I take you across now?" + +"If you please," Sabatini agreed. + +He sat up and looked at Starling. The latter hung his head and shook +like a guilty schoolboy. + +"It was so foolish of you," Sabatini murmured, "but we'll talk of +that presently. They were civil to you at the police court, eh?" + +"I was never charged," Starling replied. "They couldn't get their +evidence together." + +"Still, they asked you questions, no doubt?" Sabatini continued. + +"I told them nothing," Starling replied. "On my soul and honor, I +told them nothing!" + +"It was very wise of you," Sabatini said. "It might have led to +disappointments--to trouble of many sorts. So you told them nothing, +eh? That is excellent. After we have landed, I must hand you over to +my valet. Then we will have a little talk." + +They were in the backwater now, drifting on toward the lawn. +Starling shrank back at the sight of the two women. + +"I can't face it," he muttered. "I tell you I have lost my nerve." + +"You have nothing to fear," Sabatini said quietly. "There is no one +here likely to do you or wish you any harm." + +Fenella came down to the steps to meet them. + +"So our prodigal has returned," she remarked, smiling at Starling. + +"We have rescued Mr. Starling from a solitary picnic upon his +house-boat," Sabatini explained, suavely. "We cannot have our +friends cultivating misanthropy." + +Mr. Weatherley, who had returned from the boat-builder's, half rose +from his chair and sat down again, frowning. He watched the two men +cross the lawn towards the house. Then he turned to Ruth and shook +his head. + +"I have a great regard for Count Sabatini," he declared, "a great +regard, but there are some of his friends--very many of them, in +fact--whose presence here I could dispense with. That man is one of +them. Do you know where he was a few nights ago, Miss Lalonde?" + +She shook her head. + +"In prison," Mr. Weatherley said, impressively; "arrested on a +serious charge." + +Her eyes asked him a question. He stooped towards her and lowered +his voice. + +"Murder," he whispered; "the murder of Mr. Rosario!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +TROUBLE BREWING + + +Through the winding lanes, between the tall hedges, honeysuckle +wreathed and starred with wild roses, out onto the broad main road, +Sabatini's great car sped noiselessly on its way back to London. +They seemed to pass in a few moments from the cool, perfumed air of +the country into the hot, dry atmosphere of the London suburbs. +Almost before they realized that they were on their homeward way, +the fiery glow of the city was staining the clouds above their +heads. Arnold leaned a little forward, watching, as the car raced on +to its goal. This ride through the darkness seemed to supply the +last thrill of excitement to their wonderful day. He glanced towards +Ruth, who lay back among the cushions, as though sleeping, by his +side. + +"You are tired?" + +"Yes," she answered simply. + +They were in the region now of electric cars--wonderful vehicles +ablaze with light, flashing towards them every few minutes, laden +with Sunday evening pleasure seekers. Their automobile, however, +perfectly controlled by Sabatini's Italian chauffeur, swung from one +side of the road to the other and held on its way with scarcely +abated speed. + +"You have enjoyed the day?" he asked. + +She opened her eyes and looked at him. He saw the shadows, and +wondered. + +"Of course," she whispered. + +His momentary wonder at her reticence passed. Again he was leaning a +little forward, looking up the broad thoroughfare with its double +row of lights, its interminable rows of houses growing in importance +as they rushed on. + +"It is we ourselves who pass now along the lighted way!" he +exclaimed, holding her arm for, a moment. "It is an enchanted +journey, ours, Ruth." + +She laughed bitterly. + +"An enchanted journey which leads to two very dreary attic rooms on +the sixth floor of a poverty-stricken house," she reminded him. "It +leads back to the smoke-stained city, to the four walls within which +one dreams empty dreams." + +"It isn't so bad as that," he protested. + +Her lips trembled for a moment; she half closed her eyes. An impulse +of pain passed like a spasm across her tired features. + +"It is different for you," she murmured. "Every day you escape. For +me there is no escape." + +He felt a momentary twinge of selfishness. Yet, after all, the great +truths were incontrovertible. He could lighten her lot but little. +There was very little of himself that he could give her--of his +youth, his strength, his vigorous hold upon life. Through all the +tangle of his expanding interests in existence, the medley of +strange happenings in which he found himself involved, one thing +alone was clear. He was passing on into a life making larger demands +upon, him, a life in which their companionship must naturally +become a slighter thing. Nevertheless, he spoke to her reassuringly. + +"You cannot believe, Ruth," he said, "that I shall ever forget? We +have been through too much together, too many dark days." + +She sighed. + +"There wasn't much for either of us to look forward to, was there, +when we first looked down on the river together and you began to +tell me fairy stories." + +"They kept our courage alive," he declared. "I am not sure that they +are not coming true." + +She half closed her eyes. + +"For you, Arnold," she murmured. "Not all the fancies that were ever +spun in the brain of any living person could alter life very much +for me." + +He took her hand and held it tightly. Yet it was hard to know what +to say to her. It was the inevitable tragedy, this, of their sexes +and her infirmity. He realized in those few minutes something of how +she was feeling,--the one who is left upon the lonely island while +the other is borne homeward into the sunshine and tumult of life. +There was little, indeed, which he could say. It was not the hour, +this, for protestation. + +They passed along Piccadilly, across Leicester Square, and into the +Strand. The wayfarers in the streets, of whom there were still +plenty, seemed to be lingering about in sheer joy of the cooler +night after the unexpected heat of the day, the women in light +clothes, the men with their coats thrown open and carrying their +hats. They passed down the Strand and into Adam Street, coming at +last to a standstill before the tall, gloomy house at the corner of +the Terrace. Arnold stepped out onto the pavement and helped his +companion to alight. The chauffeur lifted his hat and the car +glided away. As they stood there, for a moment, upon the pavement, +and Arnold pushed open the heavy, shabby door, it seemed, indeed, as +though the whole day might have been a dream. + +Ruth moved wearily along the broken, tesselated pavement, and paused +for a moment before the first flight of stairs. Arnold, taking her +stick from her, caught her up in his arms. Her fingers closed around +his neck and she gave a little sigh of relief. + +"Will you really carry me up all the way, Arnie?" she whispered. "I +am so tired to-night. You are sure that you can manage it?" + +He laughed gayly. + +"I have done it many times before," he reminded her. "To-night I +feel as strong as a dozen men." + +One by one they climbed the flight of stone steps. Curiously enough, +notwithstanding the strength of which he had justly boasted, as they +neared the top of the house he felt his breath coming short and his +heart beating faster, as though some unusual strain were upon him. +She had tightened her grasp upon his neck. She seemed, somehow, to +have come closer to him, yet to hang like a dead weight in his arms. +Her cheek was touching his. Once, toward the end, he looked into her +face, and the fire of her eyes startled him. + +"You are not really tired," he muttered. + +"I am resting like this," she whispered. + +He stood at last upon the top landing. He set her down with a little +thrill, assailed by a medley of sensations, the significance of +which confused him. She seemed still to cling to him, and she +pointed to his door. + +"For five minutes," she begged, "let us sit in our chairs and look +down at the river. To-night it is too hot to sleep." + +Even while he opened his door, he hesitated. + +"What about Isaac?" he asked. + +She shivered and looked over her shoulder. They were in his room now +and she closed the door. On the threshold she stood quite still for +a moment, as though listening. There was something in her face which +alarmed him. + +"Do you know, I believe that I am afraid to go back," she said. +"Isaac has been stranger than ever these last few days. All the time +he is locked up in his room, and he shows himself only at night." + +Arnold dragged her chair up to the window and installed her +comfortably. He himself was thinking of Isaac's face under the +gaslight, as he had seen him stepping away from the taxicab. + +"Isaac was always queer," he reminded her, reassuringly. + +She drew him down to her side. + +"There has been a difference these last few days," she whispered. "I +am afraid--I am terribly afraid that he has done something really +wrong." + +Arnold felt a little shiver of fear himself. + +"You must remember," he said quietly, "that after all Isaac is, in a +measure, outside your life. No one can influence him for either good +or evil. He is not like other men. He must go his own way, and I, +too, am afraid that it may be a troublous one. He chose it for +himself and neither you nor I can help. I wouldn't think about him +at all, dear, if you can avoid it. And for yourself, remember always +that you have another protector." + +The faintest of smiles parted her lips. In the moonlight, which was +already stealing into the room through the bare, uncurtained window, +her face seemed like a piece of beautiful marble statuary, ghostly, +yet in a single moment exquisitely human. + +"I have no claim upon you, Arnold," she reminded him, "and I think +that soon you will pass out of my life. It is only natural. You must +go on, I must remain. And that is the end of it," she added, with a +little quiver of the lips. "Now let us finish talking about +ourselves. I want to talk about your new friends." + +"Tell me what you really think of them?" he begged. "Count Sabatini +has been so kind to me that if I try to think about him at all I am +already prejudiced." + +"I think," she replied slowly, "that Count Sabatini is the strangest +man whom I ever met. Do you remember when he stood and looked down +upon us? I felt--but it was so foolish!" + +"You felt what?" he persisted. + +She shook her head. + +"I cannot tell. As though we were not strangers at all. I suppose it +is what they call mesmerism. He had that soft, delightful way of +speaking, and gentle mannerism. There was nothing abrupt or new +about him. He seemed, somehow, to become part of the life of any one +in whom he chose to interest himself in the slightest. And he talked +so delightfully, Arnold. I cannot tell you how kind he was to me." + +Arnold laughed. + +"It's a clear case of hero worship," he declared. "You're going to +be as bad as I have been." + +"And yet," she said slowly, "it is his sister of whom I think all +the time. Fenella she calls herself, doesn't she?" + +"You like her, too?" Arnold asked eagerly. + +"I hate her," was the low, fierce reply. + +Arnold drew a little away. + +"You can't mean it!" he exclaimed. "You can't really mean that you +don't like her!" + +Ruth clutched at his arm as though jealous of his instinctive +disappointment. + +"I know that it's brutally ungracious," she declared. "It's a sort +of madness, even. But I hate her because she is the most beautiful +thing I have ever seen here in life. I hate her for that, and I hate +her for her strength. Did you see her come across the lawn to us +to-night, Arnold?" + +He nodded enthusiastically. + +"You mean in that smoke-colored muslin dress?" + +"She has no right to wear clothes like that!" Ruth cried. "She does +it so that men may see how beautiful she is. I--well, I hate her!" + +There was a silence. Then Ruth rose slowly to her feet. Her tone was +suddenly altered, her eyes pleaded with his. + +"Don't take any notice of me to-night, Arnold," she implored. "It +has been such a wonderful day, and I am not used to so much +excitement. I am afraid that I am a little hysterical. Do be kind +and help me across to my room." + +"Is there any hurry?" he asked. "It hasn't struck twelve yet." + +"I want to go, please," she begged. "I shall say foolish things if I +stay here much longer, and I don't want to. Let me go." + +He obeyed her without further question. Once more he supported her +with his arms, but she kept her face turned away. When he had +reached her door he would have left her, but she still clutched his +arm. + +"I am foolish," she whispered, "foolish and wicked to-night. And +besides, I am afraid. It is all because I am overtired. Come in with +me for one moment, please, and let me be sure that Isaac is all +right. Feel how I am trembling." + +"Of course I will come," he answered. "Isaac can't be angry with me +to-night, anyhow, for my clothes are old and dusty enough." + +He opened the door and they passed across the threshold. Then they +both stopped short and Ruth gave a little start. The room was lit +with several candles. There was no sign of Isaac, but a middle-aged +man, with black beard and moustache, had risen to his feet at their +entrance. He glanced at Ruth with keen interest, at Arnold with a +momentary curiosity. + +"What are you doing here?" Ruth demanded. "What right have you in +this room?" + +The man did not answer her question. + +"I shall be glad," he said, "if you will come in and shut the door. +If you are Miss Ruth Lalonde, I have a few questions to ask you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +ISAAC AT BAY + + +Arnold had a swift premonition of what had happened. He led Ruth to +a chair and stood by her side. Ruth gazed around the room in +bewilderment. The curtained screen which divided it had been torn +down, and the door of the inner apartment, which Isaac kept so +zealously locked, stood open. Not only that, but the figure of a +second man was dimly seen moving about inside, and, from the light +shining out, it was obviously in some way illuminated. + +"I don't understand who you are or what you are doing here," Ruth +declared, trembling in every limb. + +"My name is Inspector Grant," the man replied. "My business is with +Isaac Lalonde, who I understand is your uncle." + +"What do you want with him?" she asked. + +The inspector made no direct reply. + +"There are a few questions," he said, "which it is my duty to put to +you." + +"Questions?" she repeated. + +"Do you know where your uncle is?" + +Ruth shook her head. + +"I left him here this morning," she replied. "He has not been out +for several days. I expected to find him here when I returned." + +"We have been here since four o'clock," the man said. "There was no +one here when we arrived, nor has any one been since. Your uncle has +no regular hours, I suppose?" + +"He is very uncertain," Ruth answered. "He does newspaper reporting, +and he sometimes has to work late." + +"Can you tell me what newspaper he is engaged upon?" + +"The _Signal_, for one," Ruth replied. + +Inspector Grant was silent for a moment. + +"The _Signal_ newspaper offices were seized by the police some days +ago," he remarked. "Do you know of any other journal on which your +uncle worked?" + +She shook her head. + +"He tells me very little of his affairs," she faltered. + +The inspector pointed backwards into the further corner of the +apartment. + +"Do you often go into his room there?" he asked. + +"I have not been for months," Ruth assured him. "My uncle keeps it +locked up. He told me that there had been some trouble at the office +and he was printing something there." + +The inspector rose slowly to his feet. On the table by his side was +a pile of articles covered over with a tablecloth. Very deliberately +he removed the latter and looked keenly at Ruth. She shrank back +with a little scream. There were half a dozen murderous-looking +pistols there, a Mannerlicher rifle, and a quantity of ammunition. + +"What does your uncle need with these?" the inspector asked dryly. + +"How can I tell?" Ruth replied. "I have never seen one of them +before. I never knew that they were in the place." + +"Nor I," Arnold echoed. "I have been a constant visitor here, too, +and I have never seen firearms of any sort before." + +The inspector turned towards him. + +"Are you a friend of Isaac Lalonde?" he asked. + +"I am not," Arnold answered. "I am a friend of his niece here, Miss +Ruth Lalonde. I know very little of Isaac, although I see him here +sometimes." + +"I should like to know your name, if you have no objection," the +inspector remarked. + +"My name is Chetwode," Arnold told him. "I occupy a room on the +other side of the passage." + +"When did you last see Isaac Lalonde?" + +Arnold did not hesitate for a moment. What he had seen at Hampstead +belonged to himself. He deliberately wiped out the memory of it from +his thoughts. + +"On Thursday evening here." + +The inspector made a note in his pocket-book. Then he turned again +to Ruth. + +"You can give me no explanation, then, as to your uncle's absence +to-night?" + +"None at all. I can only say what I told you before--that I expected +to find him here on my return." + +"Was he here when you left this morning?" + +"I believe so," Ruth assured him. "He very seldom comes out of his +room until the middle of the day, and he does not like my going to +him there. As we started very early, I did not disturb him." + +"Have you any objection," the inspector asked, "to telling me where +you have spent the whole of to-day?" + +"Not the slightest," Arnold interposed. "We have been to Bourne End, +and to a village in the neighborhood." + +The inspector nodded thoughtfully. Ruth leaned a little forward in +her chair. Her voice trembled with anxiety. + +"Please tell me," she begged, "what is the charge against my uncle?" + +The inspector glanced over his shoulder at that inner room, from +which fitful gleams of light still came. He looked down at the heap +of pistols and ammunition by his side. + +"The charge," he said slowly, "is of a somewhat serious nature." + +Ruth was twisting up her glove in her hand. + +"I do not believe," she declared, "that Isaac has ever done anything +really wrong. He is a terrible socialist, and he is always railing +at the rich, but I do not believe that he would hurt any one." + +The inspector looked grimly at the little pile of firearms. + +"A pretty sort of armory, this," he remarked, "for a peace-loving +man. What do you suppose he keeps them here for, in his room? What +do you suppose--" + +They all three heard it at the same time. The inspector broke off in +the middle of his sentence. Ruth, shrinking in her chair, turned her +head fearfully towards the door, which still stood half open. Arnold +was looking breathlessly in the same direction. Faintly, but very +distinctly, they heard the patter of footsteps climbing the stone +stairs. It sounded as though a man were walking upon tiptoe, yet +dragging his feet wearily. The inspector held up his hand, and his +subordinate, who had been searching the inner room, came stealthily +out. Ruth, obeying her first impulse, opened her lips to shriek. The +inspector leaned forward and his hand suddenly closed over her +mouth. He looked towards Arnold, who was suffering from a moment's +indecision. + +"If you utter a sound," he whispered, "you will be answerable to the +law." + +Nobody spoke or moved. It was an odd little tableau, grouped +together in the dimly lit room. The footsteps had reached the last +flight of stairs now. They came slowly across the landing, then +paused, as though the person who approached could see the light +shining through the partly open door. They heard a voice, a voice +almost unrecognizable, a voice hoarse and tremulous with fear, the +voice of a hunted man. + +"Are you there, Ruth?" + +Ruth struggled to reply, but ineffectually. Slowly, and as though +with some foreboding of danger, the footsteps came nearer and +nearer. An unseen hand cautiously pushed the door open. Isaac stood +upon the threshold, peering anxiously into the room. The inspector +turned and faced him. + +"Isaac Lalonde," he said, "I have a warrant for your arrest. I shall +want you to come with me to Bow Street." + +With the certainty of danger, Isaac's fear seemed to vanish into +thin air. He saw the open door of his ransacked inner room and the +piled-up heap of weapons upon the table. Face to face with actual +danger, the, courage of a wild animal at bay seemed suddenly +vouchsafed to him. + +"Come with you to Hell!" he cried. "I think not, Mr. Inspector. Are +these the witnesses against me?" + +He pointed to Ruth and Arnold. Ruth clutched her stick and staggered +tremblingly to her feet. + +"How can you say that, Isaac!" she exclaimed. "Arnold and I have +only been home from the country a few minutes. We walked into the +room and found these men here. Isaac, I am terrified. Tell me that +you have not done anything really wrong!" + +Isaac made no reply. All the time he watched the inspector +stealthily. The latter moved forward now, as though to make the +arrest. Then Isaac's hand shot out from his pocket and a long stream +of yellow fire flashed through the room. The inspector sprang back. +Isaac's hand, with the smoke still curling from the muzzle of his +pistol, remained extended. + +"That was only a warning," Isaac declared, calmly. "I aimed at the +wall there. Next time it may be different." + +There was a breathless silence. The inspector stood his ground but +he did not advance. + +"Let me caution you, Isaac Lalonde," he said, "that the use of +firearms by any one in your position is fatal. You can shoot me, if +you like, and my assistant, but if you do you will certainly be +hanged. It is my duty to arrest you and I am going to do it." + +Isaac's hand was still extended. This time he had lowered the muzzle +of his pistol. The inspector was only human and he paused, for he +was looking straight into the mouth of it. Isaac slowly backed +toward the door. + +"Remember, you are warned!" he cried. "If any one pursues me, I +shoot!" + +His departure was so sudden and so speedy that he was down the +first flight of stairs before the inspector started. Arnold, who was +nearest the door, made a movement as though to follow, but Ruth +threw her arms around him. The policeman who had been examining the +other room rushed past them both. + +"You shall not go!" Ruth sobbed. "It is no affair of yours. It is +between the police and Isaac." + +"I want to stop his shooting," Arnold replied. "He must be mad to +use firearms against the police. Let me go, Ruth." + +"You can't!" she shrieked. "You can't catch him now!" + +Then she suddenly held her ears. Three times quickly they heard the +report of the pistol. There was a moment's silence, then more shots. +Arnold picked Ruth up in his arms and, running with her across the +landing, laid her in his own easy-chair. + +"I must see what has happened!" he exclaimed, breathlessly. "Wait +here." + +She was powerless to resist him. He tore himself free from the +clutch of her fingers and rushed down the stairs, expecting every +moment to come across the body of one of the policemen. To his +immense relief, he reached the street without discovering any signs +of the tragedy he feared. Adam Street was deserted, but in the +gardens below the Terrace he could hear the sound of voices, and a +torn piece of clothing hung from the spike of one of the railings. +Isaac had evidently made for the gardens and the river. The sound of +the chase grew fainter and fainter, and there were no more shots. +Arnold, after a few minutes' hesitation, turned round and reclimbed +the stairs. The place smelt of gunpowder, and little puffs of smoke +were curling upwards. + +Arrived on the top landing, he closed the door of Isaac's room and +entered his own apartment. Ruth had dragged herself to the window +and was leaning out. + +"He has gone across the gardens," she cried breathlessly. "I saw him +running. Perhaps he will get away, after all. I saw one of the +policemen fall down, and he was quite a long way ahead then." + +"At any rate, no harm was done by the firing," Arnold declared. "I +don't think he really shot at them at all." + +They knelt side by side before the window-sill. The gardens were +still faintly visible in the dim moonlight, but all signs of +disturbance had passed away. She clung nervously to his arm. + +"Arnold," she whispered, "tell me, what do you think he has done?" + +"I don't suppose he has done anything very much," Arnold replied, +cheerfully. "What I really think is that he has got mixed up with +some of these anarchists, writing for this wretched paper, and they +have probably let him in for some of their troubles." + +They stayed there for a measure of time they were neither of them +able to compute. At last, with a little sigh, he rose to his feet. +For the first time they began to realize what had happened. + +"Isaac will not come back," he said. + +She clung to him hysterically. + +"Arnold," she cried, "I am nervous. I could not sleep in that room. +I never want to see it again as long as I live." + +For a moment he was perplexed. Then he smiled. "It's rather an +awkward situation for us attic dwellers," he remarked. "I'll bring +your couch in here, if you like, and you can lie before the window, +where it's cool." + +"You don't mind?" she begged. "I couldn't even think of going to +sleep. I should sit up all night, anyhow." + +"Not a bit," he assured her. "I don't think it would be much use +thinking about bed." + +He made his way back into Isaac's apartments, brought out her couch +and arranged it by the window. She lay down with a little sigh of +relief. Then he dragged up his own easy chair to her side and held +her hand. They heard Big Ben strike two o'clock, and soon afterwards +Arnold began to doze. When he awoke, with a sudden start, her hand +was still in his. Eastward, over the city, a faint red glow hung in +the heavens. The world was still silent, but in the delicate, pearly +twilight the trees in the gardens, the bridge, and the buildings in +the distance--everything seemed to stand out with a peculiar and +unfamiliar distinctness. She, too, was sitting up, and they looked +out of the window together. Five o'clock was striking now. + +"I've been asleep!" Arnold exclaimed. "Something woke me up." + +She nodded. + +"There is some one knocking at the door outside," she whispered. +"That is what woke you. I heard it several minutes ago." + +He jumped up at once. + +"I will go and see what it is," he declared. + +He opened the door and looked out onto the landing. The knocking +was at the door of Isaac's apartment. Two policemen and a man in +plain clothes were standing there. + +"There is no one in those rooms," Arnold said. "The door shuts with +a spring lock, but I have a key here, if you wish to enter." + +The sergeant looked at Arnold and approved of him. + +"I have an order to remove some firearms and other articles," he +announced. "Also, can you tell me where the young woman--Ruth +Lalonde--is?" + +"She is in my room," Arnold replied. "She was too terrified to +remain alone over there. You don't want her, do you?" he asked, +anxiously. + +The man shook his head. + +"I have no definite instructions concerning her," he said, "but we +should like to know that she has no intention of going away." + +Arnold threw open the door before them. + +"I am sure that she has not," he declared. "She is quite an invalid, +and besides, she has nowhere else to go." + +The sergeant gave a few orders respecting the movement of a pile of +articles covered over by a tablecloth, which had been dragged out of +Isaac's room. Before he had finished, Arnold ventured upon the +question which had been all the time trembling upon his lips. + +"This man Isaac Lalonde--was he arrested?" + +The sergeant made no immediate reply. + +"Tell me, at least, was any one hurt?" Arnold begged. + +"No one was shot, if you mean that," the sergeant admitted. + +"Is Isaac in custody?" + +"He very likely is by this time," the sergeant said. "As a matter of +fact, he got away. A friend of yours, is he?" + +"Certainly not," Arnold answered. "I have an attic on the other side +of the landing there, and I have made friends with the girl. My +interest in Isaac Lalonde is simply because she is his niece. Can +you tell me what the charge is against him?" + +"We believe him to be one of a very dangerous gang of criminals," +the sergeant replied. "I can't tell you more than that. If you take +my advice, sir," he continued, civilly, "you will have as little as +possible to do with either the man or the girl. There's no doubt +about the man's character, and birds of a feather generally flock +together." + +"I am perfectly certain," Arnold declared, vigorously, "that if +there has been anything irregular in her uncle's life, Miss Lalonde +knew nothing of it. We both knew that he talked wildly, but, for the +rest, his doings have been as much a mystery to her as to me." + +The sergeant was summoned by one of his subordinates. The two men +stood whispering together for a few moments. He turned finally +toward Arnold. + +"I shall have to ask you to leave us now, sir," he said civilly. + +"There's nothing more you can tell me about this affair, I suppose?" +Arnold asked. + +The sergeant shook his head. + +"You will hear all about it later on, sir." + +Arnold turned reluctantly back to his own room, where Ruth, was +anxiously waiting. He closed the door carefully behind him. + +"Isaac has escaped," he announced, "and no one was hurt." + +She drew a little sigh of immense relief. + +"Did they tell you what the charge was?" + +"Not definitely," he replied. "So far as I could make out from what +the sergeant said, it was keeping bad company as much as anything." + +"The police are in the rooms now?" she asked. + +"Three more of them," he assented. "I don't know what they want but +evidently you'll have to stay here. Now I'm going to light this +spirit-lamp and make some coffee." + +He moved cheerfully about the room, and she watched him all the time +with almost pathetic earnestness. Presently he brought the breakfast +things over to her side and sat at the foot of her couch while the +water boiled. He took her hand and held it caressingly. + +"I shouldn't worry about Isaac," he said. "I don't suppose he is +really very much mixed up with these fellows. He'll have to keep out +of the way for a time, that's all." + +"There were the pistols," she faltered, doubtfully. + +"I expect they saddled him with them because he was the least likely +to be suspected," Arnold suggested. "There's the water boiling +already. Now for it." + +He cut some bread and butter and made the coffee. They ate and drank +almost in silence. Through the open window now the roar of traffic +was growing every minute in volume. Across the bridge the daily +stream of men and vehicles had commenced to flow. Presently he +glanced at the clock and, putting down his coffee cup, rose to his +feet. + +"In a few minutes, dear, I must be off," he announced. "You won't +mind being left, will you?" + +Her lips trembled. + +"Why should I?" she murmured. "Of course you must go to work." + +He went behind his little screen, where he plunged his head into a +basin of cold water. When he reappeared, a few minutes later, he was +ready to start. + +"I expect those fellows will have cleared out from your rooms by +now," he said, throwing open the door. "Hullo, what's this?" + +A trunk and hatbox had been dragged out onto the landing. A +policeman was sitting on a chair in front of the closed door, +reading a newspaper. + +"We have collected the young lady's belongings, so far as possible, +sir," he remarked. "If there is anything else belonging to her, she +may be able to get it later on." + +"Do you mean to say that she can't go back to her own rooms?" Arnold +demanded. + +"I am sorry, sir," the man replied, "but I am here to see that no +one enters them under any pretext." + +Arnold looked at him blankly. + +"But what is the young lady to do?" he protested. "She has no other +home." + +The policeman remained unmoved. + +"Sorry, sir," he said, "but her friends will have to find her one +for the time being. She certainly can't come in here." + +Arnold felt a sudden weight upon his arm. Ruth had been standing by +his side and had heard everything. He led her gently back. She was +trembling violently. + +"Don't worry about me, Arnold," she begged. "You go away. By the +time you come back, I--I shall have found a home somewhere." + +He passed his arm around her. A wild flash in her eyes had suddenly +revealed her thought. + +"Unless you promise me," he said firmly, "that I shall find you on +that couch when I return this evening, I shall not leave this room." + +"But, Arnold,--" + +"The business of Samuel Weatherley & Company," he interrupted, +glancing at the clock, "will be entirely disorganized unless you +promise." + +"I promise," she murmured faintly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +MR. WEATHERLEY'S DISAPPEARANCE + + +Arnold arrived at Tooley Street only a few minutes after his usual +time. He made his way at once into the private office and commenced +his work. At ten o'clock Mr. Jarvis came in. The pile of letters +upon Mr. Weatherley's desk was as yet untouched. + +"Any idea where the governor is?" the cashier asked. "He's nearly +half an hour late." + +Arnold glanced at the clock. + +"Mr. Weatherley is spending the week-end down the river," he said. +"I dare say the trains up are a little awkward." + +Mr. Jarvis looked at him curiously. + +"How do you happen to know that?" + +"I was there yesterday for a short time," Arnold told him. + +Mr. Jarvis whistled softly. + +"Seems to me you're getting pretty chummy with the governor," he +remarked; "or is it Mrs. Weatherley, eh?" + +Arnold lifted his head and looked fixedly at Mr. Jarvis. The latter +suddenly remembered that he had come in to search among the letters +for some invoices. He busied himself for a moment or two, sorting +them out. + +"Well, well," he said, "I hope the governor will soon be here, +anyway. There are a lot of things I want to ask him about this +morning." + +A telephone bell at Arnold's desk began to ring. Arnold lifted the +receiver to his ear. + +"Is that Mr. Weatherley's office?" a familiar voice inquired. + +"Good morning, Mrs. Weatherley," he replied. "This is the office, +and I am Arnold Chetwode. We were just wondering what had become of +Mr. Weatherley." + +"What had become of him?" the voice repeated. "But is he not there?" + +"No sign of him at present," Arnold answered. + +There was a short silence. Then Mrs. Weatherley spoke again. + +"He left here," she said, "absurdly early--soon after seven, I think +it was--to motor up." + +"Has the car returned?" Arnold asked. + +"More than an hour ago," was the prompt reply. + +"I can assure you that he has not been here," Arnold declared. +"You're speaking from Bourne End, I suppose?" + +"Yes!" + +"Will you please ask the chauffeur," Arnold suggested, "where he +left Mr. Weatherley?" + +"Of course I will," she replied. "That is very sensible. You must +hold the line until I come back." + +Arnold withdrew the receiver for a few minutes from his ear. Mr. +Jarvis had been listening to the conversation, his mouth open with +curiosity. + +"Is that about the governor?" he asked. + +Arnold nodded. + +"It was Mrs. Weatherley speaking," he said. "It seems Mr. Weatherley +left Bourne End soon after seven o'clock this morning." + +"Soon after seven o'clock?" Mr. Jarvis repeated. + +"The car has been back there quite a long time," Arnold continued. +"Mrs. Weatherley has gone to make inquiries of the chauffeur." + +"Most extraordinary thing," Mr. Jarvis muttered. "I can't say that +I've ever known the governor as late as this, unless he was ill." + +Arnold put the receiver once more to his ear. In a moment or two +Mrs. Weatherley returned. Her voice was a little graver. + +"I have spoken to the chauffeur," she announced. "He says that they +called first up in Hampstead to see if there were any letters, and +that afterwards he drove Mr. Weatherley over London Bridge and put +him down at the usual spot, just opposite to the London & +Westminster Bank. For some reason or other, as I dare say you know," +she went on, "Mr. Weatherley never likes to bring the car into +Tooley Street. It was ten minutes past nine when he set him down and +left him there." + +Arnold glanced at the clock. + +"It is now," he said, "a quarter to eleven. The spot you speak of is +only two hundred yards away, but I can assure you that Mr. +Weatherley has not yet arrived." + +Mrs. Weatherley began to laugh softly. Even down the wires, that +laugh seemed to bring with it some flavor of her own wonderful +personality. + +"Will there be a paragraph in the evening papers?" she asked, +mockingly. "I think I can see it now upon all the placards: +'Mysterious disappearance of a city merchant.' Poor Samuel!" + +Arnold found it quite impossible to answer her lightly. The fingers, +indeed, which held the receiver to his ear, were shaking a little. + +"Mrs. Weatherley," he said, "can I see you to-day--as soon as +possible?" + +"Why, of course you can, you silly boy," she laughed back. "I am +here all alone and I weary myself. Come by the next train or take a +taxicab. You can leave word for Mr, Weatherley, when he arrives, +that you have come by my special wish. He will not mind then." + +"There is no sign of Mr. Weatherley at present," Arnold replied, +"and I could not leave here until I had seen him. I thought that +perhaps you might be coming up to town for something." + +He could almost hear her yawn. + +"Really," she declared, after a slight pause, "it is not a bad idea. +The sun will not shine to-day; there is a gray mist everywhere and +it depresses me. You will lunch with me if I come up?" + +"If you please." + +"I do please," she declared. "I think we will go to our own little +place--the Café André, and I will be there at half-past twelve. You +will be waiting for me?" + +"Without a doubt," Arnold promised. + +She began to laugh again. + +"Without a doubt!" she mocked him. "You are a very stolid young man, +Arnold." + +"To tell you the truth," he admitted, "I am a little bothered just +now. We want Mr. Weatherley badly, and I don't understand his +having been within a few hundred yards of the office nearly two +hours ago and not having turned up here." + +"He will arrive," she replied confidently. "Have no fear of that. +There are others to whom accidents and adventures might happen, but +not, I think, to Mr. Samuel Weatherley. I am sorry that you are +bothered, though, Mr. Chetwode. I think that to console you I shall +wear one of my two new muslin gowns which have just arrived from +Paris." + +"What is she talking about all this time?" Mr. Jarvis, who was +itching with curiosity, broke in. + +"I am called away now," Arnold declared down the telephone. "I shall +be quite punctual. Good-bye!" + +He heard her laugh again as he hung up the receiver. + +"Well, well," Mr. Jarvis demanded, "what is it all about? Have you +heard anything?" + +"Nothing of any importance, I am afraid," Arnold admitted. "Mrs. +Weatherley laughs at the idea of anything having happened to her +husband." + +"If nothing has happened to him," Mr. Jarvis protested, "where is +he?" + +"Is there any call he could have paid on the way?" Arnold suggested. + +"I have never known him to do such a thing in his life," Mr. Jarvis +replied. "Besides, there is no business call which could take two +hours at this time of the morning." + +They rang up the few business friends whom Mr. Weatherley had in the +vicinity, Guy's Hospital, the bank, and the police station. The +reply was the same in all cases. Nobody had seen or heard anything +of Mr. Weatherley. Arnold even took down his hat and walked +aimlessly up the street to the spot where Mr. Weatherley had left +the motor car. The policeman on duty had heard nothing of any +accident. The shoe-black, at the top of the steps leading down to +the wharves, remembered distinctly Mr. Weatherley's alighting at the +usual hour. Arnold returned to the office and sat down facing the +little safe which Mr. Weatherley had made over to him. After all, it +might be true, then, this thing which he had sometimes dimly +suspected. Beneath his very commonplace exterior, Mr. Weatherley had +carried with him a secret.... + +At half-past twelve precisely, Arnold stood upon the threshold of +the passage leading into André's Café. Already the people were +beginning to crowd into the lower room, a curious, cosmopolitan +mixture, mostly foreigners, and nearly all arriving in twos and +threes from the neighboring business houses. At twenty minutes to +one, Mr. Weatherley's beautiful car turned slowly into the narrow +street and drove up to the entrance. Arnold hurried forward to open +the door and Fenella descended. She came to him with radiant face, a +wonderful vision in her spotless white gown and French hat with its +drooping veil. Arnold, notwithstanding his anxieties, found it +impossible not to be carried away for the moment by a wave of +admiration. She laughed with pleasure as she looked into his eyes. + +"There!" she exclaimed. "I told you that for a moment I would make +you forget everything." + +"There is a good deal to forget, too," he answered. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"You are always so gloomy, my young friend," she said. "We will have +luncheon together, you and I, and I will try and teach you how to be +gay. Tell me, then," she went on, as they reached the landing and +she waited for Arnold to open the door leading into the private +room, "how is the little invalid girl this morning?" + +"The little invalid girl is well," Arnold replied. + +"She was not too tired yesterday, I hope?" Fenella asked. + +"Not in the least," Arnold assured her. "We both of us felt that we +did not thank you half enough for our wonderful day." + +"Oh, la, la!" Fenella exclaimed. "It was a whim of mine, that is +all. I liked having you both there. Some day you must come again, +and, if you are very good, I may let you bring the young lady, +though I'm not so sure of that. Do you know that my brother was +asking me questions about her until I thought my head would swim +last night?" she continued, curiously. + +"Count Sabatini was very kind to her," Arnold remarked. "Poor little +girl, I am afraid she is going to have rather a rough time. She had +quite an alarming experience last night after our return." + +"You must tell me all about it presently," Fenella declared. "Shall +we take this little round table near the window? It will be +delightful, that, for when we are tired with one another we can +watch the people in the street. Have you ever sat and watched the +people in the street, Arnold?" + +"Not often," he answered, giving his hat to a waiter and following +her across the little room. "You see, there are not many people to +watch from the windows of where I live, but there is always the +river." + +"A terribly dreary place," Fenella declared. + +Arnold shook his head. + +"Don't believe it," he replied. "Only a short time ago, the days +were very dark indeed. Ruth and I together did little else except +watch the barges come up, and the slowly moving vessels, and the +lights, and the swarms of people on Blackfriars Bridge. Life was all +watching then." + +"One would weary soon," she murmured, "of being a spectator. You are +scarcely that now." + +"There has been a great change," he answered simply. "In those days +I was very near starvation. I had no idea how I was going to find +work. Yet even then I found myself longing for adventures of any +sort,--anything to quicken the blood, to feel the earth swell +beneath my feet." + +She was watching him with that curious look in her eyes which he +never wholly understood--half mocking, half tender. + +"And after all," she murmured, "you found your way to Tooley Street +and the office of Mr. Samuel Weatherley." + +She threw herself back in her chair and laughed so irresistibly that +Arnold, in a moment or two, found himself sharing her merriment. + +"It is all very well," he said presently, "but I am not at all sure +that adventures do not sometimes come even to Tooley Street." + +She shook her head. + +"I shall never believe it. Tell me now about Mr. Weatherley? Was he +very sorry when he arrived for having caused you so much anxiety?" + +"I have not yet seen Mr. Weatherley," Arnold replied. "Up till the +time when I left the office, he had not arrived." + +She set down the glass which she had been in the act of raising to +her lips. For the first time she seemed to take this matter +seriously. + +"What time was that?" she asked. + +"Ten minutes past twelve." + +She frowned. + +"It certainly does begin to look a little queer," she admitted. "Do +you think that he has met with an accident?" + +"We have already tried the hospitals and the police station," he +told her. + +She looked at him steadfastly. + +"You have an idea--you have some idea of what has happened," she +said. + +"Nothing definite," Arnold replied, gravely. "I cannot imagine what +it all means, but I believe that Mr. Weatherley has disappeared." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +ARNOLD BECOMES INQUISITIVE + + +For several moments Fenella sat quite still. She was suddenly an +altered woman. All the natural gayety and vivacity seemed to have +faded from her features. There were suggestions of another self, +zealously kept concealed. It was a curious revelation. Even her +tone, when she spoke, was altered. The words seemed to be dragged +from her lips. + +"You have some reason for saying this," she murmured. + +"I have," Arnold admitted. + +Just then the waiter entered the room, bringing in a portion of the +lunch which they had ordered. Fenella rose and walked to a mirror +at the other end of the apartment. She stood there powdering her +cheeks for a moment, with her back turned to Arnold. When the +waiter had gone, she returned, humming a tune. Her effort at +self-rehabilitation was obvious. + +"You gave me a shock, my friend," she declared, sitting down. +"Please do not do it again. I am not accustomed to having things put +to me quite so plainly." + +"I am sorry," Arnold said. "It was hideously clumsy of me." + +"It is of no consequence now," she continued. "Please to give me +some of that red wine and go on with your story. Tell me exactly +what you mean!" + +"It is simply this," Arnold explained. "A few days ago, I noticed +that Mr. Weatherley was busy writing for several hours. It was +evidently some private matter and nothing whatever to do with the +business. When he had finished, he put some documents into a small +safe, locked them up, and, very much to my surprise, gave me the +key." + +"This was long ago?" + +"It was almost immediately after Mr. Rosario's murder," he replied. +"When he gave me the key, he told me that if anything unexpected +should happen to him, I was to open the safe and inspect the +documents. He particularly used the words 'If anything unexpected +should happen to me, or if I should disappear.'" + +"You really believe, then," she asked, "that he had some idea in his +mind that something was likely to happen to him, or that he intended +to disappear?" + +"His action proves it," Arnold reminded her. "So far as we know, +there is no earthly reason for his not having turned up at the +office this morning. This afternoon I shall open the safe." + +"You mean that you will open it if you do not find him in the office +when you return?" + +"He will not be there," Arnold said, decidedly. + +Her eyes were filled with fear. He went on hastily. + +"Perhaps I ought not to say that. I have nothing in the world to go +on. It is only just an idea of mine. It isn't that I am afraid +anything has happened to him, but I feel convinced, somehow, that we +shall not hear anything more of Mr. Weatherley for some time." + +"You will open the safe, then, this afternoon?" + +"I must," Arnold replied. + +For several minutes neither of them spoke a word. Fenella made a +pretense at eating her luncheon. Arnold ate mechanically, his +thoughts striving in vain to focus themselves upon the immediate +question. It was she who ended the silence. + +"What do you think you will find in those documents?" + +"I have no idea," Arnold answered. "To tell you the truth," he went +on earnestly, "I was going to ask you whether you knew of anything +in his life or affairs which could explain this?" + +"I am not sure that I understand you," she said. + +"It seems a strange question," Arnold continued, "and yet it +presents itself. I was going to ask you whether you knew of any +reason whatsoever why Mr. Weatherley should voluntarily choose to go +into hiding?" + +"You have something in your mind when you ask me a question like +this!" she said. "What should I know about it at all? What makes you +ask me?" + +Then Arnold took his courage into both hands. Her eyes seemed to be +compelling him. + +"What I am going to say," he began, "may sound very foolish to you. +I cannot help it. I only hope that you will not be angry with me." + +Her eyes met his steadily. + +"No," she murmured, "I will not be angry--I promise you that. It is +better that I should know exactly what is in your mind. At present I +do not understand." + +His manner acquired a new earnestness. He forgot his luncheon and +leaned across the table towards her. + +"Fenella," he said, "try and consider how these things of which I am +going to speak must have presented themselves to me. Try, if you +can, and put yourself in my position for a few minutes. Before that +evening on which Mr. Weatherley asked me to come to your house, +nothing in the shape of an adventure had ever happened to me. I had +had my troubles, but they were ordinary ones, such as the whole +world knows of. From the day when I went to school to the day when I +had to leave college hurriedly, lost my father, and came up to +London a pauper, life with me was entirely an obvious affair. From +the night I crossed the threshold of your house, things were +different." + +There was a cloud upon her face. She began to drum with her slim +forefingers upon the tablecloth. + +"I think that I would rather you did not go on," she said. + +He shook his head. + +"I must," he declared, fervently. "These things have been in my mind +too long. It is not well for our friendship that I should have such +thoughts and leave them unuttered. On that very first evening--the +first time I ever saw you--you behaved, in a way, strangely. You +took me into your little sitting-room and I could see that you were +in trouble. Something was happening, or you were afraid that it was +going to happen. You sent me to the window to look out and see if +any one were watching the house. You remember all that?" + +"Yes," she murmured, "I remember." + +"There was some one watching it," Arnold went on. "I told you. I saw +your lips quiver with fear. Then your husband came in and took you +away. You left me there in the room alone. I was to wait for you. +While I was there, one of the men, who had been watching, stole up +through your garden to the very window. I saw his face. I saw his +hand upon the window-sill with that strange ring upon his finger. +You have not forgotten?" + +"Forgotten!" she repeated. "As though that were possible!" + +"Very well," Arnold continued. "Now let me ask you to remember +another evening, only last week, the night I dined with your +brother. I brought you home from the _Empire_ and we found that your +sitting-room had been entered from that same window. The door was +locked and we all thought that burglars must be there. I climbed in +at the window from the garden. You know what I found." + +All the time she seemed to have been making an effort to listen to +him unconcernedly. At this point, however, she broke down. She +abandoned her attempt at continuing her luncheon. She looked up at +him and he could see that she was trembling. + +"Don't go on!" she begged; "please don't!" + +"I must," he insisted. "These things have taken possession of me. I +cannot sleep or rest for thinking of them." + +"For my sake," she implored, "try and forget!" + +He shook his head. + +"It isn't possible," he said simply. "I am not made like that. Even +if you hate me for it, I must go on. You know what I found in your +sitting-room that night." + +"But this is cruel!" she murmured. + +"I found a dead man, a man who, to all appearance, had been +murdered in there. Not only that, but there must have been people +close at hand who were connected with him in some way, or who were +responsible for the crime. We left the room for five minutes, and +when we came back he had disappeared. All that we can judge as to +what became of him is that that same night a dead man was left in a +taxicab, not far away, by an unknown man whom as yet the police have +failed to find." + +"But this is all too horrible!" she murmured. "Why, do you remind me +of it?" + +"Because I must," he went on. "Listen. There are other things. This +man Starling, for instance, whom I met at your house, and who is +suspected of the murder of Rosario--both your brother and you seem +to be trying to shield him. I don't understand it; I can't +understand it. Your brother talked to me strangely the night I dined +with him, but half the time I felt that he was not serious. I do not +for a moment believe that he would stoop to any undignified or +criminal action. I believe in him as I do in you. Yet if Starling is +guilty, why do you both protect him?" + +"Is there anything else?" she faltered. + +"There is the final thing," he reminded her; "the reason why I have +mentioned these matters to you at all--I mean the disappearance of +Mr. Weatherley. Supposing he does not come back, how am I to keep +silent, knowing all that I know, knowing that he was living in a +house surrounded by mysteries? I hate my suspicions. They are like +ugly shadows which follow me about. I like and admire your brother, +and you--you know--" + +He could not finish his sentence. She raised her eyes and he saw +that they were full of tears. + +"Help me," he begged. "You can if you will. Give me your confidence +and I will tell you something which I think that even you do not +know." + +"Something concerned with these happenings?" + +"Something concerned with them," he assented. "I will tell you +when and by whom the body of that man was removed from your +sitting-room." + +She sat looking at him like a woman turned to stone. There was +incredulity in her eyes, incredulity and horror. + +"You cannot know that!" she faltered. + +"I do know it," he asserted. + +"Why have you kept this a secret from me?" she asked. + +"I do not know," he answered. "Somehow or other, when I have been +with you I have felt more anxious to talk of other things. Then +there was another reason which made me anxious to forget the whole +affair if I could. I had some knowledge of one of the men who were +concerned in taking him away." + +The waiter was busy now with the removal of their luncheon. To +Arnold, the necessary exchange of commonplaces was an immense +relief. It was several minutes before they were alone again. Then +she leaned across towards him. She had lit a cigarette now, and, +although she was very thoughtful, she seemed more at her ease. + +"Listen," she began. "I do not ask you to tell me anything more +about that night--I do not wish to hear anything. Tell me instead +exactly what it is that you want from me!" + +"I want nothing more nor less," he answered gently, "than +permission to be your friend and to possess a little more of your +confidence. I want you to end this mystery which surrounds the +things of which I have spoken." + +"And supposing," she said thoughtfully, "supposing I find that my +obligations to other people forbid me to discuss these matters any +more with you?" + +"I can only hope," he answered, "that you will not feel like that. +Remember that these things must have some bearing upon the +disappearance of Mr. Weatherley." + +She rose to her feet with a little shrug of the shoulders and walked +up and down the room for several moments, smoking and humming a +light tune to herself. Arnold watched her, struggling all the time +against the reluctant admiration with which she always inspired him. +She seemed to read in his eyes what was passing in his mind, for +when at last she came to a standstill she stood by his side and +laughed at him, with faintly upraised eyebrows, the cigarette smoke +curling from her lips. + +"And it was for a luncheon such as this," she protested, "that I +wore my new muslin gown and came all the way from the country. I +expected compliments at least. Perhaps I even hoped," she whispered, +leaning a little towards him, with a smile upon her lips,--half +mirthful, half provocative,--"that I might have turned for a moment +that wonderfully hard head of yours." + +Arnold rose abruptly to his feet. + +"You treat men as though they were puppets," he muttered. + +"And you speak of puppets," she murmured, "as though theirs was a +most undesirable existence. Have you never tried to be a puppet, +Arnold?" + +He stepped a little further back still and gripped the back of the +chair, but she kept close to him. + +"I am to have no other answer from you, then, but this foolery?" he +demanded, roughly. + +"Why, yes!" she replied, graciously. "I have an answer ready for +you. You are so abrupt. Listen to what I propose. We will go +together to your office and see whether it is true that Mr. +Weatherley has not returned. If he has really disappeared, and I +think that anything which I can tell you will help, perhaps then I +will do as you ask. It depends a great deal upon what you find in +those papers. Shall we go now, or would you like to stay here a +little longer?" + +"We will go at once," he said firmly. + +She sighed, and passed out of the door which he had thrown open. + +"It is I who am a heroine," she declared. "I am coming down to +Tooley Street with you. I am coming to brave the smells and the fog +and the heat." + +He handed her into the car. He had sufficiently recovered his +self-control to smile. + +"In other words," he remarked, "you mean to be there when I open the +safe!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE LETTERS IN THE SAFE + + +The arrival of Arnold, accompanied by Mrs. Weatherley, created a +mild sensation in Tooley Street. Mr. Jarvis, fussier than ever, and +blinking continually behind his gold-rimmed spectacles, followed +them into the private office. + +"You have heard nothing of Mr. Weatherley?" Arnold asked. + +"Not a word," the cashier answered. "We have rung up several more +places and have tried the hospitals again. We were all hoping that +Mrs. Weatherley had brought us some news." + +She shook her head. + +"Mr. Weatherley left home exceedingly early this morning," she +announced. "I believe that it was before half-past seven. Except +that he called at the house in Hampstead for the letters, I have not +heard of him since." + +"It is most mysterious," Mr. Jarvis declared. "The governor--I beg +your pardon, Mr. Weatherley--is a gentleman of most punctual habits. +There are several matters of business which he knew awaited his +decision to-day. You will excuse me, madam, if I ask whether Mr. +Weatherley seemed in his usual health when he left this morning?" + +Fenella smiled faintly. + +"Have I not already told you," she said, "that he left the cottage +in the country, where we spent the week-end, before half-past seven +this morning? Naturally, therefore, I did not see him. The servants, +however, noticed nothing unusual. Last night Mr. Chetwode here was +with us, and he can tell you what was apparent to all of us. Mr. +Weatherley seemed then in excellent health and spirits." + +Mr. Jarvis had the air of a man hopelessly bewildered. Excellent +servant though he was, nature had not bestowed upon him those gifts +which enable a man to meet a crisis firmly. + +"Can you suggest anything that we ought to do, madam?" he asked Mrs. +Weatherley. + +"I think," she replied, "that Mr. Chetwode has something to tell +you." + +Arnold took the key of the safe from his pocket and turned to the +cashier. + +"A few days ago, Mr. Jarvis," he said slowly, "Mr. Weatherley placed +certain documents in that safe and gave me the key. My instructions +from him were to open and examine them with you, if he should be, +for any unexplained cause, absent from business." + +Mr. Jarvis looked blankly incredulous. + +"Goodness gracious!" he murmured weakly. "Why, that looks almost as +though he expected something of the sort to happen." + +"I think," Arnold continued, "that as it is now past three o'clock, +and Mr. Weatherley is still absent, we had better open the safe." + +He crossed the room as he spoke, fitted the key in the lock, and +swung the door open. Mrs. Weatherley and the cashier looked over his +shoulder. There were only the two letters there. One was addressed +to Messrs. Turnbull & James, Solicitors; the other jointly to Mr. +Jarvis and Mr. Arnold Chetwode. + + [Illustration: Mrs. Weatherley and the cashier looked over his + shoulder. _Page 259_.] + +"There is nothing there for me?" Mrs. Weatherley asked, +incredulously. + +"There is nothing at all," Arnold replied; "unless there may be an +enclosure. Mr. Jarvis, will you open this envelope?" + +Mr. Jarvis took it to the desk and broke the seal with trembling +fingers. He smoothed the letter out, switched on the electric +reading light, and they all read it at the same time. It was written +in Mr. Weatherley's familiar hand, every letter of which was +perfectly distinct and legible. + + TO JARVIS AND CHETWODE. + + This is a record of certain instructions which I wish + carried out in the event of my unexplained absence from + business at any time. + + Firstly--The business is to continue exactly as usual, + and my absence to be alluded to as little as possible. It + can be understood that I am away on the Continent or + elsewhere, on a business voyage. + + Secondly--I have deposited a power of attorney at my + solicitors, made out in the joint names of Henry Jarvis + and Arnold Chetwode. This will enable you both to make + and receive contracts on behalf of the firm. As regards + financial affairs, Messrs. Neville, the accountants, have + already the authority to sign cheques, and a + representative from their firm will be in attendance each + day, or according to your request. My letter to Messrs. + Turnbull & James empowers them to make such payments as + are necessary, on the joint application of you two, Henry + Jarvis and Arnold Chetwode, to whom I address this + letter. + + Thirdly--I have the most implicit confidence in Henry + Jarvis, who has been in my employ for so many years, and + I beg him to understand that I associate with him one so + much his junior, for certain reasons into which I beg + that he will not inquire. + + Fourthly--I repeat that I desire as little publicity as + possible to be given to my absence, and that no money be + spent on advertisements, or any other form of search. If + within two years from the date of the opening of this + letter, I have not been heard from further, I desire that + the usual steps be taken to presume my decease. My will + and all further particulars are with Messrs. Turnbull & + James. + + Fifthly--I desire you to pay to my wife the sum of five + hundred pounds monthly. All other matters concerning my + private estate, etc. are embodied in the letter to + Messrs. Turnbull & James. + +They all finished reading the letter about the same time. Mr. +Jarvis' bewilderment grew deeper and deeper. + +"This is the most extraordinary document I ever read in my life!" he +exclaimed. "Why, it seems as though he had gone away somewhere of +his own accord. After all, it can't be an accident, or anything of +that sort." + +Neither Arnold nor Mrs. Weatherley made any immediate reply. She +pointed to the letter. + +"When did he write this?" she asked. + +"Last Thursday," Arnold replied; "less than a week ago." + +She sighed softly. + +"Really, it is most mysterious," she said. "I wonder whether he can +have gone out of his mind suddenly, or anything of that sort." + +"I have never," Mr. Jarvis declared, "known Mr. Weatherley to +display so much acumen and zest in business as during the last few +days. Some of his transactions have been most profitable. Every one +in the place has remarked upon it." + +Mrs. Weatherley took up the lace parasol which she had laid upon the +office table. + +"It is all most bewildering," she pronounced. "I think that it is no +use my staying here any longer. I will leave you two to talk of it +together. You have doubtless much business to arrange." + +"Are you going back to Bourne End or to Hampstead?" Arnold asked. + +She hesitated. + +"Really, I am not quite sure," she replied, meeting his gaze without +flinching. "I am beginning to find the heat in town insufferable. I +think, perhaps, that I shall go to Bourne End." + +"In that case," Arnold said, "will you allow me to see you there +to-night?" + +"To-night?" she repeated, as though in surprise. + +"Without a doubt." + +She did not answer him for a moment. Meanwhile, the telephone rang, +and Mr. Jarvis was presently engrossed in a business conversation +with a customer. Arnold lowered his voice a little. + +"Our discussion at luncheon was only postponed," he reminded her. +"We have seen these documents. We know now that Mr. Weatherley had +some reason to fear an interruption to his everyday life. Directly +or indirectly, that interruption is connected with certain things of +which you and I have spoken together. I am going to ask you, +therefore, to keep your promise. I am going to ask you to tell me +everything that you know." + +"Are you not afraid," she asked, "that I shall consider you a very +inquisitive young man?" + +"I am afraid of nothing of the sort," Arnold replied. "Mr. +Weatherley's disappearance is too serious a matter for me to take +such trifles into account." + +She pointed to the letter which still lay upon the table. + +"Is it not his expressed wish that you should make no effort towards +solving the reasons for his disappearance?" + +"There is no reason," Arnold answered, doggedly, "why one should not +attempt to understand them." + +Mr. Jarvis had finished his telephoning. Fenella went up to him with +outstretched hand. + +"Mr. Jarvis," she said, "there is nothing more I can do here. I am +very much upset. Will you take me out to my car, please? I know that +you will do the very best you can without Mr. Weatherley, and I am +glad that you have Mr. Chetwode to help you. I would come down +myself sometimes," she added, "but I am sure that I should only be +in the way. Good afternoon, Mr. Chetwode." + +"You have not answered my question," he persisted. + +She looked at him as a great lady would look at a presuming servant. + +"I see no necessity," she replied. "I am too much upset to receive +visitors to-day. If you are ready, Mr. Jarvis." + +She left the room without even a backward glance, closely followed +by the cashier. Arnold stood looking after the retreating figures +for a moment, then he turned away with a hard little laugh. Once +more he read and re-read Mr. Weatherley's letter. Before he had +finished, Mr. Jarvis came bustling back into the room. + +"Well!" he exclaimed, dramatically. "Well!" + +Arnold looked across at him. + +"It's a queer business, isn't it?" he remarked. + +"Queer business, indeed!" Mr. Jarvis repeated, sitting down and +wiping his forehead. "It's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard +of in my life. One doesn't read about such things even in books. +Mrs. Weatherley seems to take it quite calmly, but the more I think +of it, the more confused I become. What are we to do? Shall we go to +the police or write to the newspapers? Can't you suggest something?" + +Arnold finally laid down the letter, which he now knew pretty well +by heart. + +"It seems to me, Mr. Jarvis," he said, "that the thing for us to do +is to obey orders. Mr. Weatherley expressly writes that he wishes us +to take his absence, so far as possible, as a matter of course, and +to look after the business. The very fact that he puts it like that +makes it quite clear to me that he intends to return. My idea is +that we should follow the lines of his letter strictly." + +"You are quite right, Chetwode," Mr. Jarvis decided. "I feel exactly +that way about the matter myself. We'll go right ahead with those +orders now, then, and we can have a chat about the matter again +after business hours, if you don't mind. It's hard to reconcile +oneself to taking this so easily, but I suppose it's the only thing +to do. I'll get out in the warehouse now. You had better send that +note round to Turnbull's by express messenger, and ring up Yardley's +about the American contracts." + +Mr. Jarvis bustled away. Arnold himself found plenty to do. The +business of Messrs. Weatherley & Company must go on, whatever +happened. He set himself sedulously to make his mind a complete +blank. It was not until the offices were closed, and he turned at +last westwards, that he permitted himself even to realize this +strange thing that had happened. On that first walk was born an +impulse which remained with him for many weeks afterwards. He found +himself always scanning the faces of the streams of people whom he +was continually passing, on foot and in vehicles, half expecting +that somewhere among them he would catch a glimpse of the features +of the lost Mr. Weatherley. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +TALK OF TREASURE SHIPS + + +In the twilight of the long spring evening, Ruth sat waiting in the +bare room which had been Arnold's habitation during these days of +his struggle against poverty. She was sitting on the couch, drawn up +as usual to the window, her elbows upon her knees, her hands +supporting her delicate, thoughtful face. Already the color which +the sunshine had brought seemed to have been drained from her +cheeks. Her eyes were unnaturally bright, her expression seemed to +have borrowed something of that wistful earnestness of one of the +earlier Madonnas, seeking with pathetic strenuousness to discover +the germs of a truth which was as yet unborn. The clouds, which hung +low over the other side of the river, were tinged with an unusual +coloring, smoke-stained as they hovered over the chimneys. They grew +clearer and more full of amber color as they floated slowly +southwards. Through the open window came the ceaseless roar of the +city, the undernote of grinding, commonplace life, seeking always to +stifle and enchain the thoughts which would escape. Before her was +spread out a telegram. She had read it many times, until every word +was familiar to her. It was from Arnold, and she had received it +several hours ago. + + Please be prepared to go out with me directly I return + this evening. All well. Love. Arnold. + +It was past eight o'clock before her vigil was at an end. She +listened to his step upon the stairs, and, as he entered, looked at +him with all the eagerness of a wistful child, tremulously anxious +to read his expression. A little wave of tenderness swept in upon +him. He forgot in a moment the anxieties and worries of the day, and +greeted her gayly. + +"You got my telegram?" + +"You extravagant person!" she answered. "Yes, I have been ready for +quite a long time." + +He laughed. + +"To tell you the truth, I didn't even pay for the telegram. As I had +to stay late, I took the liberty of sending it through the firm's +accounts. You see, I have become quite an important person in Tooley +Street all of a sudden. I'll tell you about it presently. Now hold +on tightly to your stick. I'm much too impatient to go down the +steps one by one. I'm going to carry you all the way." + +"But where to?" she asked. + +"Leave it to me," he laughed. "There are all sorts of surprises for +you. The lady with the wand has been busy." + +He carried her downstairs, where, to her surprise, she found a +taxicab waiting. + +"But, Arnold," she exclaimed, "how could you think of such +extravagance! You know I can walk quite easily a little distance, if +I take your arm." + +"I'll tell you all about it at dinner-time," he replied. + +"Dinner-time?" she cried. "Dinner at this hour?" + +"Why not? It's quite the fashionable hour, I can assure you, and, +to tell you the truth, I am half starved." + +She resigned herself with a sigh of content. After all, it was so +delightful to drift like this with some one infinitely stronger to +take the responsibility for everything. They drove to a large and +popular restaurant close at hand, where Arnold ordered the dinner, +with frequent corrections from Ruth, who sat with a menu-card in her +hand. A band was playing the music of the moment. It was all very +commonplace, but to Ruth it was like a living chapter out of her +book of dreams. Even there, though, the shadow pursued. She could +bear the silence no longer. She dropped her voice a little. The +place was crowded and there were people at the next table. + +"Before I touch anything, Arnold, tell me this. Is there any news of +Isaac?" + +"None at all," he replied. "It all seemed very alarming to us, but +it seems to be fizzling out. There is only quite a small paragraph +in the evening paper. You can read it, if you like." + +He drew the _Evening News_ from his pocket and passed it to her. The +paragraph to which he pointed was headed-- + + ESCAPE OF AN ANARCHIST FROM ADAM STREET. + + Up to the time of going to press, the man Isaac Lalonde, + whom the police failed to arrest last night on a charge + not at present precisely stated, has not been + apprehended. The police are reticent about the matter, + but it is believed that the missing man was connected + with a dangerous band of anarchists who have lately come + to this country. + +"Poor Isaac!" she murmured, with a little shiver. "Do you know, I +remember him years ago, when he was the kindest-hearted man +breathing. He went to Russia to visit some of his mother's +relatives, and when he came back everything was changed. He saw +injustice everywhere, and it seemed almost to unbalance his mind. +The very sight of the west-end, the crowds coming out of the +theatres, the shops in Bond Street, seemed to send him half mad. And +it all started, Arnold, with real pity for the poor. It isn't a +personal matter with him at any time." + +Arnold nodded thoughtfully. + +"Poor chap!" he remarked. "Just at first I really used to like +talking to him. He was so earnest, and so many of his arguments were +absolutely sound." + +"It is only lately," Ruth said, "that he has changed so much." + +"I think it is quite time that you and he were separated," Arnold +declared. "It is evident, nowadays, that he isn't responsible for +his actions." + +"Separated!" she repeated bitterly. "You talk as though I had a +choice of homes." + +"You have," he assured her. "However, we won't say anything about +that just now. I want to talk about myself." + +"And I want to listen, dear!" she exclaimed. "You must tell me what +has happened, Arnie. Has Mr. Weatherley taken you into partnership, +or has some one of your disagreeable relatives found you out and +been pouring money into your pockets?" + +"Neither," he replied. "As a matter of fact, there is no Mr. +Weatherley just at present." + +"No Mr. Weatherley?" she repeated, wonderingly. "I don't +understand." + +The slightly worn look came back to Arnold's face. Young and strong +though he was, he was beginning to feel the strain of the last few +days. + +"A most extraordinary thing has happened, Ruth," he declared. "Mr. +Weatherley has disappeared." + +She looked at him blankly. + +"Disappeared? I don't understand." + +"He simply didn't turn up at business this morning," Arnold +continued. "He left Bourne End about seven, and no one has set eyes +on him since." + +She was bewildered. + +"But how is it that that makes such a difference to you?" she asked. +"What can have happened to him?" + +"No one knows," he explained; "but in a little safe, of which he had +given me the keys, he left behind some letters with instructions +that during his absence from business Mr. Jarvis and I should +jointly take charge. I can't really imagine why I should have been +put in such a position, but there it is. The solicitors have been +down this afternoon, and I am drawing six pounds a week and a +bonus." + +She took his hand in hers and patted it gently. + +"I am so very glad, Arnold," she said, "so very glad that the days +of your loneliness are over. Now you will be able to go and take +some comfortable rooms somewhere and make the sort of friends you +ought to have. Didn't I always foretell it?" she went on. "I used to +try and fancy sometimes that the ships we saw were bringing treasure +for me, too, but I never really believed that. It wasn't quite +likely." + +He turned and looked at her. The first flush of excitement had left +her cheeks. She was very pale, and her soft gray eyes shone like +stars. Her mouth was tremulous. It was the passing of a single +impulse of self-pity. + +"Foolish little girl!" he exclaimed, under his breath. "You don't +really suppose that the treasure which came for me wasn't yours, +too? But there, we'll talk about our plans later on. At present, +what you have to do is to eat and to drink that glass of Burgundy +and to listen to me. I want to talk about myself." + +It was the subtlest way to distract her thoughts. She listened to +him with keen interest while he talked of his day's work. It was not +until she mentioned Fenella's name that his face clouded over. + +"Curiously enough, Mrs. Weatherley is displeased with me. I should +have thought it entirely through her influence and suggestions that +Mr. Weatherley had been so kind to me, but to-day I asked her some +questions which I felt that I had a right to ask, and have been told +to mind my own business. She left me at the office without even +saying 'Good afternoon.'" + +"What sort of questions?" + +"I don't know that I can tell you exactly what the questions were," +Arnold continued, "because they concerned some matters in which Mrs. +Weatherley and her brother were chiefly concerned. To tell you the +truth, ever since that night when I went to Hampstead to dine, the +oddest things seem to have happened to me. I have to pinch myself +sometimes to realize that this is London and that I am a clerk in +the office of a wholesale provision merchant. When I let myself go, +I seem to have been living in an unreal world, full of strange +excitements--a veritable Arabian Nights." + +"There was that terrible murder," she murmured. "You saw that, +didn't you?" + +He nodded. + +"Not only saw it," he agreed, "but I seem, somehow, to have been +mixed up with people who know a great deal about it. However, I have +been told to mind my own business and I am going to. I have plenty +to occupy my thoughts in Tooley Street. I am going to close in my +little world and live there. The rest I am going to forget." + +"You are coming back!" she whispered, with a joy in her tone which +amazed him. + +"I suppose I am," he admitted. "I like and admire Mrs. Weatherley's +brother, Count Sabatini, and I have a genuine affection for Mrs. +Weatherley, but I don't understand them. I don't understand these +mysterious matters in which they seem mixed up." + +"I do not believe," she declared, "that Count Sabatini would be +mixed up in anything dishonorable. Women so seldom make a mistake, +you know," she continued, "and I never met any one in my life who +seemed so kind and gentle." + +Arnold sighed. + +"I wish I could tell you everything," he said, "then I think you +would really be as bewildered as I am. Mr. Weatherley's +disappearance coming on the top of it all simply makes my brain +reel. I can't do anything to help straighten things out. Therefore, +I am going to do what I am told--I am going to mind my own +business." + +"To think only of Tooley Street," she murmured. + +"I shall find it quite enough," he answered. "I want to understand +all the details of the business, and it isn't easy at first. Mr. +Jarvis is very sound and good, but he's a very small man moving in a +very small way. Even Mr. Weatherley used to laugh at his methods." + +She was silent for several moments. He studied her expression +curiously. + +"You don't believe that I shall be able to immerse myself in +business?" he asked. + +"It isn't exactly that," she replied. "I believe that you mean to +try, and I believe that to some extent you will succeed, but I +think, Arnold, that before very long you will hear the voices +calling again from the world where these strange things happened. +You are not made of the clay, dear, which resists for ever." + +He moved uneasily in his seat. Her words sounded ominous. He was +suddenly conscious that his present state of determination was the +result of a battle, and that the war was not yet ended. + +"She is so beautiful, that Mrs. Weatherley," Ruth continued, +clasping her hands together and looking for a moment away from her +surroundings. "No one could be blamed for climbing a little way out +of the dull world if she held out her hands. I have seen so little +of either of them, Arnold, but I do know that they both of them have +that curious gift--would you call it charm?--the gift of creating +affection. No one has ever spoken to me more kindly and more +graciously than Count Sabatini did when he sat by my side on the +lawn. What is that gift, Arnold? Do you know that with every word he +spoke I felt that he was not in the least a stranger? There was +something familiar about his voice, his manner--everything." + +"I think that they are both quite wonderful people," Arnold +admitted. + +"Mrs. Weatherley, too, was kind," Ruth went on; "but I felt that +she did not like me very much. She has an interest in you, and like +all women she was a little jealous--not in the ordinary way, I don't +mean," she corrected herself hastily, "but no woman likes any one in +whom she takes an interest to be very kind to any one else." + +They had reached the stage of their coffee. The band was playing the +latest waltz. It was all very commonplace, but they were both young +and uncritical. The waltz was one which Fenella had played after +dinner at Bourne End, while they had sat out in the garden, +lingering over their dessert. A flood of memories stirred him. The +soft sensuousness of that warm spring night, with its perfumed +silence, its subtly luxurious setting, stole through his senses like +a narcotic. Ruth was right. It was not to be so easy! He called for +his bill and paid it. Ruth laid her fingers upon his arm. + +"Arnold," she began timidly, "there is something more. I scarcely +know how to say it to you and yet it ought not to be difficult. You +talk all the time as though you were my brother, or as though it +were your duty to help me. It isn't so, dear, really, is it? If you +could manage to lend me your room for one week, I think that I might +be able to help myself a little. There is a place the clergyman told +us of who came to see me once--" + +Arnold interrupted her almost roughly. A keen pang of remorse +assailed him. He knew very well that if she had not been intuitively +conscious of some change in him, the thought which prompted her +words would never have entered her brain. + +"Don't let me hear you mention it!" he exclaimed. "I have made all +the arrangements. It wouldn't do for me to live in an attic now +that I am holding a responsible position in the city. Come along. +Lean on my arm and mind the corner." + +They had purposely chosen a table close to the door, so that they +had only a few steps to take. Arnold called a taxi and handed Ruth +in before he told the man the address. + +"Now close your eyes," he insisted, when they were together in the +cab. + +Ruth did as she was told. + +"I feel that it is all wrong," she murmured, leaning back, "but it +is like little bits out of a fairy book, and to-night I feel so weak +and you are so strong. It isn't any use my saying anything, Arnold, +is it?" + +"Not a bit," he answered. "All that you have to do is to hold my +hand and wait." + +In less than ten minutes the cab stopped. He hurried her into the +entrance hall of a tall, somewhat somber building. A man in uniform +rang a bell and the lift came down. They went up, it seemed to her, +seven or eight flights. When they stepped out, her knees were +trembling. He caught her up and carried her down a corridor. Then he +fitted a Yale key from his pocket into a lock and threw open the +door. There was a little hall inside, with three doors. He pushed +open the first; it was a small bedroom, plainly but not +unattractively furnished. He carried her a little way further down +the corridor and threw open another door--a tiny sitting-room with a +fire burning. + +"Our new quarters!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "The room at the other +end of the passage is mine. A pound a week and a woman to come in +and light the fires! Mr. Jarvis let me have some money and I paid +three months' rent in advance. What do you think of them?" + +"I can't think," she whispered. "I can't!" + +He carried her to the window. + +"This is my real surprise, dear," he announced, in a tone of +triumph. "Look!" + +The blind flew up at his touch. On the other side of the street was +a row of houses over which they looked. Beyond, the river, whose +dark waters were gleaming in the moonlight. On their left were the +Houses of Parliament, all illuminated. On their right, the long, +double line of lights shining upon the water at which they had gazed +so often. + +"The lighted way, dear," he murmured, holding her a little more +closely to him. "While I am down in the city you can sit here and +watch, and you can see the ships a long way further off than you +could ever see them from Adam Street. You can see the bend, too. +It's always easier, isn't it, to fancy that something is coming into +sight around the corner?" + +She was not looking. Her head was buried upon his shoulder. Arnold +was puzzled. + +"Look up, Ruth dear," he begged. "I want you to look now--look along +the lighted way and hold my hand very tightly. Don't you think that, +after all, one of your ships has come home?" + +She lifted her face, wet with tears, and looked in the direction +where he pointed. Arnold, who felt nothing himself but a thrill of +pleasure at his new quarters, was puzzled at a certain trouble which +he seemed to see in her features, a faint hopelessness of +expression. She looked where he pointed but there was none of the +eager expectancy of a few weeks ago. + +"It is beautiful, Arnold," she murmured, "but I can't talk just +now." + +"I am going to leave you to get over it," he declared. "I'm off now +to fetch the luggage. You won't be afraid to be left here?" + +She shook her head. A certain look of relief flashed across her +face. + +"No, I shall not be afraid," she answered. + +He wheeled the easy-chair up to the window which he had flung wide +open. He placed a cushion at the back of her head and left her with +a cheerful word. She heard his steps go down the corridor, the +rattle of the lift as it descended. Then her lips began to tremble +and the sobs to shake her shoulders. She held out her hands toward +that line of lights at which he had pointed, and her fingers were +clenched. + +"It is because--I am like this!" she cried, half hysterically. "I +don't count!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +COUNT SABATINI VISITS + + +There was an air of subdued excitement about the offices of Messrs. +Samuel Weatherley & Company from nine until half-past on the +following morning. For so many years his clerks had been accustomed +to see Mr. Weatherley stroll in somewhere about that time, his cigar +in his mouth, his silk hat always at the same angle, that it seemed +hard for them to believe that this morning they would not hear the +familiar footstep and greeting. Every time a shadow passed the +window, heads were eagerly raised. The sound of the bell on the +outside door brought them all to their feet. They were all on tiptoe +with expectation. The time, however, came and passed. The letters +were all opened, and Mr. Jarvis and Arnold were occupying the +private office. Already invoices were being distributed and orders +entered up. The disappearance of Mr, Weatherley was a thing +established. + +Mr. Jarvis was starting the day in a pessimistic frame of mind. + +"You may take my word for it, Chetwode," he said solemnly to his +companion, after he had finished going through the letters, "that we +shall never see the governor again." + +Arnold was startled. + +"Have you heard anything?" he asked. + +Mr. Jarvis admitted gloomily that he had heard nothing. + +"It's my belief that nothing more will be heard," he added, "until +his body's found." + +"Rubbish!" Arnold declared. "Mr. Weatherley wasn't the sort of man +to commit suicide." + +Mr. Jarvis looked around the office as though he almost feared that +the ghost of his late employer might be listening. + +"It is my belief," he said impressively, "that we none of us knew +the sort of man Mr. Weatherley was, or rather the sort of man he has +become since his marriage." + +"I don't see what marriage with Mrs. Weatherley could have had to do +with his disappearance," Arnold remarked. + +Mr. Jarvis looked foolishly wise from behind his gold-rimmed +spectacles. + +"You haven't had the opportunity of watching the governor as I have +since his marriage," he declared. "Take my advice, Chetwode. You are +not married, I presume?" + +"I am not," Arnold assured him. + +"Nor thinking of it?" + +"Nor thinking of it," Arnold repeated. + +"When the time comes," Mr. Jarvis said, "don't you go poking about +in any foreign islands or places. If only the governor had left +those smelly European cheeses to take care of themselves, he'd be +sitting here in his chair at this moment, smoking a cigar and +handing me out the orders. You and I are, so to speak, in a +confidential position now, Chetwode, and I am able to say things to +you about which I might have hesitated before. Do you know how much +the governor has spent during the last year?" + +"No idea," Arnold replied. "Does it matter?" + +"He has spent," Mr. Jarvis announced, solemnly, "close upon ten +thousand pounds." + +"It sounds like a good deal," Arnold admitted, "but I expect he had +saved it." + +"Of course he had saved it," Mr. Jarvis admitted; "but what has that +to do with it? One doesn't save money for the pleasure of spending +it. Never since my connection with the firm has Mr. Weatherley +attempted to spend anything like one half of his income." + +"Then I should think it was quite time he began," Arnold declared. +"You are not going to suggest, I suppose, that financial +embarrassments had anything to do with Mr. Weatherley's +disappearance?" + +Mr. Jarvis started. To him the suggestion sounded sacrilegious. + +"My dear Chetwode," he said, "you must indeed be ignorant of the +resources of the firm when you make such a suggestion! I simply +wished to point out that after his marriage Mr. Weatherley +completely changed all his habits. It is not well for a man of his +age to change his habits.... God bless my soul, here is an +automobile stopping outside. If it should be Mr. Weatherley come +back!" + +They both hurried eagerly to the window. The automobile, however, +which had drawn up outside, was larger and more luxurious than Mr. +Weatherley's. Count Sabatini, folding up his newspaper, made a +leisurely descent. The cashier looked at him curiously. + +"Wonder who it is," he remarked. "Looks like some sort of a +foreigner." + +"It is Mrs. Weatherley's brother," Arnold told him. + +Mr. Jarvis was deeply interested. A moment later a card was brought +in. + +"Gentleman wishes to see Mr. Chetwode." + +"You can show him in," Arnold directed. + +Sabatini was already upon the threshold. He carried his gray Homburg +hat in his hand; he seemed to bring with him a subtle atmosphere of +refinement. The perfection of his clothes, the faint perfume from +his handkerchief, his unusual yet unnoticeable tie--these things +were a cult to himself. The little array of clerks, through whose +ranks he had passed, stared after him in wonder. + +"How are you, my young friend?" he asked, smiling at Arnold. +"Immersed in business, I suppose?" + +"We are very busy, naturally," Arnold answered. "Please come in and +sit down." + +Sabatini laid his hat and stick upon the table and commenced +leisurely to draw off his gloves. + +"This is Mr. Jarvis, who has been Mr. Weatherley's right-hand man +for a great many years," Arnold said, introducing him; "Count +Sabatini, Mr. Weatherley's brother-in-law." + +Mr. Jarvis shook hands solemnly. + +"I am glad to know you, sir," he declared. "I have not had the +pleasure of seeing much of Mrs. Weatherley, but my connection with +the firm is a very old one." + +"Is there any news," asked Sabatini, "of our esteemed friend?" + +Mr. Jarvis shook his head mournfully. + +"There is no news," he announced. "I am afraid, sir, that it will +be a long time before we do hear any news. If your business is with +Mr. Chetwode, Count Sabatini," he added, "I will ask you to excuse +me. I have plenty to do in the warehouse. If there is any +information I can give you on behalf of your sister or yourself, I +shall be very happy to come back if you will send for me." + +He bustled out, closing the door after him. Sabatini looked around +with a faint smile, as though his surroundings amused him. He then +carefully deposited his gloves with his hat, selected the most +comfortable chair, and seated himself. + +"So this is where the money is coined, eh?" he remarked. "It is +fortunate that I have discovered the place, for I need some." + +Arnold smiled. + +"We haven't had time to do much coining yet." + +"Supposing I want five hundred pounds, could I have it?" Sabatini +asked. + +Arnold shook his head. + +"Certainly not," he replied, "unless you had cheeses to sell us for +it, or bacon. Messrs. Weatherley & Company are provision merchants, +not money-lenders." + +"You have the control of the finances, haven't you?" + +"To a certain extent, I have," Arnold admitted. + +"Now how much is there in that safe, I wonder?" Sabatini asked. + +"About thirteen hundred pounds--perhaps even more than that," Arnold +told him. + +Sabatini withdrew the hand which had been fumbling in his pocket. +Arnold looked suddenly into the muzzle of a small, shining revolver. + +"It was very foolish of you to give me that information," Sabatini +said. "You have not forgotten our long conversation, I trust? I +expounded to you most carefully the creed of my life. Five hundred +pounds, if you please," he added, politely. + +"Not one ha'penny," Arnold answered, seating himself upon the table +and folding his arms. + +"I'll give you until I count three," Sabatini announced, in a still, +cold voice. + +"You can give me as long as you like," Arnold retorted, pleasantly. + +Sabatini very deliberately counted three and pulled the trigger of +his revolver. There was a slight click. He looked down the muzzle of +the weapon and, with a little sigh, thrust it back into his pocket. + +"This appears to be one of my failures," he declared. "Lend me five +shillings, then," he added. "I really came out without any silver +and I must keep up my reputation. I positively cannot leave this +office without loot of some sort." + +Arnold handed his visitor two half-crowns, which the latter put +gravely into his pocket. + +"Come and lunch with me to-day at my rooms," he invited. "Lady +Blennington and Fenella will be there. If you bring with you a +sufficient appetite, you may get value for your five shillings. It +is the only way you will ever get it back." + +"Then I must resign myself to being robbed," Arnold answered. "We +haven't time, nowadays, for luncheon parties. On the whole, I think +I should be justified in putting the amount down to petty cash. I +might even debit Mrs. Weatherley's account with it." + +Sabatini took out his cigarette case. + +"You will forgive me?" he said. "In your offices, I believe, it is +not the custom, but I must confess that I find your atmosphere +abominable. Last night I saw Fenella. She told me of your +disagreement with her and your baseless suspicions. Really, +Chetwode, I am surprised at you." + +"'Suspicions' seems scarcely the word," Arnold murmured. + +Sabatini sighed. + +"You are such a hideously matter-of-fact person," he declared. +"Fenella should have seen your attitude from the humorous point of +view. It would have appealed to me very much indeed." + +"I am sorry if your sister misunderstood anything that I said," +Arnold remarked, a little awkwardly. + +"My dear fellow," Sabatini continued, "there seems to have been very +little ground for misunderstanding. Fenella was positively hurt. She +says that you seem to look upon us as a sort of adventurer and +adventuress--people who live by their wits, you understand, from +hour to hour, without character or reputation. She is quite sure, in +her own mind, that you believe Mr. Weatherley's absence to be due to +our secret and criminal machinations." + +"I am sorry," Arnold replied, "if anything I said to your sister has +given her that impression. The fact remains, however, that Mrs. +Weatherley has declined to give me any explanation of various +incidents which were certainly more than bewildering. One cannot +help feeling," he went on, after a moment's hesitation, "that if my +friendship were of any account to your sister--which, of course, it +isn't--she would look at the matter differently." + +"My dear Chetwode," Sabatini declared, "my sympathies are entirely +with you. The trouble of it is, of course, that the explanations +which you demand will probably leave you only the more bewildered. +When I came to London," he continued, watching the smoke from his +cigarette, "I said to myself, 'In this great black city all hopes of +adventure must be buried. Fenella will become a model wife of the +_bourgeoisie_. I myself, if I stay, shall probably become director +of some city company where they pay fees, give up baccarat for +bridge, imbibe whiskey and soda instead of the wine of my country; +perhaps, even--who knows?--I may take to myself a wife and live in a +villa.' On the contrary, other things have happened. Even here the +earth has trembled a little under our feet. Even now we listen for +the storm." + +"You talk to me always in parables," Arnold protested. "How am I to +understand what you mean?" + +"You have reason, my young friend," Sabatini admitted calmly. "Ask +your questions." + +"First of all, then, you know where Mr. Weatherley is!" + +Sabatini made a wry face. + +"Let us leave this respectable Weatherley out of the case for a +moment," he said. "To tell you the truth, I am weary of him. I would +speak of ourselves--of my sister and myself and those others. You +cannot deny that however wicked you may think us we are at least +interesting." + +"Have you come here to make fun of me?" Arnold asked quietly. + +"Not in the least," Sabatini assured him. "On the contrary, I have +come to make friends. My sister is penitent. We have decided to +take your discretion for granted. I am here to explain. You want to +understand all these things which seem to you so mysterious. Well, +ask your questions. What is it that you wish to know?" + +"Nothing," Arnold replied. "I have come to the conclusion that +I was wrong to speak to your sister as I did. I have a great +responsibility here which will occupy all my thoughts. I am going to +devote myself to work. The other things do not interest me any +longer." + +Sabatini smiled. + +"My young friend," he murmured, "you may say that to yourself, but +it is not true. It is not life for you to buy these articles of food +at one price and sell them for another; to hold the profit in your +hand and smile. That is what life means in Tooley Street. You could +do it for a little time, perhaps, but not for very long." + +"It may seem absurd to you," Arnold protested, "but it's my duty for +the present, anyhow, and I am going to do it. I shall have to work +ten hours a day and I shall have no time for dreams. I am going to +stay in the atmosphere I have to live in." + +Sabatini shook his head. + +"You must have relaxation." + +"I can find it," Arnold replied. "I can find it without going so far +afield." + +Sabatini was silent for a moment. He was a man of few expressions, +but he seemed a little disappointed. + +"Will you do your duty any the less zealously, do you think," he +asked, "because you have friends who take an interest in you?" + +Arnold was suddenly conscious of the ungraciousness of his +attitude. + +"You don't understand!" he exclaimed, a little desperately. "Your +world wasn't made for me. I haven't any place in it. My work is +here. I can't allow myself always to be distracted. Your sister is +the most wonderful person I ever met, and it is one of the greatest +pleasures I have ever known to talk to her, even for a few minutes, +but I am more at peace with myself and with the world when I am away +from her." + +There was a gleam of approval in Sabatini's dark eyes. He nodded +thoughtfully. + +"It is well spoken. My sister chose to marry Samuel Weatherley, and +the women of our race have been famous throughout history for their +constancy. Must you, my dear young friend, go and hide your head in +the sand because a woman is beautiful and chooses to be kind to you? +Fenella values your friendship. You have done her a service and you +have done me a service. A few nights ago it amused me to feed your +suspicions. This morning I feel otherwise. We do not choose, either +of us, that you should think of us quite in the way you are thinking +now." + +Arnold hesitated no longer then. He came and stood by his visitor. + +"Since you insist, then," he declared, "I will ask you the questions +which I should have asked your sister. That is what you desire?" + +"Assuredly," Sabatini assented. + +"First then, who killed Rosario?" + +"There is a certain directness about your methods," Sabatini said +suavely, "which commends itself to me. No one could mistake you for +anything but an Englishman." + +"Tell me who killed Rosario!" Arnold repeated. + +"As you will," Sabatini replied. "Rosario was murdered by a +Portuguese Jew--a man of the name of Isaac Lalonde." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +SOME QUESTIONS ANSWERED + + +Arnold stood quite still for several moments. The shock seemed to +have deprived him even of the power of speech. Sabatini watched him +curiously. + +"Is it my fancy," he inquired, "or is the name familiar to you?" + +"The name is familiar," Arnold confessed. + +Sabatini, for a moment, appeared to be puzzled. + +"Lalonde," he repeated to himself. "Why, Lalonde," he added, looking +up quickly, "was the name of the young lady whom you brought with +you to Bourne End. An uncommon name, too." + +"Her uncle," Arnold declared; "the same man, beyond a doubt. The +police tried to arrest him two days ago, and he escaped. You might +have read of it in the paper. It was spoken of as an attempt to +capture an anarchist. Lalonde fired at them when he made his +escape." + +Sabatini sighed. + +"It is a small world," he admitted. "I know all about Isaac Lalonde, +but I am very sorry indeed to hear that the young lady is connected +with him. She seemed--I hope you will forgive me--to speak as though +she lived in straitened circumstances. Do you mind telling me +whether this event is likely to prove of inconvenience to her?" + +Arnold shook his head. + +"I am making arrangements to find her another apartment," he said. +"We have been through some very dark times together. I feel that I +have the right to do everything that is necessary. I have no one +else to support." + +Sabatini hesitated. + +"If one might be permitted," he began, with what was, for him, a +considerable amount of diffidence,-- + +Arnold interposed a little brusquely. + +"The care of Ruth Lalonde is upon my shoulders," he insisted. "There +can be no question about that. From me it is not charity, for she +shared her meals with me when I was practically starving. I am going +to ask you more questions." + +"Proceed, by all means," Sabatini invited. + +"Was Starling concerned at all in this Rosario affair?" + +"Not directly," Sabatini admitted. + +"Then why," Arnold demanded, "does he hide and behave like a +frightened child?" + +"A pertinent question," Sabatini agreed. "You have to take into +account the man's constitutional cowardice. It is a fact, however, +that he was perfectly well aware of what was going to happen, and +there are circumstances connected with the affair--a document, for +instance, that we know to be in the hands of the police--which +account for their suspicions and would certainly tend to implicate +our friend Starling. It would be quite easy to make out a very +strong case against him." + +"I do not understand," Arnold said, after a moment's silence, "what +interest Lalonde could have had in killing Rosario." + +Sabatini contemplated for a few moments the tip of his patent shoe. +Then he sighed gently and lit a cigarette. + +"For a young man," he remarked, "it is certain that you have a great +deal of curiosity. Still, you have also, I believe, discretion. +Listen, then. There is a certain country in the south of Europe +which all those who are behind the scenes know to be on the brink of +a revolution. The capital is already filled with newspaper +correspondents, the thunder mutters day by day. The army is unpaid +and full of discontent. For that reason, it is believed that their +spirit is entirely revolutionary. Every morning we who know expect +to read in the papers that the royal palace has been stormed and the +king become an exile. This was the state of things until about a +week ago. Did you read the papers on Thursday morning last?" + +Arnold shook his head. + +"Perhaps," he replied. "I saw nothing that I can remember." + +"That morning," Sabatini continued, "the morning of Rosario's death, +one read that the government of that country, which had vainly +applied for a loan to all the bankers of Europe with a view to +satisfying the claims of the army and navy, had at last succeeded in +arranging one through the intervention of Rosario. The paragraph was +probably inspired, but it spoke plainly, going so far, even, as to +say that the loan had probably averted a revolution. The man who had +saved the monarchy of an ancient nation was Rosario. One of his +rewards, I think, was to have been a title and a distinguished +order; it was understood among us that this was the real bait. +Rosario's actual reward you know of." + +"But where does Isaac Lalonde come in?" demanded Arnold. + +"Isaac Lalonde is the London secretary of the revolutionary party of +the country of which I have been speaking. I think," he concluded, +"that your intelligence will make the rest clear." + +Arnold struck the table on the edge of which he was sitting with the +palm of his hand. + +"Look here," he asked hoarsely, "if you knew all these things, if +you knew that Isaac Lalonde had committed this murder, why do you go +about with your lips closed? Why haven't you told the truth? An +innocent man might be arrested at any time." + +Sabatini smiled tolerantly. + +"My dear fellow," he said, "why should I? Be reasonable! When you +reach my age you will find that silence is often best. As a matter +of fact, in this ease my sympathies are very much involved. It is in +the mind of many of those who hold the strings that when that +revolution does take place it will be I who shall lead it." + +Arnold was again bewildered. + +"But you," he protested, "are of the ancient nobility of +Europe. What place have you among a crowd of anarchists and +revolutionaries?" + +"You jump at conclusions, my young friend," remarked Sabatini. "The +country of which we have spoken is my country, the country from +which, by an unjust decree I am exiled. There are among those who +desire a change of government, many aristocrats. It is not only the +democracy whose hatred has been aroused by the selfish and brutal +methods of the reigning house." + +Arnold got down from his table and walked to the window. The +telephone rang with some insignificant inquiry from a customer. The +incident somehow relieved him. It brought him back to the world of +every-day events. The reality of life once more obtruded itself upon +his conscience. All the time Sabatini lounged at his ease and +watched him, always with the faint beginning of a smile upon his +lips. + +"What I have told you," the latter continued, after a few moments' +pause, "must not, during these days, pass beyond the four walls of +this singularly uninviting-looking apartment. I have nothing to add +or to take from what I have said. The subject is closed. If you have +more questions on any other subject, I have still a few minutes." + +"Very well, then," Arnold said, coming back to his place, "let us +consider the Rosario matter disposed of. Let us go back for a moment +to Starling. Tell me why you and your sister saw danger to +yourselves in Starling's nervous breakdown? Tell me why, when I +returned to Pelham Lodge with her that night, she found a dead man +in her room, a man whose body was afterwards mysteriously removed?" + +"Quite a spirited number of questions," Sabatini remarked. "Well, to +begin with, then, Rosario signed his death-warrant the moment he +wrote his name across the parchment which guaranteed the loan. On +the night when you first visited Pelham Lodge we heard the news. I +believe that Lalonde and his friends would have killed him that +night if they could have got at him. Lalonde, however, was a person +of strange and inaccessible habits. He hated all aristocrats, and he +refused even to communicate with me. Speaking for myself, I was just +as determined as Isaac Lalonde that Rosario should never conclude +that loan. I told him so that night--Starling and I together. It was +thought necessary, by those whose word I am content to accept, that +what I had to say to Rosario should come through Starling. It was +Starling, therefore, who told him what his position would be if he +proceeded further. I must admit that the fellow showed courage. He +took a note of Starling's words, which he declared at the time +should be deposited in his safe, so that if anything should happen +to him, some evidence might be forthcoming. The police, without a +doubt, have been in possession of this document, and, curiously +enough, Starling was at the _Milan_ that day. You will perceive, +therefore, that in the absence, even, of a reasonable alibi it might +be difficult to prove his innocence. To our surprise, however, for +we had some faith in the fellow, instead of taking this matter with +the indifference of a brave man, he has chosen to behave like a +child. In his present half maudlin state he would, I am afraid, if +in serious danger of conviction, make statements likely to cause a +good deal of inconvenience to myself, my sister's friends, and +others." + +"Does he know himself who committed the murder?" Arnold asked. + +Sabatini smiled. + +"Perfectly well," he admitted, "but the fact helps him very little. +Isaac Lalonde is rather a notable figure among European criminals. +He belongs to a company of anarchists, well-meaning but +bloodthirsty, who hold by one another to the death. If Starling, to +save himself, were to disclose the name of the real murderer, he +would simply make his exit from this life with a knife through his +heart instead of the hangman's rope about his neck. These fellows, I +believe, seldom commit crimes, but they are very much in earnest and +very dangerous. If you ever happen to meet one of them with a red +signet-ring upon his fourth finger, you can look out for trouble." + +Arnold shivered for a moment. + +"I have seen that ring," he murmured. + +"You were a spectator of the tragedy, I remember," Sabatini agreed, +pleasantly. "Now are you quite satisfied about Starling?" + +"I have heard all I want to about that," Arnold admitted. + +"We come, then, to your last question," Sabatini said. "You demand +to know the meaning of the unfortunate incident which occurred in my +sister's boudoir. Here I think that I am really going to surprise +you." + +"Nothing," Arnold declared, fervently, "could surprise me. However, +go on." + +"Neither Fenella nor myself," Sabatini asserted, "have the slightest +idea as to how that man met with his death." + +"But you know who he was?" Arnold asked. "You know why he was +watching your house, why he seems to have broken into it?" + +"I can assure you," Sabatini repeated, "that not only am I ignorant +as to how the man met with his death, but I have no idea what he was +doing in the house at all. The night Rosario was there it was +different. They were on his track then, without a doubt, and they +meant mischief. Since then, however, there has been a pronounced +difference of opinion between the two branches of the revolutionary +party--the one which I represent and the one which includes Lalonde +and his friends. The consequence is that although we may be said to +be working for the same ends, we have drawn a little apart. We have +had no communications whatever with Lalonde and his friends since +the murder of Rosario. Therefore, I can only repeat that I am +entirely in the dark as to what that man was doing in my sister's +rooms or how he met with his death. You must remember that these +fellows are all more or less criminals. Lalonde, I believe, is +something of an exception, but the rest of them are at war with +Society to the extent of enriching themselves at the expense of +their wealthier neighbors on every possible occasion. It is quite +likely that the night they were watching Rosario it may have +occurred to them that my sister's room contained a good many +valuable trifles and was easily entered, especially as they seem to +have had a meeting place close at hand. That, however, is pure +surmise. You follow me?" + +Arnold sighed. + +"In a way, I suppose I do," he admitted. "But--it isn't easy, is +it?" + +"These matters are not easy," Sabatini agreed. "There are motives +and counter-motives to be taken note of with which at present I do +not weary you. I give you the clue. It is enough." + +"But the mystery of the man's body being removed?" Arnold began. + +Sabatini shrugged his shoulders. + +"Our knowledge ends with what I have told you," he said. "We have +no idea who killed the man, and what we know about his removal we +know only from what you saw." + +Arnold sat thinking for several moments. The telephone rang and some +one inquired for Mr. Weatherley. When he had answered it, he turned +once more to his visitor. + +"Do you know," he remarked, "that nothing that you have yet told me +throws the slightest light upon the disappearance of Mr. +Weatherley?" + +Sabatini smiled. + +"Ah! well," he said, "I am afraid that as yet I have not fully +appreciated that incident. In France it is by no means unusual that +a man should take a hurried journey from his family. I, perhaps, +have not sufficiently taken into account Mr. Weatherley's exactness +and probity of life. His disappearance may, indeed, have a more +alarming significance than either my sister or I have been inclined +to give it, but let me assure you of this, my dear Chetwode, that +even if Mr. Weatherley has come to serious grief, neither Fenella +nor I can suggest the slightest explanation for it. She knows of no +reason for his absence. Neither do I. She is, however, just as +convinced as I am that he will turn up again, and before very long." + +Sabatini pushed away his chair and prepared to leave. His hand fell +carelessly and yet almost affectionately upon the young man's +shoulder. + +"Perhaps," he said, quietly, "I am what you are doubtless thinking +me--something of a _poseur_. Perhaps I do like making a tax upon +your sober British rectitude. I will admit that the spirit of +adventure is in my heart; I will admit that there is in my blood +the desire to take from him who hath and give to him who hath not; +but, on the other hand, I have my standards, and I seriously do not +think that you would be risking very much if you accepted my +invitation to lunch to-day." + +Arnold held out his hand. + +"If I hesitate for a single moment," he replied frankly, "it is +because of my work here. However, as you say that Mrs. Weatherley +will be there, I will come." + +"We shall look forward to the pleasure, then," Sabatini concluded. +"Now I will leave you to go on with your money-coining. Au revoir!" + +He strolled gracefully out, pausing on his way through the clerk's +office to offer a courteous farewell to Mr. Jarvis. The great +automobile glided away. Arnold came back from the window and sat +down in front of his desk. Before his eyes was a pile of invoices, +in his brain a strange medley of facts and fancies. + +Mr. Jarvis came bustling in. + +"About those Canadian hams, Chetwode," he began,-- + +Arnold recognized the voice of his saviour. + +"We'll go into the matter at once," he declared, briskly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +A LUNCHEON-PARTY + + +It seemed to Arnold that he had passed, indeed, into a different +world as he followed Count Sabatini's austere looking butler across +the white stone hall into the cool dining-room, where the little +party which he had come to join was already at luncheon. Outside, an +unexpected heat seemed to have baked the streets and drained the +very life from the air. Here the blinds were closely drawn; the +great height of the room with its plain, faultless decorations, its +piles of sweet-smelling flowers, and the faint breeze that came +through the Venetian blinds, made it like a little oasis of coolness +and repose. The luncheon-party consisted of four people--Count +Sabatini himself, Lady Blennington, Fenella, and a young man whom +Arnold had seen once before, attached to one of the Legations. +Fenella held out both her hands. + +"I'm afraid I am late," Arnold said. + +"It is my fault for not mentioning the hour," Sabatini interposed. +"We are continental in our tastes and we like to breakfast early." + +"In any case, you would be forgiven," Fenella declared, "for this, +as you know, is our party of reconciliation." + +"What, have you two been quarreling?" Lady Blennington exclaimed. +"You don't deserve to have admirers, Fenella. You always treat them +badly. How is it you've never been to see me, Mr. Chetwode?" + +"Not because I have forgotten your kind invitation," Arnold replied, +taking the chair by Fenella's side which the butler was holding for +him. "Unfortunately, I am at work nearly every afternoon." + +"Mr. Chetwode is my husband's secretary now, you must remember," +Fenella remarked, "and during his absence he naturally finds a great +deal to do." + +"Well, I am sure I am only too glad," Lady Blennington said, "to +hear of a young man who does any work at all, nowadays. They mostly +seem to do nothing but hang about looking for a job. When you told +me," she continued, "that you were really in the city, I wasn't at +all sure that you were in earnest." + +Sabatini sighed. + +"I can assure you, Lady Blennington," he declared, "that so far as +my sex is represented here to-day, we are very strenuous people +indeed. Signor di Marito here carries upon his shoulders a burden, +just at the present moment, which few of the ambassadors would care +to have to deal with. Mr. Chetwode I have visited in his office, and +I can assure you that so far as his industry is concerned there is +no manner of doubt. As for myself--" + +Lady Blennington interrupted gayly. + +"Come," she said, "I believe it of these two others, if you insist, +but you are not going to ask us to believe that you, the +personification of idleness, are also among the toilers!" + +Sabatini looked at her reproachfully. + +"One is always misunderstood," he murmured. "This morning, as a +matter of fact, I have been occupied since daybreak." + +"Let us hear all about it," Lady Blennington demanded. + +"My energies have been directed into two channels," Sabatini +announced. "I have been making preparations for a possible journey, +and I have been trying to find a missing man." + +Arnold looked up quickly. Fenella paused with her glass raised to +her lips. + +"Who is the missing man?" Lady Blennington asked. + +"Mr. Weatherley," Sabatini replied. "We can scarcely call him that, +perhaps, but he has certainly gone off on a little expedition +without leaving his address." + +"Well, you amaze me!" Lady Blennington exclaimed. "I never thought +that he was that sort of a husband." + +"Did you make any discoveries?" asked Arnold. + +Sabatini shook his head. + +"None," he confessed. "As an investigator I was a failure. However, +I must say that I prosecuted my inquiries in one direction only. It +may interest you to know that I have come to the conclusion that Mr. +Weatherley's disappearance is not connected in any way with the +matters of which we spoke this morning." + +"Then it remains the more mysterious," declared Arnold. + +"Fenella, at any rate, is not disposed to wear widow's weeds," +remarked Lady Blennington. "Cheer up, dear, he'll come back all +right. Husbands always do. It is our other intimate friends who +desert us." + +Fenella laughed. + +"I am quite sure that you are right," she admitted. "I am not really +worried at all. It is a very annoying manner, however, in which to +go away, this,--a desertion most unceremonious. And now Andrea here +tells me that at any moment he may leave me, too." + +They all looked at him. He inclined his head gravely. + +"Nothing is decided," he said. "I have friends abroad who generally +let me know when things are stirring. There is a little cloud--it +may blow over or it may be the presage of a storm. In a day or two +we shall know." + +"You men are to be envied," Lady Blennington sighed, speaking for a +moment more seriously. "You have the power always to roam. You +follow the music of the world wherever you will. The drum beats, you +pull up your stakes, and away you go. But for us poor women, alas! +there is never any pulling up of the stakes. We, too, hear the +music--perhaps we hear it oftener than you--but we may not follow." + +"You have compensations," Sabatini remarked. + +"We have compensations, of course," Lady Blennington admitted, "but +what do they amount to, after all?" + +"You have also a different set of instincts," Signor di Marito +interposed. "There are other things in the life of a woman than to +listen always to the wander-music." + +"The question is as old as the hills," Fenella declared, "and it +bores me. I want some more omelette. Really, Andrea, your chef is a +treasure. If you get your summons, I think that I shall take him +over. Who will come to the theatre with me to-night? I have two +stalls for the _Gaiety_." + +"I can't," Lady Blennington remarked. "I am going to a foolish +dinner-party, besides which, of course, you don't want to be +bothered with a woman." + +"Nor can I," Sabatini echoed. "I have appointments all the evening." + +"I, alas!" Signor di Marito sighed, "must not leave my post for one +single moment. These are no days for theatre-going for my poor +countrymen." + +"Then the duty seems to devolve upon you," Fenella decided, smiling +toward Arnold. + +"I am sorry," he replied, "but I, too, seem to be unfortunate. I +could not possibly get away from the city in time." + +"Absurd!" she answered, a little sharply. "You are like a boy with a +new hobby. It is I who wish that you leave when you choose." + +"Apart from that," Arnold continued, "I am sorry, but I have an +engagement for the evening." + +She made a little grimace. + +"With your invalid friend?" + +Arnold assented. + +"I should not like to leave her alone this evening. She has been in +a great deal of trouble lately." + +There was a moment's silence. A slight frown had gathered on +Fenella's forehead. + +"I noticed that she was dressed wholly in black," she remarked. +"Perhaps she is in trouble because she has lost a relative lately?" + +"She appears to have no relatives in the world," Arnold declared, +"except an uncle, and he, I am afraid, is a little worse than +useless to her." + +Sabatini, who had been listening, leaned a little forward. + +"She lives entirely alone with the uncle of whom you have spoken?" +he asked. + +"Up till yesterday she has done so," Arnold answered gravely. "Just +at present, as you know, he has gone away. I only wish that I could +find him." + +"Going away, as you put it," Fenella murmured, "seems to be rather +the fashion just now." + +Arnold glanced up quickly but her expression was entirely innocent. +He looked across the table, however, and found that Sabatini was +watching him pensively. Fenella leaned towards him. She spoke almost +in a whisper, but her tone was cold, almost unfriendly. + +"I think," she said, "that with regard to that young woman you carry +chivalry too far." + +Arnold flushed slightly. Then Sabatini, with a little murmur of +words, changed the conversation. Once more it became entirely +general, and presently the meal drew towards a pleasant termination. +Fenella and Lady Blennington left together. At the moment of +departure, the former turned towards Arnold. + +"So I cannot induce you to become my escort for to-night?" she +asked. + +There was appeal, half humorous, half pathetic in her eyes. Arnold +hesitated, but only for a moment. + +"I am sorry," he said, "but indeed I shall not be able to leave the +office until after the time for the theatre." + +"You will not obey my orders about the office?" + +"I could not, in any case, leave Ruth alone this evening," he +replied. + +She turned away from him. The little gesture with which she refused +to see his hand seemed to be one of dismissal. + +"Signor di Marito, you will take us to the automobile, will you +not?" she said. "Perhaps we can drop you somewhere? Good-bye, +Andrea, and thank you very much for your charming luncheon. If the +message comes, you will telephone, I know?" + +Arnold lingered behind while Sabatini showed his guests to the door. +When he, too, would have left, however, his host motioned him to +resume his chair. + +"Sit down for a few minutes," he begged. "You have probably seen +enough of me for to-day, but I may be called away from England at +any moment and there is a question I want to ask you before I go." + +Arnold nodded. + +"You are really in earnest, then, about leaving?" he asked. + +"Assuredly," Sabatini replied. "I cannot tell you exactly how things +may go in my country, but if there is a rising against the reigning +house, a Sabatini will certainly be there. I have had some +experience in soldiering, and I have a following. It is true that I +am an exile, but I feel that my place is somewhere near the +frontier." + +Arnold glanced enviously at the man who lounged in the chair +opposite him. He seemed to carry even about his person a flavor from +the far-off land of adventures. + +"What I want to ask you is this," Sabatini said. "A few minutes ago +you declared that you were anxious to discover the whereabouts of +your little friend's uncle. Tell me why?" + +"I will tell you, with pleasure," Arnold answered. "You see, she is +left absolutely alone in the world. I do not grumble at the charge +of her, for when I was nearly starving she was kind to me, and we +passed our darkest days together. On the other hand, I know that she +feels it keenly, and I think it is only right to try and find out if +she has no relatives or friends who could possibly look after her." + +"It is perfectly reasonable," Sabatini confessed. "I can tell you +where to find Isaac Lalonde, if you wish." + +Arnold's little exclamation was one almost of dismay. + +"You know?" he cried. + +"Naturally," Sabatini admitted. "You have a tender conscience, my +young friend, and a very limited knowledge of the great necessities +of the world. You think that a man like Isaac Lalonde has no real +place in a wholesome state of society. You have some reason in what +you think, but you are not altogether right. In any case, this is +the truth. However much it may horrify you to know it, and +notwithstanding our recent differences of opinion, communications +have frequently taken place between the committee who are organizing +the outbreak in Portugal, among which you may number me, and the +extreme anarchists whom Isaac represents." + +"You would not really accept aid from such?" Arnold exclaimed. + +Sabatini smiled tolerantly. + +"There are many unworthy materials," he said, "which go to the +building of a great structure. Youth rebels at their use but age and +experience recognize their necessity. The anarchist of your +halfpenny papers and _Police News_ is not always the bloodthirsty +ruffian that you who read them are led to suppose. Very often he is +a man who strenuously seeks to see the light. It is not always his +fault if the way which is shown him to freedom must cross the rivers +of blood." + +Arnold moved uneasily in his chair. His host spoke with such quiet +conviction that the stock arguments which rose to his lips seemed +somehow curiously ineffective. + +"Nevertheless," he protested, "the philosophy of revolutions--" + +"We will not discuss it," Sabatini declared, with a smile. "You and +I need not waste our time in academic discussion. These things are +beside the mark. What I had to say to you is this. If you really +wish to speak with Isaac Lalonde, and will give me your word to keep +the knowledge of him to yourself, I can tell you where to find him." + +"I do wish to speak to him for the reasons I have told you," Arnold +replied. "If he were to disappear from the face of the earth, as +seems extremely probable at the present moment, Ruth would be left +without a friend in the world except myself." + +Sabatini wrote an address upon a slip of paper. + +"You will find him there," he announced. "Go slowly, for the +neighborhood is dangerous. Can I drop you anywhere?" + +Arnold shook his head. + +"Thank you," he said, "I must go straight back to the office. I will +take the tube from the corner." + +Sabatini escorted his guest to the door. As they stood there +together, looking down into the quiet street, he laid his hand upon +the young man's shoulder. + +"I will not say good-bye," he declared, "because, although I am +here waiting all the time, I do not believe that the hour has come +for me to go. It will be soon but not just yet. When we first met, I +thought that I should like to take you with me. I thought that the +life in what will become practically a new country, would appeal to +you. Since then I have changed my mind. I have thought of my own +career, and I have seen that it is not the life or career for a +young man to follow. The adventures of the worker in the cities are +a little grayer, perhaps, than those which come to the man who is +born a wanderer, but they lead home just as surely--perhaps more +safely. Au revoir!" + +He turned away abruptly. The door was softly closed. Arnold went +down the steps and set his face citywards. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +ISAAC IN HIDING + + +Arnold, as he neared the end of his journey, felt, indeed, that he +had found his way into some alien world. The streets through which, +after many directions, he had passed, had all been strange to him, +strange not only because of their narrowness, their poverty, their +ill flavor, but on account, also, of the foreign names above the +shops, the street cries, and the dark, unfamiliar aspects of the +people. After losing his way more than once, he discovered at last a +short street branching out of a narrow but populous thoroughfare. +There were no visible numbers, but counting the houses on the +left-hand side, and finding the door of the seventh open, he made +his way inside. The place was silent and seemed deserted. He climbed +the stairs to the second story and knocked at the door of the front +room. So far, although barely a hundred yards away was a street +teeming with human beings, he had not seen a soul in the place. + +His first knock remained unanswered. He tried again. This time he +heard a movement inside which he construed as an invitation to +enter. He threw open the door and stepped in. The blind was closely +drawn, and to his eyes, unaccustomed to the gloom, there seemed to +be no one in the place. Suddenly the fire of an electric torch +flashed into his eyes, a familiar voice from a distant corner +addressed him. + +"What the devil are you doing here?" + +The light was as suddenly turned off. Arnold could see now that the +man whom he had come to visit had barricaded himself behind an +upturned table in a distant corner of the room. + +"I want a word or two with you, Isaac," Arnold said. + +"Who told you where to find me?" + +"Count Sabatini." + +"Have you told any one else?" + +"No!" + +"Are you alone?" + +"Absolutely." + +Isaac came slowly out into the room. His appearance, if possible, +was a little more ghastly even than when Arnold had seen him last. +He was unshaven, and his eyes shone with the furtiveness of some +hunted animal. In his hand he was holding a murderous-looking +pistol. + +"Say what you want--be quick--and get away," Isaac muttered. "I am +not here to receive visitors--not your sort, any way. You understand +that?" + +"You seem to be prepared to receive some one in a most unpleasant +manner," Arnold said gravely. "Is that sort of thing worth while, +Isaac?" + +"Worth while!" + +There was a brief pause. Arnold, having asked his question, was +looking at his companion, half in horror, half in pity. Isaac, white +with passion, seemed unable for the moment to make any intelligible +reply. Then, drawing in his breath as though with an effort, he +walked past Arnold and stood for a moment on the threshold of the +door, listening intently. Satisfied, apparently, that there was +nothing to be heard save the usual street noises, he closed the door +softly and came back into the room. + +"You," he said to Arnold, "are one of the clods of the earth, to +whom it is not given to understand. You are one of those who would +fall before the carriages of the rich and hold out your hands for +their alms. You are one of those who could weep and weep and watch +the children die, wringing your hands, while the greedy ones of the +world stuff themselves at their costly restaurants. The world is +full of such as you. It is full, too, of many like myself, in whose +blood the fever burns, into whose brain the knowledge of things has +entered, in whose heart the seared iron burns." + +"That's all right for Hyde Park," Arnold declared, bluntly, "but do +you imagine you are going to help straighten the world by this sort +of thing?" + +"In my way, I am," Isaac snarled. "What do you know of it, you +smooth-faced, healthy young animal, comfortably born, comfortably +bred, falling always on your feet in comfortable fashion, with the +poison of comfort in your veins? You look at my pistol as an evil +thing, because it can spell the difference between life and death. I +will tell you what it represents to me. It represents my rebellion +and the rebellion of my class against what you choose to call here +law and order. Law and order are good enough things, but they have +become the tools with which the smug rich keep themselves in luxury +in the fat places of the world, while millions of others, gripping +vainly at the outside of life, fall off into the bottomless chasm." + +"It's the wrong method, Isaac," Arnold insisted, earnestly. + +Isaac threw out his hand--a little gesture, half of contempt, not +altogether without its touch of dignity. + +"This isn't any place for words," he said, "nor is it given to you +to be the champion of your class. Let me alone. Speak your errand +and be gone! No one can tell when the end may come. It will be +better for you, when it does, that you are not here." + +"I have come on account of your niece, whom you left penniless and +homeless," Arnold said sternly. "With your immense sympathy for +others, perhaps you can explain this little act of inattention on +your part?" + +Isaac's start of surprise was genuine enough. + +"I had forgotten her," he admitted curtly. "I saw the red fires that +night and since then there has been no moment to breathe or +think--nothing to do but get ready for the end. I had forgotten +her." + +"She is safe, for the present," Arnold told him. "My circumstances +have improved and I have taken a small flat in which there is a room +for her. This may do for the present, but Ruth, after all, is a +young woman. She is morbidly sensitive. However willing I may be, +and I am willing, it is not right that she should remain with me. I +have always taken it for granted that save for you she has no +relatives and no friends. Is this the truth? Is there no one whom +she has the right to ask for a home?" + +Isaac was silent. Some movements in the street below disturbed him, +and he walked with catlike tread to the window, peering through a +hole in the blind for several moments. When he was satisfied that +nothing unusual was transpiring, he came back. + +"Listen," he said hoarsely, "I am a dead man already in all but +facts. I can tell you nothing of Ruth's relatives. Better that she +starved upon the streets than found them. But there is her chance +still. My mind has been filled with big things and I had forgotten +it. Before we moved into Adam Street, the last doctor who saw Ruth +suggested an operation. He felt sure that it would be successful. It +was to cost forty guineas. I have saved very nearly the whole of +that money. It stands in her name at the Westminster Savings Bank. +If she goes there and proves her identity, she can get it. I saved +that money--God knows how!" + +"What is the name of the doctor?" Arnold asked. + +"His name was Heskell and he was at the London Hospital," Isaac +replied. "Now I have done with you. That is Ruth's chance--there is +nothing else I can do. Be off as quickly as you can. If you give +information as to my whereabouts, you will probably pay for it with +your life, for there are others besides myself who are hiding in +this house. Now go. Do you hear?" + +Arnold's anger against the man suddenly faded away. It seemed to +him, as he stood there, that he was but a product of the times, +fashioned by the grinding wheel of circumstance, a physical wreck, a +creature without love or life or hope. + +"Isaac," he said, "why don't you try and escape? Get away to some +other country, out onto the land somewhere. Leave the wrongs of +these others to come right with time. Work for your daily bread, +give your brain a rest." + +Isaac made no reply. Only his long, skinny forefinger shot out +toward the door. Arnold knew that he might just as well have been +talking to the most hopeless lunatic ever confined in padded room. + +"If this is to be farewell, Isaac," he continued, "let me at least +tell you this before I go. You are doing Ruth a cruel wrong. God +knows I am willing enough to take charge of her, but it's none the +less a brutal position for you to put her in. You have the chance, +if you will, to set her free. Think what her life has been up till +now. Have you ever thought of it, I wonder? Have you ever thought of +the long days she has spent in that attic when you have been away, +without books, with barely enough to eat, without companionship or +friends? These are the things to which you have doomed her by your +cursed selfishness. If she has friends who could take her away, and +you refuse to speak, then all I can say is that you deserve any fate +that may come to you." + +Isaac remained silent for several moments. His face was dark and +dogged. When he spoke, it was with reluctance. + +"Young man," he said, "every word which you have spoken has been in +my brain while I have lain here waiting for the end. A few hours ago +I slept and had a dream. When I awoke, I was weak. See here." + +He drew from his pocket two sheets of closely-written foolscap. + +"The story of Ruth's life is here," he declared. "I wrote it with a +stump of pencil on the back of this table. I wrote it, but I have +changed my mind, and I am going to tear it up." + +Arnold was light on his feet, with a great reach, and Isaac was +unprepared. In a moment the latter was on his back, and the soiled +sheets of foolscap were in Arnold's pocket. Isaac's fingers seemed +to hover upon the trigger of his pistol as he lay there, crouched +against the wall. + +"Don't be a fool!" Arnold cried, roughly. "You'll do no good by +killing me. The girl has a right to her chance." + +There were several seconds of breathless silence, during which it +seemed to Arnold that Isaac had made up and changed his mind more +than once. Then at last he lowered his pistol. + +"We'll call it chance," he muttered. "I never meant to write the +rubbish. Since you have got it, though, it is the truth. Do with it +what you will. There is one thing more. You know this man Sabatini?" + +"If you mean the Count Sabatini, it was he who gave me your +address," Arnold reminded him. + +Isaac smiled grimly. + +"Citizen Sabatini is all we know him by here. He knows well that to +a man with his aspirations, a man who desires to use as his tools +such as myself and my comrades, a title is an evil recommendation. +He came to us first, as a man and a brother,--he, Count Sabatini, +Marquis de Lossa, Chevalier de St. Jerome, Knight of the Holy Roman +Empire,--an aristocrat, you perceive, and one of the worst. Yet we +have trusted him." + +"I do not believe," Arnold exclaimed, "that Sabatini would betray +any one!" + +"I am not accusing him," Isaac said solemnly. "I simply hold that +he is not the man to lead a great revolutionary movement. It is for +that reason, among others, that I have rejected his advances. +Sabatini as president would mean very much the same thing as a king. +Will you give him a message from me?" + +"Yes," Arnold answered, "I will do that." + +"Tell him, if indeed he has the courage which fame has bestowed upon +him, to come here and bid me farewell. I have certain things to say +to him." + +"I will give him your message," Arnold promised, "but I shall not +advise him to come." + +A look of anger flashed in Isaac's face. The pistol which had never +left his grip was slowly raised, only to be lowered again. + +"Do as I say," he repeated. "Tell him to come. Perhaps I may have +more to say to him about that other matter than I choose to say to +you." + +"About Ruth?" + +"About Ruth," Isaac repeated, sternly. + +"You would trust a stranger," Arnold exclaimed, "with information +which you deny me--her friend?" + +Isaac waved him away. + +"Be off," he said, tersely. "I have queer humors sometimes lying +here waiting for the end. Don't let it be your fate to excite one of +them. You have had your escape." + +"What do you mean?" Arnold demanded. + +Isaac laughed hoarsely. + +"How many nights ago was it," he asked, "that you threw up a window +in the man Weatherley's house--the night Morris and I were there, +seeking for Rosario?" + +"I never saw you!" Arnold exclaimed. + +"No, but you saw Morris," Isaac continued. "What is more, you saw +him again on the stairs with me that night, and it very nearly cost +you your life. Lucky for you, young man, that you were not at +Hampstead the night when Morris went there to seek for you!" + +Arnold was speechless. + +"You mean that he was there that night looking for me?" he cried. + +"He hated you all," Isaac muttered, "you and the woman and Sabatini, +and he was a little mad--just a little mad. If he had found you all +there--" + +"Well?" Arnold interposed, breathlessly. + +Isaac shook his head. + +"Never mind!" + +"But I do mind," Arnold insisted. "I want to know about that night. +Was it in search of us--" + +Isaac held out his skinny hand. There was a dangerous glitter in his +eyes. + +"It is enough," he snarled. "I have no more to say about what is +past. Send me Sabatini and he shall hear news from me." + +Arnold retreated slowly towards the threshold. + +"If you will take the advice of a sane man," he said, "you will +throw that thing away and escape. If I can help--" + +Isaac was already creeping to his hiding-place. He turned around +with a contemptuous gesture. + +"There is no escape for me," he declared. "Every day the police draw +their circle closer. So much the better! When they come, they will +find me prepared! If you are still here in sixty seconds," he added, +"I will treat you as I shall treat them." + +Arnold closed the door and made his way into the street. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +SABATINI'S DAUGHTER + + +Sabatini, already dressed for the evening, his coat upon his arm, +paused only to light a cigarette and read once more the telegram +which he held between his fingers, before he left his house to step +into the automobile which was waiting outside. His servant entered +the room with his silk hat. + +"You will remember carefully my instructions, Pietro?" he said. + +"Assuredly, sir," the man answered. + +"If there is a telegram, any communication from the Embassy, or +telephone message, you will bring it to me yourself, at once, at +number 17, Grosvenor Square. If any one should call to see me, you +know exactly where I am to be found." + +"There is a young gentleman here now, sir," the man announced. "He +has just arrived." + +"The young gentleman who was here before, to-day?" Sabatini asked. + +"The same, Excellency." + +Sabatini laid down his coat. + +"You can show him in," he directed. "Wait for me outside." + +Arnold, who had come straight from the unknown world in which he +had found Isaac, was shown in immediately. Pietro closed the door +and withdrew. Sabatini looked inquiringly at his visitor. + +"You have seen Isaac?" he asked. + +"I have seen him," Arnold assented. + +"You bring me news?" + +"It is true," Arnold replied. "I bring news." + +Sabatini waited patiently. Arnold remained, for a moment, gloomily +silent. It was hard to know how to commence. + +"You will forgive my reminding you," Sabatini said quietly, "that I +am on the point of starting out to keep an engagement. I would not +mention it but in one respect London hostesses are exacting. There +are many liberties which are permitted here, but one must not be +late for dinner." + +Arnold's memory flashed back to the scene which he had just left--to +Isaac, the outcast, crouched beneath his barricade of furniture, +waiting in the darkness with his loaded pistol and murder in his +heart. Sabatini, calm and dignified in his rigidly correct evening +dress, his grace and good-looks, represented with curious +appositeness the other extreme of life. + +"I will not keep you long," Arnold began, "but there is something +which you must hear from me, and hear at once." + +"Assuredly," Sabatini murmured. "It is something connected with your +visit to this poor, misguided outcast. I am afraid there is nothing +we can do for him." + +"There is nothing any one can do for him," Arnold declared. "I went +to see him because, when he fled from his rooms and they were seized +by the police, his niece was left penniless and homeless. +Fortunately, the change in my own circumstances permitted me to +offer her a shelter--for the moment, at any rate. I have told you +something of this before but I am obliged to repeat it. You will +understand presently. It is of some importance." + +Sabatini bowed. + +"The young lady is still under your care?" he asked. + +"She is still with me," Arnold admitted. "I took two rooms not very +far away from here. I did it because it was the only thing to do, +but I can see now that as a permanent arrangement it will not +answer. Already, even, a shadow seems to have sprung up between us. +I am beginning to understand what it is. I have always looked upon +Ruth as being somewhat different from other women because of her +infirmity. It is dawning upon me now that, after all, the infirmity +counts for little. She is a woman, with a woman's sensibility and +all that goes with it. It troubles her to be living alone with me." + +A shadow of perplexity passed across Sabatini's face. This young man +was very much in earnest and spoke as though he had good reasons for +these explanations, yet the reasons themselves were not obvious and +the minutes were passing. + +"She seemed to me," he murmured, "to be a very charming and +distinguished young lady." + +"I am glad to hear you say so," Arnold declared. "To-day I went to +Isaac that he might tell me whether there were not some relatives of +hers in the world to whom she could apply for help and shelter. I +pointed out that he had left Ruth alone and penniless; that although +the charge of her was nothing but a pleasure to me, it was not +fitting that I should undertake it. I insisted upon his telling me +the name of at least one of her relatives, so that I might let them +know of her existence and beg for a home for her." + +"It was a reasonable request," Sabatini remarked. "I trust that the +fellow recognized the situation?" + +"He had already written out Ruth's history," Arnold said, his voice +shaking a little. "He had written it out in pencil on a couple of +sheets of foolscap. He gave them to me to bring away with me. I read +them coming up. I am here now to repeat their purport to you." + +Sabatini gave a little nod of interest. His glance at the clock was +apologetic. He had thrown his overcoat once more upon his arm, and, +with his white-gloved hand resting upon the back of a chair, stood +listening in an attitude of courteous ease. + +"I shall be glad to hear the story," he said. "I must admit that +although I only met the young lady for those few minutes at Bourne +End, I found myself most interested in her. I feel sure that she is +charming in every way. Please go on." + +"If Isaac's story is true," Arnold continued slowly, "you should +indeed be interested in her." + +Sabatini's eyebrows were slightly raised. + +"I scarcely understand," he murmured. "I--pray go on." + +"According to his story," Arnold said, "Ruth Lalonde is your +daughter." + +Sabatini stood perfectly motionless. The slight expression of tired +attention with which he had been listening, had faded from his face. +In the late sunshine which still filled the room, there was +something almost corpse-like in the pallor of his cheeks, his +unnatural silence. When he spoke, his words came slowly. + +"Is this a jest?" + +"Isaac's story is that you married her mother, who was his sister, +in Paris, nineteen and a half years ago. Her name was Cécile Ruth +Leneveu, and she was acting at one of the theatres. She was really +Isaac's half-sister. His father had brought him from Paris when he +was only a child, and married again almost at once. According to his +story, Ruth's mother lived with you for two years--until, in fact, +you went to Chili to take command of the troops there, at the time +of the revolution. When you returned, she was dead. You were told +that she had given birth to a daughter and that she, too, had died." + +"That is true," Sabatini admitted slowly. "I came back because of +her illness, but I was too late." + +"The child did not die," Arnold continued. "She was brought up by +Isaac in a small convent near Rouen, where she remained until two +years ago, when he was forced to come to England. He brought her +with him as, owing to her accident, she was unable to take the post +of teacher for which she had been intended, and the convent where +she was living was unexpectedly broken up. Since then she has lived +a sad life with him in London. His has been simply a hand-to-mouth +existence." + +"But I do not understand why I was kept in ignorance," Sabatini +declared. "Why did he not appeal to me for help? Why was my +daughter's existence kept a secret from me?" + +"Because Isaac is half a fanatic and half a madman," Arnold replied. +"You represent to him the class he loathes, the class he has hated +all his life, and against which he has waged ceaseless war. He hated +your marriage to his sister, and his feelings were the more +embittered because it suited you to keep it private. He has nursed a +bitter feeling against you all his life for this reason." + +Sabatini turned stiffly away. He walked to the window, standing for +a moment or two with his back to Arnold, looking out into the quiet +street. Then he came back. + +"I must go to this man at once," he said. "You can take me there?" + +"I can take you," Arnold assented, doubtfully, "and I have even a +message from him asking you to visit him, but I warn you that he is +in a dangerous mood. I found him the solitary occupant of a +miserable room in the back street of a quarter of London which +reminded me more than anything else of some foreign city. He has +cleared the furniture from the room, reared a table up on end, and +is crouching behind it with a Mauser pistol in his hand and a box of +cartridges by his side. My own belief is that he is insane." + +"It is of no account, that," Sabatini declared. "One moment." + +He touched the bell for his servant, who entered almost immediately. + +"You will take a cab to 17, Grosvenor Square, Pietro," he directed. +"Present my compliments to the lady of the house, and tell her that +an occurrence of the deepest importance deprives me of the honor of +dining to-night." + +"Very good, your Excellency." + +Sabatini turned to Arnold. + +"Come," he said simply, "my automobile is waiting. Will you direct +the man?" + +They started off citywards. Sabatini, for a time, sat like a man in +a dream, and Arnold, respecting his companion's mood, kept silent. +There seemed to be something unreal about their progress. To Arnold, +with this man by his side, the amazing story which he had gathered +from those ill-written pages, with their abrupt words and brutal +cynicism, still ringing in his brain, their errand seemed like some +phantasmal thing. The familiar streets bore a different aspect; the +faces of the people whom they passed struck him always with a +curious note of unreality. Ruth was Sabatini's daughter! His brain +refused to grasp so amazing a fact. Yet curiously enough, as he +leaned back among the cushions, the likeness was there. The turn of +the lips, the high forehead, the flawless delicacy of her oval face, +in the light of this new knowledge were all startlingly reminiscent +of the man who sat by his side now in a grim, unbroken silence. The +wonder of it all remained unabated, but his sense of apprehension +grew. + +Presently Sabatini began to talk, rousing himself as though with an +effort, and asking questions concerning Ruth, about her accident, +her tastes. He heard of the days of her poverty with a little +shiver. Arnold touched lightly upon these, realizing how much his +companion was suffering. Their progress grew slower and slower as +they passed into the heart of this strange land, down the narrow yet +busy thoroughfare which seemed to be the main artery of the +neighborhood. Strange names were above the shop-windows, strange +articles were displayed behind them. Stalls were set out in the +streets. Men and women, driven by the sulphurous heat to seek air, +leaned half-dressed from the windows, or sat even upon the pavement +in front of their houses. More than once they were obliged to come +to a standstill owing to the throngs of loiterers. As they neared +the last corner, Arnold leaned out and his heart sank. In front he +could see the crowd kept back by a line of police. + +"We are too late!" he exclaimed. "They have found him! They must be +making the arrest even now!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +CLOSE TO TRAGEDY + + +The two men stood up in the automobile. Sabatini's face had +darkened. He leaned over and said something to the chauffeur. They +drove on through the press of people, who gave way sullenly. A +police inspector came to the side of the car. + +"This way is blocked for the present, sir," he said to Sabatini. "If +you want to get past, you had better take one of the turnings to the +left." + +"My destination is just here," Sabatini replied. "Tell me, what is +the cause of this disturbance?" + +"Some of our men have gone to make an arrest in the street there, +sir," the inspector replied, "and we are having some trouble." + +"Is it the man Isaac Lalonde whom you are after?" Sabatini asked. + +"That is so, sir," the inspector admitted. "A desperate scoundrel he +is, too. He's shot at and wounded all three of the policemen who +entered the house, and he lies crouching before the window, +threatening to shoot any one who passes up the street." + +"Who is in charge here?" Sabatini inquired. + +"Chief Inspector Raynham," the man replied, pointing to an officer +in plain uniform who was standing a few yards away. + +"Take me to him," Sabatini directed. "I may be of use in this +matter." + +The crowd opened to let them pass through. They were on the corner +of the pavement now, and the street to their right was empty. There +was a disposition on the part of the people to hug the wall and peer +only round the corner, for they were within easy range of the grimy +window opposite. + +"Mr. Inspector," Sabatini said, "I am Count Sabatini, a nobleman of +the country from which that man comes. I think, perhaps, that if you +will allow me to make the effort he will listen to me. I may be able +to save the loss of useful lives." + +The chief inspector saluted. + +"I shouldn't recommend you to go near him, sir," he declared. "They +say he's an out-and-out anarchist, the leader of one of the most +dangerous gangs in London. We've got the back of the house covered +and he can't escape, but he's shot three of our men who tried to get +at him. The chief of police is on his way down, and we are waiting +for instructions from him." + +Sabatini's lips parted in the faintest of smiles. One could well +have imagined that he would have devised some prompter means to have +secured this man if he had been in command. + +"You will not forbid my making the attempt, I trust?" he said, +courteously. "I do so at my own risk, of course." + +The inspector hesitated. Sabatini, with a sudden swing of his +powerful arm, made his way into the front rank. Arnold clutched at +him. + +"Don't go," he begged. "It isn't worth while. You hear, he has shot +three policemen already. You can't save him--you can't help him." + +Sabatini turned round with an air of gentle superiority. + +"My young friend," he said, "do you not understand that Isaac will +not be taken alive? There is a question I must ask him before he +dies." + +The inspector stepped forward--afterwards he said that it was for +the purpose of stopping Sabatini. He was too late, however. The +crowd thronging the end of the street, and the hundreds of people +who peered from the windows, had a moment of wonderful excitement. +One could almost hear the thrill which stirred from their throats. +Across the empty street, straight towards the window behind which +the doomed man lay, Sabatini walked, strangest of figures amidst +those sordid surroundings, in his evening clothes, thin black +overcoat, and glossy silk hat. Step by step he approached the door. +He was about three yards from the curbstone when the window behind +which Isaac was crouching was suddenly smashed, and Isaac leaned +out. The crowd, listening intently, could hear the crash of falling +glass upon the pavement. They had their view of Isaac, too--a wan, +ghostlike figure, with haggard cheeks and staring eyes, eyes which +blazed out from between the strands of black hair. + +"Stand where you are," he shouted, and the people who watched saw +the glitter of the setting sun upon the pistol in his hand. Sabatini +looked up. + +"Isaac Lalonde," he called out, "you know who I am?" + +"I know who you are," they heard him growl,--"Count Sabatini, +Marquis de Lossa, Chevalier de St. Jerome, Knight of the Holy Roman +Empire, aristocrat, blood-sucker of the people." + +Sabatini shrugged his shoulders slightly. + +"As to that," he answered firmly, "one may have opinions. My hand at +least is free from bloodshed. You are there with nothing but death +before you. I am here to ask a question." + +"Ask it, then," the man at the window muttered. "Can't you see that +the time is short?" + +"Is it true, this message which you sent me by that young man? Is it +my daughter, the child of Cécile, whom you have kept from me all +these years?" + +Isaac leaned further forward out of the window. Every one in the +crowd could see him now. There were a few who began to shout. Every +one save Sabatini himself seemed conscious of his danger. Sabatini, +heedless or unconscious of it, stood with one foot upon the +curbstone, his face upturned to the man with whom he was talking. + +"Ay, it is true!" Isaac shouted. "She is your daughter, child of the +wife whom you hid away, ashamed of her because she came from the +people and you were an aristocrat. She is your child, but you will +never see her!" + +Then those who watched had their fill of tragedy. They saw the puff +of smoke, the sharp, discordant report, the murderous face of the +man who leaned downward. They saw Sabatini throw up his hands to +heaven and fall, a crumpled heap, into the gutter. Isaac, with the +pistol to his own forehead, overbalanced himself in the act of +pulling the trigger, and came crashing down, a corpse, on to the +pavement. The crowd broke loose, but Arnold was the first to raise +Sabatini. A shadow of the old smile parted his whitening lips. He +opened his eyes. + +"It's a rotten death, boy," he whispered hoarsely; "a cur's bullet, +that. Look after her for me. I'd rather--I'd rather hear the drums +beating." + +Arnold gripped him by the shoulders. + +"Hold on to yourself, man!" he gasped. "There's a doctor +coming--he's here already. Hold on to yourself, for all our sakes! +We want you--Ruth will want you!" + +Sabatini smiled very faintly. He was barely conscious. + +"I'd rather have heard the drums," he muttered again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +MR. WEATHERLEY RETURNS + + +It was twenty minutes past nine on a Saturday morning when the +wonderful thing happened. Precisely at his accustomed hour, in his +accustomed suit of gray clothes, and with his silk hat a little on +the back of his head, Mr. Weatherley walked into his office, pausing +as usual to knock the ash from his cigar before he entered the +clerks' counting house. Twelve young men gazed at him in frank and +undiluted amazement. As though absolutely unconscious of anything +unusual, Mr. Weatherley grunted his "Good morning!" and passed on +into the private room. Arnold and Mr. Jarvis were busy sorting the +letters which had arrived by the morning's post. Mr. Weatherley +regarded them with an expression of mingled annoyance and surprise. + +"What the devil are you doing, opening the letters before I get +here?" he exclaimed. "I'm punctual, am I not? Twenty-two minutes +past nine to the tick. Get out of my chair, Jarvis!" + +Mr. Jarvis rose with a promptitude which was truly amazing, +considering that a second ago he had been sitting there as though +turned to stone. Mr. Weatherley was disposed to be irritable. + +"What on earth are you both staring at?" he asked. "Nothing wrong +with my appearance, is there? You get out into the warehouse, +Jarvis, and wait until you're sent for. Chetwode, go and sit down at +your desk. I'll be ready to dictate replies to these as soon as I've +glanced them through." + +Mr. Jarvis made a slow retreat towards the door. Every now and then +he turned and looked back over his shoulder. + +"You will allow me to say, sir," he faltered, "that I--that we all +are glad to see you back." + +"See me back?" Mr. Weatherley repeated, frowning heavily. "What the +devil do you mean, sir? Why, I was here till nearly six last +evening, straightening out the muddle you'd got Coswell's account +into." + +Mr. Jarvis withdrew precipitately, closing the door behind him. Mr. +Weatherley glanced across the room to where Arnold was standing. + +"I'm hanged if I can understand Jarvis lately," he said. "The fellow +seems off his head. See me back, indeed! Talks as though I'd been +away for a holiday." + +Arnold opened his lips and closed them again without speech. Mr. +Weatherley took up the letters and began to read them, at first in +silence. Presently he began to swear. + +"Anything wrong, sir?" Arnold asked. + +"Has every one taken leave of their senses?" Mr. Weatherley +demanded, in a startled tone. "These can't be this morning's +letters. They're all about affairs I know nothing of. They're +dated--yes, they're all dated July 1. I was here yesterday--I +remember signing the cheques--May 4, it was. What the--" + +He stopped short. The office boy had performed his duty. Opposite +to him stood the great calendar recording the date--July 2 stared +him in the face. Mr. Weatherley put his hand to his forehead. + +"Come here, Chetwode, quickly," he begged. + +Arnold hurried over towards his employer. Mr. Weatherley had lost +flesh and there were bags under his eyes. His appearance now was the +appearance of a man who has received some terrifying shock. His +hands clasped the sides of his chair. + +"I'm all right, Chetwode?" he gasped. "I haven't been ill or +anything? This isn't a nightmare? The office seems all changed. +You've moved the safe. The letters--I can't understand the letters! +Give me the Day Book, quick." + +Arnold passed it to him silently. Mr. Weatherley turned over the +pages rapidly. At May 4, he stopped. + +"Yes, yes! I remember this!" he exclaimed. "Twenty barrels of +apples, Spiers & Pond. Fifty hams to Coswell's. I remember this. But +what--" + +His finger went down the page. He turned over rapidly, page after +page. The entries went on. They stopped at June 30. He shrank back +in his chair. + +"Have I been ill, Chetwode?" he muttered. + +Arnold put his arm upon his employer's shoulder. + +"Not exactly ill, sir," he said, "but you haven't been here for some +time. You went home on May 4--we've none of us seen you since." + +There was a silence. Very slowly Mr. Weatherley began to shake his +head. He seemed suddenly aged. + +"Sit down, Chetwode--sit down quickly," he ordered, in a curious, +dry whisper. "You see, it was like this," he went on, leaning over +the table. "I heard a noise in the room and down I came. He was +hiding there behind a curtain, but I saw him. Before I could shout +out to the servants, he had me covered with his revolver. I suppose +I'm not much to look at in a black tie and dress coat, wrong thing +altogether, I know,--but Fenella was out so it didn't really matter. +Anyway, he took me for the butler. 'It isn't you I want,' he said, +'it's your mistress and the others.' I stared at him and backed +toward the door. 'If you move from where you are,' he went on, +dropping his voice a little, 'I shall shoot you! Go and stand over +in that corner, behind me. It's Mrs. Weatherley I want. Now listen. +There's a ten-pound note in my waistcoat pocket. I'll give it to you +to go and fetch her. Tell her that an old friend has called and is +waiting to see her. You understand? If you go and don't bring her +back--if you give the alarm--you'll wake up one night and find me by +your bedside, and you'll be sorry.' You see, I remember every word +he said, Chetwode--every word." + +"Go on, please!" Arnold exclaimed, breathlessly. + +Mr. Weatherley nodded slowly. + +"Yes," he said, "I shall tell you all about it. I remember every +word that was spoken; I can see the man at this moment. I didn't +move from where I was, but I was a little annoyed at being taken for +Groves, and I told him so. 'If you're a burglar,' I said, 'you've +found your way into trouble. I'm the master of the house and Mrs. +Weatherley is my wife. Perhaps you'll tell me now what you want with +her?' He looked at me and I suppose he decided that I was telling +the truth. 'Your wife,' he said slowly, 'is looking for trouble. I'm +not sure that it hasn't come. You know she was a friend of +Rosario--Rosario the Jew?' 'I know that they were acquainted,' I +said. He laughed then, and I began to hate the fellow, Chetwode. +'It was your wife,' he said, 'for whom Rosario wanted that title. +She could have stopped him--' Then he broke off, Chetwode. 'But I +don't suppose you understand these things,' he said. 'You'd better +just understand this, though. I am here to have a little explanation +with Mrs. Weatherley. I have a message for her, and she's got to +hear it from my own lips. When I've finished with her, I want her +brother, and when I've finished with him, I want the young man who +was here the other night. It's no good saying he's not here now, +because I saw him start.'" + +Mr. Weatherley paused and felt his forehead. + +"All the time, Chetwode," he went on, "I was watching the fellow, +and it began to dawn upon me that he was there to do her some +mischief. I didn't understand what it was all about but I could see +it in his face. He was an ill-looking ruffian. I remembered then +that Fenella had been frightened by some one hanging about the +house, more than once. Well, there he was opposite to me, Chetwode, +and by degrees I'd been moving a little nearer to him. He was after +mischief--I was sure of it. What should you have done, Chetwode?" + +"I am not quite sure," Arnold answered. "What did you do?" + +"We're coming to that," Mr. Weatherley declared, leaning a little +forward. "We're coming to that. Now in that open case, close to +where I was, my wife had some South American curios. There was a +funny wooden club there. The end was quite as heavy as any lead. I +caught hold of it and rushed in upon him. You see, Chetwode, I was +quite sure that he meant mischief. If Fenella had come in, he might +have hurt her." + +"Exactly," Arnold agreed. "Go on, sir." + +"Well, I gripped the club in my right hand," Mr. Weatherley +explained, seizing a ruler from the table, "like this, and I ran in +upon him. I took him rather by surprise--he hadn't expected anything +of the sort. He had one shot at me and missed. I felt the bullet go +scorching past my cheek--like this." + +Mr. Weatherley struck the side of his face sharply with the flat of +his hand. + +"He had another go at me but it was too late,--I was there upon him. +He held out his arm but I was too quick. I didn't seem to hit very +hard the first time but the club was heavy. His foot slipped on the +marble hearthstone and he went. He fell with a thud. Have you ever +killed a man, Chetwode?" + +"Never, sir," Arnold answered, his voice shaking a little. + +"Well, I never had before," Mr. Weatherley went on. "It really seems +quite amazing that that one blow right on the head should have done +it. He lay there quite still afterwards and it made me sick to look +at him. All the time, though, I kept on telling myself that if I had +not been there he would have hurt Fenella. That kept me quite cool. +Afterwards, I put the club carefully back in the case, pushed him a +little under the sofa, and then I stopped to think for a moment. I +was quite clever, Chetwode. The window was open through which the +man had come, so I locked the door on the inside, stepped out of the +window, came in at the front door with my latchkey, crept upstairs, +undressed quickly and got into bed. The funny part of it all was, +Chetwode," he concluded, "that nobody ever really found the body." + +"You don't suppose that you could have dreamed it all, do you?" +Arnold asked. + +Mr. Weatherley laughed contemptuously. + +"What an absurd idea!" he exclaimed. "What a perfectly absurd idea! +Besides, although it did disappear, they came up and told me that +there was a man lying in the boudoir. You understand now how it all +happened," he went on. "It seemed to me quite natural at the time. +Still, when the morning came I realized that I had killed a man. +It's a horrid thing to kill a man, Chetwode!" + +"Of course it is, sir," Arnold said, sympathetically. "Still, I +don't see what else you could have done." + +Mr. Weatherley beamed. + +"I am glad to hear you say that, Chetwode," he declared, "very glad. +Still, I didn't want to go to prison, you know, so a few days +afterwards I went away. I meant to hide for quite a long time. I--I +don't know what I'm doing back here." + +He looked around the office like a trapped animal. + +"I didn't mean to come back yet, Chetwode!" he exclaimed. "Don't +leave me! Do you hear? Don't leave me!" + +"Only for one second, sir," Arnold replied, taking an invoice from +the desk. "They are wanting this in the warehouse." + +Arnold stepped rapidly across to Mr. Jarvis's desk. + +"Telephone home for his wife to come and bring a doctor," he +ordered. "Quick!" + +"He's out of his mind!" Jarvis gasped. + +"Stark mad," Arnold agreed. + +When he re-entered the office, Mr. Weatherley was sitting muttering +to himself. Arnold came over and sat opposite to him. + +"Mrs. Weatherley is calling round presently, sir," he announced. +"You'll be glad to see her again." + +Mr. Weatherley went deadly pale. + +"Does she know?" he moaned. + +"She knows that some one was hurt," Arnold said. "As a matter of +fact," he continued, "I don't think the man could have been dead. We +were all out of the room for about five minutes, and when we came +back he was gone. I think that he must have got up and walked away." + +"You don't think that I murdered him, then?" Mr. Weatherley +inquired, anxiously. + +"Not you," Arnold assured him. "You stopped his hurting Mrs. +Weatherley, though." + +Mr. Weatherley sighed. + +"I should like to have killed him," he admitted, simply. "Fenella +and Sabatini, too, her brother,--they both laugh at me. They're a +little inclined to be romantic and they think I'm a queer sort of a +stick. I could never make out why she married me," he went on, +confidentially. "Of course, they were both stoneybroke at the time +and I put up a decent bit of money, but it isn't money, after all, +that buys a woman like Fenella." + +"I'm sure she will be very pleased to see you again, sir," Arnold +said. + +"Do you think she will, Chetwode? Do you think she will?" Mr. +Weatherley demanded, anxiously. "Has she missed me while I have +been--where the devil have I been, Chetwode? You must tell me--tell +me quick! She'll be here directly and she'll want to know. I can't +remember. It was a long street and there was a public-house at the +corner, and I had a job somewhere, hadn't I, stacking cheeses? Look +here, Chetwode, you must tell me all about it. You're my private +secretary. You ought to know everything of that sort." + +"I'll make it all right with Mrs. Weatherley," Arnold promised. "We +can't go into all these matters now." + +"Of course not--of course not," Mr. Weatherley agreed. "You're quite +right, Chetwode. A time for everything, eh? How's the little lady +you brought down to Bourne End?" + +"She's very well, thank you, sir," Arnold replied. + +"Now it's a queer thing," Mr. Weatherley continued, "but only +yesterday--or was it the day before--I was trying to think whom she +reminded me of. It couldn't have been my brother-in-law, could it, +Chetwode. Did you ever fancy that she was like Sabatini?" + +"I had noticed it, sir," Arnold admitted, with a little start. +"There is a likeness." + +"I'm glad you agree with me," Mr. Weatherley declared, approvingly. +"Splendid fellow, Sabatini," he continued,--"full of race to his +finger-tips. Brave as a lion, too, but unscrupulous. He'd wring a +man's neck who refused to do what he told him. Yet do you know, +Chetwode, he wouldn't take money from me? He was desperately hard up +one day, I know, and I offered him a cheque, but he only shook his +head. 'You can look after Fenella,' he said. 'That's all you've got +to do. One in the family is enough.' The night after, he played +baccarat with Rosario and he won two thousand pounds. Clever +fellow--Sabatini. I wish I wasn't so frightened of him. You know the +sort of feeling he gives me, Chetwode?" Mr. Weatherley continued. +"He always makes me feel that I'm wearing the wrong clothes or doing +the wrong thing. I'm never really at my ease when he's about. But I +like him--I like him very much indeed." + +Arnold had turned a little away. He was beginning to feel the strain +of the situation. + +"I wish Fenella would come," Mr. Weatherley wandered on. "I don't +seem to be able to get on with my work this morning, since you told +me she was coming down. Queer thing, although I was with her last +evening, you know, Chetwode, I feel, somehow, as though I'd been +away from her for weeks and weeks. I can't remember exactly how +long--there's such a buzzing in my head when I try. What do you do +when you have a buzzing in your head, Chetwode?" + +"I generally try and rest in an easy-chair," Arnold replied. + +"I'll try that, too," Mr. Weatherley decided, rising to his feet. +"It's a--most extraordinary thing, Chetwode, but my knees are +shaking. Hold me up--catch hold of me, quick!" + +Arnold half carried him to the easy-chair. The horn of the +automobile sounded outside. + +"Mrs. Weatherley is here, sir," Arnold whispered. + +Mr. Weatherley opened his eyes. + +"Good!" he murmured. "Let me sit up." + +There was a moment's pause. Arnold moved to the door and held it +open. They heard the swish of her skirts as she came through the +outer office, and the heavier footsteps of the doctor who followed. +Mr. Weatherley tried vainly to rise to his feet. He held out his +arms. Fenella hastened towards him. + +"Fenella, I couldn't help it," her husband gasped. "I had to kill +him--he told me he was waiting there for you. My hands are quite +clean now. Chetwode told me that he got up and walked away, but +that's all nonsense. I struck him right over the skull." + +She fell on her knees by his side. + +"You dear, brave man," she murmured. "I believe you saved my life." + +He smiled. His face was suddenly childlike. He was filled with an +infinite content. + +"I think," he said, "that I should like--to go home now--if this +other gentleman and Chetwode will kindly help me out. You see, I +haven't been here since May 4, and to-day is July 2. I think I must +have overslept myself. And that idiot Jarvis was opening the letters +when I arrived! Yes, I'm quite ready." + +They helped him out to the carriage. He stepped in and took his +usual place without speaking again. The car drove off, Fenella +holding his hand, the doctor sitting opposite. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +COUNTERCLAIMS + + +There was nothing about their attitude or appearance which indicated +the change. Their chairs were so close together that they almost +touched. Her white, ringless hand lay in his. Through the wide-open +window of their tiny sitting-room they looked down upon the river as +they had sat and watched it so many evenings before. Yet the change +was unmistakable. Arnold no longer guessed at it--he felt it. The +old days of their pleasant comradeship had gone. There were reserves +in everything she said. Sometimes she shrank from him almost as +though he were a stranger. The eyes that grew bright and still +danced with pleasure at his coming, were almost, a moment later, +filled with apprehension as she watched him. + +"Tell me again," he begged, "what the doctor really said! It sounds +too good to be true." + +"So I thought," she agreed, "but I haven't exaggerated a thing. He +assured me that there was no risk, no pain, and that the cure was +certain. I am to go to the hospital in three weeks' time." + +"You don't mind it?" + +"Why should I?" she answered. "The last time," she continued, "it +was in France. I remember the white stone corridors, the white room, +and the surgeons all dressed in white. Do you know, they say that I +shall be out again in a fortnight." + +He nodded. + +"I can see you already," he declared, "with a gold-headed stick and +a fascinating limp like Marguerite de Vallières." + +She smiled very faintly but said nothing. Somehow, it was hard to +make conversation. Ruth was unusually pale, even for her. The eyes +which followed that line of yellow lights were full of trouble. + +"Tell me," he begged presently, "you have something on your mind, I +am sure. There is nothing you are keeping from me?" + +"Have I not enough," she asked, "to make me anxious?" + +"Naturally," he admitted, "and yet, after all, you have only seen +your father once in your life." + +"But I am sure that I could have loved him so much," she murmured. +"He seems to have come and gone in a dream." + +"This morning's report was more hopeful," he reminded her. "There is +every chance that he may live." + +"All the time," she answered, fervently, "I am praying that he may. +If he treated my mother badly, I am sure that he has suffered. I +can't quite forget, either," she went on, "although that seems +selfish, that when I come out of the hospital, even if all goes +well, I may still be homeless." + +He leaned over her. + +"Ruth," he exclaimed, "what do you mean?" + +"You know," she answered, simply. "You must know." + +His heart began to beat more quickly. He turned his head but she was +looking away. He could see only the curve of her long eyelashes. It +seemed to him strange then that he had never noticed the likeness to +Sabatini before. Her mouth, her forehead, the carriage of her head, +were all his. He leaned towards her. There was something stirring in +his heart then, something throbbing there, which seemed to bring +with it a cloud of new and bewildering emotions. The whole world was +slipping away. Something strange had come into the room. + +"Ruth," he whispered, "will you look at me for a moment?" + +She kept her head turned away. + +"Don't!" she pleaded. "Don't talk to me just now. I can't bear it, +Arnold." + +"But I have something to say to you," he persisted. "I have +something new, something I must say, something that has just come to +me. You must listen, Ruth." + +She held out her hand feverishly. + +"Please, Arnold," she begged, "I don't want to hear--anything. I +know how kind you are and how generous. Just now--I think it is the +heat--be still, please. I can't bear anything." + +Her fingers clutched his and yet kept him away. Every moment he was +more confident of this thing which had come to him. A strange +longing was filling his heart. The old days when he had kissed her +carelessly upon the forehead seemed far enough away. Then, in that +brief period of silence which seemed to him too wonderful to break, +there came a little tap at the door. They both turned their heads. + +"Come in," Arnold invited. + +There was a moment's hesitation. Then the door was opened. Fenella +entered. Arnold sprang to his feet. + +"Mrs. Weatherley!" he exclaimed. + +She smiled at him with all her old insolent grace. + +"Since when?" she demanded. "Fenella, if you please." + +She was more simply dressed than usual, in a thin, black gown and +black picture hat, and there were shadows under her eyes. No one +could look at her and fail to know that she was suffering. She came +across to Ruth. + +"My brother is the dearest thing in life to me," she said. "He is +all that I have left to me belonging to my own world. All these days +I have spent at his bedside, except when they have sent me away. +This evening I have come to see you. You are his child, Ruth." + +Ruth turned her head slowly. + +"Yes," she murmured, half fearfully. + +"When Arnold brought you to Bourne End," Fenella continued, "for one +moment I looked at you and I wondered. You seemed, even then, to +remind me of some one who had existed in the past. I know now who it +was. You have something of Andrea's air, but you are very like your +mother, Ruth." + +"You knew her?" Ruth asked. + +"Very slightly," Fenella replied. "She was a very clever actress and +I saw her sometimes upon the stage. Sometimes I think that Andrea +did not treat her well, but that was the way of his world. Assuredly +he never treated her badly, or you and I would not be here together +now." + +"I am afraid that you are sorry," Ruth said, timidly. + +Fenella laid her hand almost caressingly upon the girl's shoulder. + +"You need fear nothing of the sort," she assured her. "Why should I +be sorry? You are something that will remind me of him, something I +shall always be glad to have near me. You can guess why I have +come?" + +Ruth made no answer for a moment. Fenella laughed, a little +imperiously. + +"You poor child!" she exclaimed. "You cannot think that since I know +the truth I could leave you here for a single second? We can fetch +your clothes any time. To-night you are coming home with me." + +Ruth gazed at her with straining face. + +"Home?" she murmured. + +"But naturally," Fenella replied. "You are my brother's child and I +am a lonely woman. Do you think that I could leave you here for a +single second? Arnold has some claims, I know," she continued. "He +can come and see you sometimes. Do not be afraid," she went on, her +voice suddenly softening. "I shall try to be kind to you. I have +been a very selfish person all my life. I think it will be good for +me to have some one to care for. Arnold, please to go and ring for +the lift. Now that I have two invalids to think about, I must not be +away for long." + +He looked at Ruth for a moment. Then he obeyed her. When he +returned, Ruth was standing up, leaning upon Fenella's arm. She held +out her other hand to Arnold. + +"You will help me down, please?" she begged. + +It was a day of new emotions for Arnold. He was conscious suddenly +of a fierce wave of jealousy, of despair. She was going, and +notwithstanding the half pathetic, half appealing smile with which +she held out her hands, she was happy to go! Fenella saw his +expression and laughed in his face. + +"Arnold looks at me as though I were a thief," she declared, +lightly, "and I have only come to claim my own. If you behave very +nicely, Arnold, you can come and see us just as often as you +please." + +It was all over in a few minutes. The automobile which had been +standing in the street below was gone. Arnold was alone upon the +sofa. The book which she had been reading, her handkerchief, a bowl +of flowers which she had arranged, an odd glove, were lying on the +table by his side. But Ruth had gone. The little room seemed cold +and empty. He gripped the window-sill, and, sitting where they had +sat together only a few minutes ago, he looked down at the curving +lights. The old dreams surged up into his brain. The treasure ship +had come indeed, the treasure ship for Ruth. Almost immediately the +egotism of the man rebuked itself. If, indeed, she were passing into +a new and happier life, should he not first, of every one, be +thankful?--first of every one because within that hour he had +learned the secret toward which he had been dimly struggling? + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +THE SHIPS COME IN + + +The accountant was preparing to take his leave. There had been an +informal little meeting held in the dingy private office of Messrs. +Samuel Weatherley & Company, at which he had presided. + +"I really feel," he said, as he drew on his gloves thoughtfully, +"that I must repeat my congratulations to you, Mr. Jarvis, and to +your young coadjutor here, Mr. Chetwode. The results which I have +had the pleasure of laying before you are quite excellent. In fact, +so far as I can remember, the firm has scarcely ever had a more +prosperous half year." + +"Very kind of you, I am sure," Mr. Jarvis declared, "and most +satisfactory to us. We've worked hard, of course, but that doesn't +amount to much, after all. When you've been in a business, as I have +in this one, for something like thirty-five years, the interest you +take in it is such that you can't help working. This I must say, +though," he went on, placing his hand on Arnold's shoulder, "Mr. +Chetwode is almost a newcomer here, and yet his energy has sometimes +astounded me. Most remarkable and most creditable! For the last two +months, Mr. Neville, he has scarcely slept in London for a single +night. He has been to Bristol and Cardiff and Liverpool--all over +the country, in fact--in the interests of the firm, with results +that have sometimes astonished us." + +The accountant nodded approvingly. He took up the balance sheet +which they had been perusing and placed it in its envelope. + +"I shall now," he said, "call upon Mr. Weatherley, and I am sure he +will be most gratified. I understand that our next meeting is to be +down here." + +Mr. Jarvis beamed. + +"Although I must say," he admitted, "that the responsibility has +been a great pleasure, still, we shall be heartily glad to see Mr. +Weatherley back again." + +"I am sure of it," the accountant assented. "I understand that he +has made a complete recovery." + +"Absolutely his own self again, sir," Mr. Jarvis declared, "and +looking better than ever." + +"Odd thing, though, that loss of memory," the accountant remarked. +"I was talking to the doctor about it only the other day. He seems +to have wandered away into some sort of hiding, under the impression +that he had committed a crime, and now that he is getting better he +has absolutely forgotten all about it. He just thinks that he has +had an ordinary illness and has had to stay away from business for a +time." + +"Queer thing altogether, sir," Mr. Jarvis admitted; "a queer +business, sir. However, it's over and done with, and the less said +about it, the better. We are both very much obliged to you, Mr. +Neville, for your kind offices, and I am only thankful that the +results have been so satisfactory." + +Mr. Jarvis conducted his visitor to the door and returned to Arnold +with beaming face. In anticipation of the accountant's visit he was +wearing a frock-coat, which was already a shade too small for him. +He carefully divested himself of this garment, put on his linen +office-coat and turned towards his companion. + +"Chetwode," he said, "I have a proposition to make. The firm shall +stand us a little dinner this evening, which we will take together. +We will go up to the west-end. You shall choose the proper place and +order everything--just the best you can think of. The firm shall +pay. Mr. Weatherley would be quite agreeable, I am sure." + +Arnold forced himself to accept the suggestion with some appearance +of pleasure. + +"Delighted!" he agreed. "We'll have to finish up the letters and go +through this mail first." + +"Just so," Mr. Jarvis replied. "After that, we'll shut up shop. This +is quite a red-letter day, Chetwode. I knew that we'd held our own, +but I must confess that I found those figures most exhilarating. Our +little bonus, too, will be worth having." + +Later on, they found their way to a restaurant in the Strand, where +Mr. Jarvis ate and drank perhaps better than he had ever done in his +life. The evening to him was one of unalloyed pleasure, and he was +genuinely disappointed when Arnold pleaded an engagement as an +excuse for not finishing up at a music-hall. About nine o'clock the +two men parted, Mr. Jarvis to spend the rest of the evening alone, +with a big cigar in his mouth and an unaccustomed feeling of levity +in his head. Arnold, after a moment's hesitation, walked slowly back +to his empty rooms. + +So this was success! Without a friend in the world, without +training or any practical knowledge of life, his feet were firmly +planted upon the ladder. He had stifled all sorts of nameless +ambitions. He had set his teeth and done what appeared to be his +duty. Now it seemed to him that he had come to a pause. He drew up +his sofa to the window of his sitting-room and looked downward. +Somehow or other, the depression against which he had struggled all +the evening seemed only intensified by what he saw below. An early +autumn had stripped bare the leaves from the scanty trees; the sky +was gray and starless. Even the lights along the river front seemed +to burn with a dull and uninspiring fire. He looked around him and +his depression became an almost overmastering sensation. He hated +the sight of his empty room, the phantom thoughts that would light +upon his shoulder, the sofa upon which he was sitting alone, the +memory of the things which he might have said to Ruth in the days +when the opportunity was his. For a moment he even thought of Mr. +Jarvis at the music-hall alone, the welcoming lights, the pleasant +warmth, the music, the cheerful throngs of people. Better anything, +he told himself, than this brooding! A sudden almost reckless +impulse called him back again into the streets, only to pass away +the same moment with the vision of Ruth's pale face by his side, her +eyes alternately gazing down the lighted way and seeking his, her +fingers grasping his hand. His head sank forward into his hands. He +was alone! + +He sat up suddenly with a start. The inner door of the room had +opened and was softly closed again. A familiar voice addressed him. + +"I find your habits, my young friend, somewhat erratic," Sabatini +remarked. "Your supply of common necessaries, too, seems limited. I +have been driven to explore, quite fruitlessly, the whole of your +little domain, in the vain search for a match." + +He pointed to the unlit cigarette between his fingers. Arnold, who +was a little dazed, rose and produced a box of matches. + +"But I don't understand how it is that you are here!" he exclaimed. +"I thought that you were at Brighton. And how did you get in?" + +Sabatini seated himself comfortably at the end of the sofa and +placed a cushion behind his head. + +"We came up from Brighton this afternoon," he explained, puffing +contentedly at his cigarette. "I am now pronounced convalescent. +Ruth, too, could throw away her stick any moment she wanted to, only +I fancy that she thinks its use becoming." + +"But," Arnold persisted, "I don't understand how you got in! You +know that I am glad to see you." + +"I got in with Ruth's key, of course," Sabatini replied. + +Arnold leaned against the back of the sofa. + +"I had forgotten," he said. "Of course, if I had known that you had +been coming, I would have been here. The accountant brought in the +result of our last six months' work this afternoon, and Mr. Jarvis +insisted upon a little celebration. We had dinner together." + +Sabatini nodded. + +"So you have been successful," he remarked, thoughtfully. "You kept +your feet along the narrow way and you have done well. I am glad. +Sit down here by my side." + +Arnold sat down on the end of the sofa. The curtain was pulled up as +far as it would go. Below them, the curving arc of lights stretched +away to the dim distance. Sabatini followed them with his eyes, for +a moment, as though he, too, found something inspiring in that +lighted way. Then he turned to Arnold with a queer little twinkle in +his eyes. + +"By the bye," he asked, "you haven't heard--Fenella hasn't told you +of the last turn in fortune's wheel?" + +"I have seen little of Mrs. Weatherley lately," Arnold murmured. + +Sabatini leaned back in his place. His hollow eyes were lit now with +laughter, his mouth twitched. The marks of his illness seemed almost +to pass. + +"It is delicious," he declared. "Listen. You remember that one day +when you dined with me I told you of my uncle the Cardinal?" + +"The uncle from whom you borrowed money?" Arnold remarked, dryly. + +"Precisely," Sabatini agreed; "I borrowed money from him! It was +only a trifle but I chose my own methods. Heavens, but it is droll!" + +Sabatini began to laugh softly. His whole face now was alight with +enjoyment. + +"Last month," he continued, "His Eminence died. He had fourteen +nephews, three brothers, two sisters, and no end of nieces. To whom +do you think he has left his entire fortune, my dear Arnold--three +hundred thousand pounds they say it is?" + +"To you!" Arnold gasped. + +"To me, indeed," Sabatini assented. "I did not even go to the +funeral. I read of his death in the newspapers and I shrugged my +shoulders. It was nothing to me. Yet those fourteen nephews were +left not so much as would buy their mourning clothes. This is the +chief sentence in the will,--'_To the only one of my relatives whose +method of seeking my favors has really appealed to me, I leave the +whole of my fortune, without partition or reserve._'--And then my +name. I was that one. Almost," Sabatini concluded, with a little +sigh, "I am sorry that he is dead. I should have liked once more to +have shaken him by the hand." + +Arnold was speechless. The realization of what it all meant was +beginning to dawn upon him. Sabatini was wealthy--Ruth was a great +heiress. Her treasure ship had come in, indeed--and his was passing +him by. + +"I am glad," he said slowly, "glad for your sake and for Ruth's." + +Sabatini nodded. + +"My shadowy means," he remarked, "have kept me in comfort. Perhaps, +even, they have been a trifle more than I have let people imagine. +Still, this is all very different. Ruth and I are going to wander +about the Riviera for a time. Afterwards, we are going to sail to +Sabatini and patch up my old castle. I have some tenants there who +certainly deserve a little consideration from me--old friends, who +would sooner live without a roof over their heads than seek a new +master. I shall grow vines again, my young friend, and make cheeses. +You shall come from the illustrious firm of Samuel Weatherley & +Company and be my most favored customer. But let me give you just a +word of advice while I am in the humor. Buy our cheeses, if you +will, but never touch our wine. Leave that for the peasants who make +it. Somehow or other, they thrive,--they even become, at times, +merry upon it,--but the Lord have mercy upon those others, not born +upon the island of Sabatini, who raise it to their lips!" + +"I will leave the wine alone," Arnold promised. "But shan't I be +able to say good-bye to Ruth?" + +Sabatini leaned towards him. His expression was once more grave, yet +there was the dawn of a smile upon his sensitive lips. + +"You can say to her what you will," he murmured, "for she is here. +She had a fancy to look at her old room. I was there with her when +you arrived. I have a fancy now to give an order to my chauffeur. _À +bientôt!_" + +Arnold rose slowly to his feet. His heart was beginning to beat +fiercely. He was looking across the room with straining eyes. It was +not possible that clothes and health could make so great a +difference as this! She was standing upon the threshold of her room. +She was coming now slowly towards him, leaning ever so slightly upon +her stick. Her cheeks were touched with pink, her eyes were lit with +so soft and wonderful a brilliance that they shone like stars. He +forgot her fashionable hat, the quiet elegance of her clothes. It +was Ruth who came towards him--Ruth, radiantly beautiful, +transformed--yet Ruth! He held out his arms and with a little sob +she glided into them. + +Side by side they took their accustomed places upon the horse-hair +sofa. Her head sank upon his shoulder, her hands clasped his, her +eyes were wet with tears. A siren blew from the river. A little tug, +with two barges lashed alongside, was coming valiantly along. The +dark coil of water seemed suddenly agleam with quivering lights. + +"Our ships," she whispered, "together, dear!" + +THE END + + + * * * * * + +E. Phillips Oppenheim's Novels + + +Mr. Oppenheim never fails to entertain us.--_Boston Transcript_. + +The author has acquired an admirable technique of the sort demanded +by the novel of intrigue and mystery.--_The Dial_, Chicago. + +Mr. Oppenheim is a past master of the art of constructing ingenious +plots and weaving them around attractive characters.--_London +Morning Post_. + +By all odds the most successful among the writers of that class of +fiction which, for want of a better term, may be called "mystery +stories."--_Ainslee's Magazine_. + +Readers of Mr. Oppenheim's novels may always count on a story of +absorbing interest, turning on a complicated plot, worked out with +dexterous craftsmanship.--_Literary Digest_, New York. + +We do not stop to inquire into the measure of his art, any more than +we inquire into that of Alexandre Dumas, we only realize that here +is a benefactor of tired men and women seeking relaxation.--_The +Independent_, New York. + + * * * * * + +Havoc + A brilliant and engrossing story of love, mystery, and international + intrigue. + +Peter Ruff and the Double Four + Deals with the exploits of a shrewd detective and a mysterious + secret society. + +The Moving Finger. + A mystifying story dealing with unexpected results of a wealthy + M.P.'s experiment with a poor young man. + +Berenice. + Oppenheim in a new vein--the story of the love of a novelist of high + ideals for an actress. + +The Lost Ambassador. + A straightforward mystery tale of Paris and London, in which a + rascally maître d'hotel plays an important part. + +A Daughter of the Marionis. + A melodramatic romance of Palermo and England, dealing with a + rejected Italian lover's attempted revenge. + +Mystery of Mr. Bernard Brown. + A murder-mystery story rich in sensational incidents. + +The Illustrious Prince. + A narrative of mystery and Japanese political intrigue. + +Jeanne of the Marshes. + Strange doings at an English house party are here set forth. + +The Governors. + A romance of the intrigues of American finance. + +The Missioner. + Strongly depicts the love of an earnest missioner and a worldly + heroine. + +The Long Arm of Mannister. + A distinctly different story that deals with a wronged man's + ingenious revenge. + +As a Man Lives. + Discloses the mystery surrounding the fair occupant of a yellow + house. + +The Avenger. + Unravels an intricate tangle of political intrigue and private + revenge. + +The Great Secret. + Unfolds a stupendous international conspiracy. + +A Lost Leader. + A realistic romance woven around a striking personality. + +A Maker of History. + "Explains" the Russian Baltic fleet's attack on the North Sea + fishing fleet. + +Enoch Strone: A Master of Men. + The story of a self-made man who made a foolish early marriage. + +The Malefactor. + An amazing story of a man who suffered imprisonment for a crime he + did not commit. + +The Traitors. + A capital romance of love, adventure and Russian intrigue. + +A Prince of Sinners. + An engrossing story of English social and political life. + +A Millionaire of Yesterday. + A gripping story of a wealthy West African miner. + +The Man and His Kingdom. + A dramatic tale of adventure in South America. + +Anna the Adventuress. + A surprising tale of a bold deception. + +Mysterious Mr. Sabin. + An ingenious story of a world-startling international intrigue. + +The Yellow Crayon. + Containing the exciting experiences of Mr. Sabin with a powerful + secret society. + +The Betrayal. + A thrilling story of treachery in high diplomatic circles. + +A Sleeping Memory. + A remarkable story of an unhappy girl who was deprived of her + memory. + +The Master Mummer. + The strange romance of beautiful Isobel de Sorrens. + + * * * * * + +Little, Brown & Co., _Publishers_, Boston + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIGHTED WAY*** + + +******* This file should be named 15893-8.txt or 15893-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/8/9/15893 + + + +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. 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Phillips Oppenheim</title> +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[*/ + <!-- + + body { margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%;} + + p { text-indent: 1.5em; + margin-top: .75em; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { text-align: center; } + + hr { width: 20%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both } + + hr.long {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; } + hr.full {width: 100%; } + + .blockquot {margin-left: 7%; margin-right: 7%; } + .bkdes {text-indent: 0; margin-left: 5%; + margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 1em;} + .center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0; } + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .noindent {text-indent: 0; } + .cap {text-indent: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 90%; + font-weight: bold; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 2em; } + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; font-size: 90%; } + center { padding: 0.8em; } + a:link {color: blue; text-decoration: none; } + link {color: blue; text-decoration: none; } + a:visited {color: blue; text-decoration: none; } + a:hover {color: red } + pre {font-size: 8pt;} +/*]]>*/ + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Lighted Way, by E. Phillips Oppenheim, +Illustrated by A. B. Wenzell</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Lighted Way</p> +<p>Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim</p> +<p>Release Date: May 24, 2005 [eBook #15893]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIGHTED WAY***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Janet Kegg<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (https://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<a name="image-0001"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/imgfront.jpg" width="302" height="450" +alt="Her head sank upon his shoulder, her hands clasped +his." /> +</center> + +<p class="cap">Her head sank upon his shoulder, her hands clasped his.<br /> +<span class="sc">Frontispiece</span> <i>See page</i> <a href="#Pg_354">354</a>. +</p> + + +<hr class="long" /> +<h1> + THE LIGHTED WAY +</h1> +<h5> +BY +</h5> + +<h2> +E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM +</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">author of "havoc," "peter ruff and the double-four,"<br /> +"the master mummer," etc.</span> +</p> +<br /> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">with illustrations by</span><br /> +<b>A. B. WENZELL</b> +</p> +<br /> + +<h5> +BOSTON<br /> +LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY<br /> +1912 +</h5> + +<hr class="long" /> + + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2HCH0001">I</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">An Invitation to Dinner</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0003">II</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Ruth</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_10">10</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0004">III</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Arnold Scents Mystery</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_19">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0005">IV</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">The Face at the Window</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_31">31</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0006">V</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">An Unusual Errand</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_42">42</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0007">VI</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">The Gleam of Steel</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_49">49</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0008">VII</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">"Rosario Is Dead!"</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_57">57</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0009">VIII</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">The Duties of a Secretary</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_62">62</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0010">IX</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">A Strained Conversation</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_70">70</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0011">X</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">An Unexpected Visitor</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_79">79</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0012">XI</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">An Interrupted Luncheon</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_88">88</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0013">XII</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Jarvis is Justly Disturbed</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_99">99</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0014">XIII</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Castles in Spain</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_115">115</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0015">XIV</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Sabatini's Doctrines</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_126">126</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0016">XV</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">The Red Signet Ring</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_137">137</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0017">XVI</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">An Adventure</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_146">146</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0018">XVII</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">The End of an Evening</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_155">155</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0019">XVIII</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Discussing the Mystery</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_168">168</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0020">XIX</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">In the Country</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_178">178</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0021">XX</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Woman's Wiles</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_186">186</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0022">XXI</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Arnold Speaks Out</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_197">197</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0023">XXII</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">The Refugee's Return</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_208">208</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0024">XXIII</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Trouble Brewing</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_217">217</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0025">XXIV</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Isaac At Bay</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_225">225</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0026">XXV</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Mr. Weatherley's Disappearance</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_239">239</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0027">XXVI</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Arnold Becomes Inquisitive</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_248">248</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0028">XXVII</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">The Letters in the Safe</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_257">257</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0029">XXVIII</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Talk of Treasure Ships</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_265">265</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0030">XXIX</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Count Sabatini Visits</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_277">277</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0031">XXX</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Some Questions Answered</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_288">288</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0032">XXXI</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">A Luncheon-Party</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_298">298</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0033">XXXII</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Isaac in Hiding</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_308">308</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0034">XXXIII</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Sabatini's Daughter</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_317">317</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0035">XXXIV</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Close to Tragedy</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_325">325</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0036">XXXV</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Mr. Weatherley Returns</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_330">330</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0037">XXXVI</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">Counterclaims</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_341">341</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='right'><a href="#2H_4_0038">XXXVII</a></td><td align='left'><span class="sc">The Ship Comes In</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Pg_347">347</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr /> + + + <h3>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="illustrations"> +<tr><td align='left'>Her head sank upon his shoulder, her hands clasped his </td><td align='right'><a href="#image-0001"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"I was waiting here for you," he explained</td><td align='right'><a href="#image-0002">39</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The eyes of every one were turned toward the wall</td><td align='right'><a href="#image-0003">97</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"For myself," he declared, "I remain"</td><td align='right'><a href="#image-0004">139</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"Where is this man?" he demanded</td><td align='right'><a href="#image-0005">152</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mrs. Weatherley and the cashier looked over his shoulder</td><td align='right'><a href="#image-0006">259</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + + +<a name="2H_4_0001"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 2em;"><br /><br /></div> + +<hr class="long" /> + +<h3> + THE LIGHTED WAY +</h3> +<hr class="long" /> + +<a name="2HCH0001"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 2em;"><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_1" id="Pg_1"></a>CHAPTER I +</h2> +<h3> + AN INVITATION TO DINNER +</h3> +<p> +Mr. Samuel Weatherley, sole proprietor of the firm of Samuel +Weatherley & Co., wholesale provision merchants, of Tooley Street, +London, paused suddenly on his way from his private office to the +street. There was something which until that second had entirely +slipped his memory. It was not his umbrella, for that, neatly tucked +up, was already under his arm. Nor was it the <i>Times</i>, for that, +together with the supplement, was sticking out of his overcoat +pocket, the shape of which it completely ruined. As a matter of +fact, it was more important than either of these—it was a +commission from his wife. +</p> +<p> +Very slowly he retraced his steps until he stood outside the +glass-enclosed cage where twelve of the hardest-worked clerks in +London bent over their ledgers and invoicing. With his forefinger—a +fat, pudgy forefinger—he tapped upon a pane of glass, and an +anxious errand boy bolted through the doorway. +</p> +<p> +"Tell Mr. Jarvis to step this way," his employer ordered. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis heard the message and came hurrying <a name="Pg_2" id="Pg_2"></a>out. He was an +undersized man, with somewhat prominent eyes concealed by +gold-rimmed spectacles. He was possessed of extraordinary talents +with regard to the details of the business, and was withal an expert +and careful financier. Hence his hold upon the confidence of his +employer. +</p> +<p> +The latter addressed him with a curious and altogether unusual +hesitation in his manner. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Jarvis," he began, "there is a matter—a little matter—upon +which I—er—wish to consult you." +</p> +<p> +"Those American invoices—" +</p> +<p> +"Nothing to do with business at all," Mr. Weatherley interrupted, +ruthlessly. "A little private matter." +</p> +<p> +"Indeed, sir?" Mr. Jarvis interjected. +</p> +<p> +"The fact is," Mr. Weatherley blundered on, with considerable +awkwardness, for he hated the whole affair, "my wife—Mrs. +Weatherley, you know—is giving a party this evening—having some +friends to dinner first, and then some other people coming to +bridge. We are a man short for dinner. Mrs. Weatherley told me to +get some one at the club—telephoned down here just an hour ago." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley paused. Mr. Jarvis did his best to grasp the +situation, but failed. All that he could do was to maintain his +attitude of intelligent interest. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know any one at the club," continued his employer, +irritably. "I feel like a fish out of water there, and that's the +truth, Mr. Jarvis. It's a good club. I got elected there—well, +never mind how—but it's one thing to be a member of a club, and +quite another to get to know the men there. You understand that, Mr. +Jarvis." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_3" id="Pg_3"></a>Mr. Jarvis, however, did not understand it. He could conceive of no +spot in the city of London, or its immediate neighborhood, where Mr. +Samuel Weatherley, head of the firm of Messrs. Weatherley & Co., +could find himself among his social superiors. He knew the capital +of the firm, and its status. He was ignorant of the other things +which counted—as ignorant as his master had been until he had paid +a business visit a few years ago, in search of certain edibles, to +an island in the Mediterranean Sea. He was to have returned in +triumph to Tooley Street and launched upon the provision-buying +world a new cheese of astounding quality and infinitesimal +price—instead of which he brought home a wife. +</p> +<p> +"Anything I can do, sir," began Mr. Jarvis, a little vaguely,— +</p> +<p> +"My idea was," Mr. Weatherley proceeded, "that one of my own young +men—there are twelve of them in there, aren't there?" he added, +jerking his head in the direction of the office—"might do. What do +you think?" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis nodded thoughtfully. +</p> +<p> +"It would be a great honor, sir," he declared, "a very great honor +indeed." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley did not contradict him. As a matter of fact, he was +of the same opinion. +</p> +<p> +"The question is which," he continued. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis began to understand why he had been consulted. His +fingers involuntarily straightened his tie. +</p> +<p> +"If I could be of any use personally, sir,—" +</p> +<p> +His employer shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"My wife would expect me to bring a single man, <a name="Pg_4" id="Pg_4"></a>Jarvis," he said, +"and besides, I don't suppose you play bridge." +</p> +<p> +"Cards are not much in my line," Mr. Jarvis admitted, "not having, +as a rule, the time to spare, but I can take a hand at loo, if +desired." +</p> +<p> +"My wife's friends all play bridge," Mr. Weatherley declared, a +little brusquely. "There's only one young man in the office, Jarvis, +who, from his appearance, struck me as being likely." +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Stephen Tidey, of course, sir," the confidential clerk agreed. +"Most suitable thing, sir, and I'm sure his father would accept it +as a high compliment. Mr. Stephen Tidey Senior, sir, as you may be +aware, is next on the list for the shrievalty. Shall I call him out, +sir?" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley looked through the glass and met the glance, +instantly lowered, of the young man in question. Mr. Stephen Tidey +Junior was short and stout, reflecting in his physique his +aldermanic father. His complexion was poor, however, his neck thick, +and he wore a necktie of red silk drawn through a diamond ring. +There was nothing in his appearance which grated particularly upon +Mr. Weatherley's sense of seemliness. Nevertheless, he shook his +head. He was beginning to recognize his wife's point of view, even +though it still seemed strange to him. +</p> +<p> +"I wasn't thinking of young Tidey at all," he declared, bluntly. "I +was thinking of that young fellow at the end of the desk there—chap +with a queer name—Chetwode, I think you call him." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis, human automaton though he was, permitted himself an +exclamation of surprise. +</p> +<p> +"Young Chetwode! Surely you're not in earnest, sir!" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_5" id="Pg_5"></a>"Why not?" Mr. Weatherley demanded. "There's nothing against him, +is there?" +</p> +<p> +"Nothing against him, precisely," Mr. Jarvis confessed, "but he's at +the lowest desk in the office, bar Smithers. His salary is only +twenty-eight shillings a week, and we know nothing whatever about +him except that his references were satisfactory. It isn't to be +supposed that he would feel at home in your house, sir. Now, with +Mr. Tidey, sir, it's quite different. They live in a very beautiful +house at Sydenham now—quite a small palace, in its way, I've been +told." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley was getting a little impatient. +</p> +<p> +"Send Chetwode out for a moment, anyway," he directed. "I'll speak +to him here." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis obeyed in silence. He entered the office and touched the +young man in question upon the shoulder. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Weatherley wishes to speak to you outside, Chetwode," he +announced. "Make haste, please." +</p> +<p> +Arnold Chetwode put down his pen and rose to his feet. There was +nothing flurried about his manner, nothing whatever to indicate on +his part any knowledge of the fact that this was the voice of Fate +beating upon his ear. He did not even show the ordinary interest of +a youthful employee summoned for the first time to an audience with +his chief. Standing for a moment by the side of the senior clerk in +the middle of the office, tall and straight, with deep brown hair, +excellent features, and the remnants of a healthy tan still visible +on his forehead and neck, he looked curiously out of place in this +unwholesome, gaslit building with its atmosphere of cheese and +bacon. He would have been noticeably good-looking upon the cricket +<a name="Pg_6" id="Pg_6"></a>field or in any gathering of people belonging to the other side of +life. Here he seemed almost a curiously incongruous figure. He +passed through the glass-paned door and stood respectfully before +his employer. Mr. Weatherley—it was absurd, but he scarcely knew +how to make his suggestion—fidgetted for a moment and coughed. The +young man, who, among many other quite unusual qualities, was +possessed of a considerable amount of tact, looked down upon his +employer with a little well-assumed anxiety. As a matter of fact, he +really was exceedingly anxious not to lose his place. +</p> +<p> +"I understood from Mr. Jarvis that you wished to speak to me, sir," +he remarked. "I hope that my work has given satisfaction? I know +that I am quite inexperienced but I don't think that I have made any +mistakes." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley was, to tell the truth, thankful for the opening. +</p> +<p> +"I have had no complaints, Chetwode," he admitted, struggling for +that note of condescension which he felt to be in order. "No +complaints at all. I was wondering if you—you happened to play +bridge?" +</p> +<p> +Once more this extraordinary young man showed himself to be +possessed of gifts quite unusual at his age. Not by the flicker of +an eyelid did he show the least surprise or amusement. +</p> +<p> +"Bridge, sir," he repeated. "Yes, I have played at—I have played +occasionally." +</p> +<p> +"My wife is giving a small dinner-party this evening," Mr. +Weatherley continued, moving his umbrella from one hand to the other +and speaking very rapidly, "bridge afterwards. We happen to be a man +short. I was to have called at the club to try and pick up <a name="Pg_7" id="Pg_7"></a>some +one—find I sha'n't have time—meeting at the Cannon Street Hotel to +attend. Would you—er—fill the vacant place? Save me the trouble of +looking about." +</p> +<p> +It was out at last and Mr. Weatherley felt unaccountably relieved. +He felt at the same time a certain measure of annoyance with his +junior clerk for his unaltered composure. +</p> +<p> +"I shall be very much pleased, sir," he answered, without +hesitation. "About eight, I suppose?" +</p> +<p> +Again Mr. Weatherley's relief was tempered with a certain amount of +annoyance. This young man's <i>savoir faire</i> was out of place. He +should have imagined a sort of high-tea supper at seven o'clock, and +been gently corrected by his courteous employer. As it was, Mr. +Weatherley felt dimly confident that this junior clerk of his was +more accustomed to eight o'clock dinners than he was himself. +</p> +<p> +"A quarter to, to-night," he replied. "People coming for bridge +afterwards, you see. I live up Hampstead way—Pelham Lodge—quite +close to the tube station." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley omitted the directions he had been about to give +respecting toilet, and turned away. His youthful employee's manners, +to the last, were all that could be desired. +</p> +<p> +"I am much obliged to you, sir," he said. "I will take care to be +punctual." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley grunted and walked out into the street. Here his +behavior was a little singular. He walked up toward London Bridge, +exchanging greetings with a good many acquaintances on the way. +Opposite the London & Westminster Bank he paused for <a name="Pg_8" id="Pg_8"></a>a moment and +looked searchingly around. Satisfied that he was unobserved, he +stepped quickly into a very handsome motor car which was drawn up +close to the curb, and with a sigh of relief sat as far back among +the cushions as possible and held the tube to his mouth. +</p> +<p> +"Get along home," he ordered, tersely. +</p> +<hr /> +<p> +Arnold Chetwode, after his interview with his employer, returned +unruffled to his place. Mr. Jarvis bustled in after him. He was +annoyed, but he wished to conceal the fact. Besides, he still had an +arrow in his quiver. He came and stood over his subordinate. +</p> +<p> +"Congratulate you, I'm sure, Chetwode," he said smoothly. "First +time any one except myself has been to the house since Mr. +Weatherley's marriage." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis had taken the letters there one morning when his employer +had been unwell, and had waited in the hall. He did not, however, +mention that fact. +</p> +<p> +"Indeed?" Chetwode murmured, with his eye upon his work. +</p> +<p> +"You understand, of course," Mr. Jarvis continued, "that it will be +an evening-dress affair. Mrs. Weatherley has the name of being very +particular." +</p> +<p> +He glanced covertly at the young man, who was already immersed in +his work. +</p> +<p> +"Evening dress," Chetwode remarked, with a becoming show of +interest. "Well, I dare say I can manage something. If I wear a +black coat and a white silk bow, and stick a red handkerchief in +underneath my waistcoat, I dare say I shall be all right. Mr. +Weatherley can't expect much from me in that way, can he?" +</p> +<p> +The senior clerk was secretly delighted. It was not <a name="Pg_9" id="Pg_9"></a>for him to +acquaint this young countryman with the necessities of London life. +He turned away and took up a bundle of letters. +</p> +<p> +"Can't say, I'm sure, what the governor expects," he replied, +falsely. "You'll have to do the best you can, I suppose. Better get +on with those invoices now." +</p> +<p> +Once more the office resounded to the hum of its varied labors. Mr. +Jarvis, dictating letters to a typist, smiled occasionally as he +pictured the arrival of this over-favored young man in the +drawing-room of Mrs. Weatherley, attired in the nondescript fashion +which his words had suggested. One or two of the clerks ventured +upon a chaffing remark. To all appearance, the person most absorbed +in his work was the young man who had been singled out for such +especial favor. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0003"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_10" id="Pg_10"></a>CHAPTER II +</h2> +<h3> + RUTH +</h3> +<p> +In the topmost chamber of the last of a row of somber gray stone +houses in Adam Street a girl with a thin but beautiful face and +large, expectant eyes sat close to the bare, uncurtained window, +from which it was possible to command a view of the street below. A +book which she had apparently been reading had fallen neglected onto +the floor. Steadfastly she watched the passers-by. Her delicate, +expressive features were more than once illuminated with joy, only +to be clouded, a moment later, with disappointment. The color came +and went in her cheeks, as though, indeed, she were more sensitive +than her years. Occasionally she glanced around at the clock. Time +dragged so slowly in that great bare room with its obvious touch of +poverty! +</p> +<p> +At last a tall figure came striding along the pavement below. This +time no mistake was possible. There was a fluttering handkerchief +from above, an answering wave of the hand. The girl drew a sigh of +inexpressible content, moved away from the window and faced the +door, with lifted head waiting for the sound of footsteps upon the +stairs. They arrived at last. The door was thrown open. Arnold +Chetwode came hastily across <a name="Pg_11" id="Pg_11"></a>the room and gripped the two hands +which were held out to him. Then he bent down and kissed her +forehead. +</p> +<p> +"Dear little Ruth!" he exclaimed. "I hope you were careful crossing +the landing?" +</p> +<p> +The girl leaned back in her chair. Her eyes were fixed anxiously +upon his face. She completely ignored his question. +</p> +<p> +"The news at once!" she insisted. "Tell me, Arnold!" +</p> +<p> +He was a little taken aback. +</p> +<p> +"How did you know that I had any?" +</p> +<p> +She smiled delightfully. +</p> +<p> +"Know, indeed! I knew it directly I saw you, I knew it every time +your foot touched the stairs. What is it, Arnold? The cheeses didn't +smell so bad to-day? Or you've had a rise? Quick! I must hear all +about it." +</p> +<p> +"You shall," Arnold replied. "It is a wonderful story. Listen. Have +you ever heard the fable of Dick Whittington?" +</p> +<p> +"Married his employer's daughter, of course. What's she like, +Arnold? Have you seen her? Did you save her life? When are you going +to see her again?" +</p> +<p> +Chetwode was already on his knees, dragging out an old trunk from +underneath the faded cupboard. Suddenly he paused with a gesture of +despair. +</p> +<p> +"Alas!" he exclaimed. "My dream fades away. Old Weatherley was +married only last year. Consequently, his daughter—" +</p> +<p> +"He can't have one," she interrupted, ruthlessly. "Tell me the news +at once?" +</p> +<p> +"I am going to dine with old Weatherley," he announced. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_12" id="Pg_12"></a>The girl smiled, a little wistfully. +</p> +<p> +"How funny! But you will get a good dinner, won't you, Arnold? Eat +ever so much, dear. Yesterday I fancied that you were getting thin. +I do wish I could see what you have in the middle of the day." +</p> +<p> +"Little mother!" he laughed. "To-day I gorged myself on poached +eggs. What did Isaac give you?" +</p> +<p> +"Mutton stew and heaps of it," the girl replied, quickly. "To-night +I shall have a bowl of milk as soon as you are gone. Have you +everything you ought to have to wear, Arnold?" +</p> +<p> +"Everything," he declared, rising to his feet with a sigh of relief. +"It's so long since I looked at my clothes that to tell you the +truth I was a little bit anxious. They may be old-fashioned, but +they came from a good man to start with." +</p> +<p> +"What made Mr. Weatherley ask you?" she demanded. +</p> +<p> +"Wanted one of his clerks to fill up and found that I played +bridge," Arnold answered. "It's rather a bore, isn't it? But, after +all, he is my employer." +</p> +<p> +"Of course you must go and behave your very nicest. Tell me, when +have you to start?" +</p> +<p> +"I ought to be changing in a quarter of an hour. What shall we do +till then?" +</p> +<p> +"Whatever you like," she murmured. +</p> +<p> +"I am coming to sit at the window with you," he said. "We'll look +down at the river and you shall tell me stories about the ships." +</p> +<p> +She laughed and took his hand as he dragged a chair over to her +side. He put his arm around her and her head fell naturally back +upon his shoulder. Her eyes sought his. He was leaning forward, +gazing down between<a name="Pg_13" id="Pg_13"></a> the curving line of lamp-posts, across the belt +of black river with its flecks of yellow light. But Ruth watched him +only. +</p> +<p> +"Arnie," she whispered in his ear, "there are no fairy ships upon +the river to-night." +</p> +<p> +He smiled. +</p> +<p> +"Why not, little one? You have only to close your eyes." +</p> +<p> +Slowly she shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"Don't think that I am foolish, dear," she begged. "To-night I +cannot look upon the river at all. I feel that there is something +new here—here in this room. The great things are here, Arnold. I +can feel life hammering and throbbing in the air. We aren't in a +garret any longer, dear. It's a fairy palace. Listen. Can't you hear +the people shout, and the music, and the fountains playing? Can't +you see the dusky walls fall back, the marble pillars, the lights in +the ceiling?" +</p> +<p> +He turned his head. He found himself, indeed, listening, found +himself almost disappointed to hear nothing but the far-off, eternal +roar of the city, and the melancholy grinding of a hurdy-gurdy +below. Always she carried him away by her intense earnestness, the +bewitching softness of her voice, even when it was galleons full of +treasure that she saw, with blood-red sails, coming up the river, +full of treasure for them. To-night her voice had more than its +share of inspiration, her fancies clung to her feverishly. +</p> +<p> +"Be careful, Arnold," she murmured. "To-night means a change. There +is something new coming. I can feel it coming in my heart." +</p> +<p> +Her face was drawn and pale. He laughed down into her eyes. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_14" id="Pg_14"></a>"Little lady," he reminded her, mockingly, "I am going to dine with +my cheesemonger employer." +</p> +<p> +She shook her head dreamily. She refused to be dragged down. +</p> +<p> +"There's something beating in the air," she continued. "It came into +the room with you. Don't you feel it? Can't you feel that you are +going to a tragedy? Life is going to be different, Arnold, to be +different always." +</p> +<p> +He drew himself up. A flicker of passion flamed in his own deep gray +eyes. +</p> +<p> +"Different, child? Of course it's going to be different. If there +weren't something else in front, do you think one could live? Do you +think one could be content to struggle through this miserable +quagmire if one didn't believe that there was something else on the +other side of the hill?" +</p> +<p> +She sighed, and her fingers touched his. +</p> +<p> +"I forgot," she said simply. "You see, there was a time when I +hadn't you. You lifted me out of my quagmire." +</p> +<p> +"Not high enough, dear," he answered, caressingly. "Some day I'll +take you over to Berlin or Vienna, or one of those wonderful places. +We'll leave Isaac to grub along and sow red fire in Hyde Park. We'll +find the doctors. We shall teach you to walk again without that +stick. No more gloominess, please." +</p> +<p> +She pressed his hand tightly. +</p> +<p> +"Dear Arnold!" she whispered softly. +</p> +<p> +"Turn around and watch the river with me, little one," he begged. +"See the lights on the barges, how slowly they move. What is there +behind that one, I wonder?" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_15" id="Pg_15"></a>Her eyes followed his finger without enthusiasm. +</p> +<p> +"I can't look out of the room to-night, Arnold," she said. "The +fancies won't come. Promise me one thing." +</p> +<p> +"I promise," he agreed. +</p> +<p> +"Tell me everything—don't keep anything back." +</p> +<p> +"On my honor," he declared, smiling. "I will bring the menu of the +dinner, if there is one, and a photograph of Mrs. Cheesemonger if I +can steal it. Now I am going to help you back into your room." +</p> +<p> +"Don't bother," she begged. "Open the door and I can get there quite +easily." +</p> +<p> +He set the door open and, crossing the bare stone landing, opened +the door of another room, similar to his. They were somber +apartments at the top of the deserted house, which had once been a +nobleman's residence. The doors were still heavy, though blistered +with time and lack of varnish. There were the remains of paneling +upon the wall and frescoes upon the ceiling. +</p> +<p> +"Come and see me before you go," she pleaded. "I am all alone. Isaac +has gone to a meeting somewhere." +</p> +<p> +He promised and returned to his own apartment. With the help of a +candle which he stuck upon the mantelpiece, and a cracked mirror, he +first of all shaved, then disappeared for a few minutes behind a +piece of faded curtain and washed vigorously. Afterwards he changed +his clothes, putting on a dress suit produced from the trunk. When +he had finished, he stepped back and laughed softly to himself. His +clothes were well cut. His studs, which had very many times been on +the point of visiting the pawnbroker's, were correct and good. He +was indeed an incongruous figure as he stood there and, with a +candle carefully held away <a name="Pg_16" id="Pg_16"></a>from him in his hand, looked at his own +reflection. For some reason or other, he was feeling elated. Ruth's +words had lingered in his brain. One could never tell which way +fortune might come! +</p> +<p> +He found her waiting in the darkness. Her long arms were wound for a +moment around his neck, a sudden passion shook her. +</p> +<p> +"Arnold—dear Arnold," she sobbed, "you are going into the +storm—and I want to go! I want to go, too! My hands are cold, and +my heart. Take me with you, dear!" +</p> +<p> +He was a little startled. It was not often that she was hysterical. +He looked down into her convulsed face. She choked for a moment, and +then, although it was not altogether a successful effort, she +laughed. +</p> +<p> +"Don't mind me," she begged. "I am a little mad to-night. I think +that the twilight here has got upon my nerves. Light the lamp, +please. Light the lamp and leave me alone for a moment while you do +it." +</p> +<p> +He obeyed, fetching some matches from his own room and setting the +lamp, when it was lit, on the table by her side. There were no tears +left in her eyes now. Her lips were tremulous, but an unusual spot +of color was burning in her cheeks. While he had been dressing, he +saw that she had tied a piece of deep blue ribbon, the color he +liked best, around her hair. +</p> +<p> +"See, I am myself now. Good night and good luck to you, Arnold! Eat +a good dinner, mind, and remember your promise." +</p> +<p> +"There is nothing more that I can do for you?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"Nothing," she replied. "Besides, I can hear Uncle Isaac coming." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_17" id="Pg_17"></a>The door was suddenly opened. A thin, undersized man in worn black +clothes, and with a somber hat of soft black felt still upon his +head, came into the room. His dark hair was tinged with gray, he +walked with a pronounced stoop. In his shabby clothes, fitting +loosely upon his diminutive body, he should have been an +insignificant figure, but somehow or other he was nothing of the +sort. His thin lips curved into a discontented droop. His cheeks +were hollow and his eyes shone with the brightness of the fanatic. +Arnold greeted him familiarly. +</p> +<p> +"Hullo, Isaac!" he exclaimed. "You are just in time to save Ruth +from being left all alone." +</p> +<p> +The newcomer came to a standstill. He looked the speaker over from +head to foot with an expression of growing disgust, and he spat upon +the floor. +</p> +<p> +"What livery's that?" he demanded. +</p> +<p> +Arnold laughed good-naturedly. +</p> +<p> +"Come, Isaac," he protested, "I don't often inflict it upon you, do +I? It's something that belongs to the world on the other side, you +know. We all of us have to look over the fence now and then. I have +to cross the borderland to-night for an hour or so." +</p> +<p> +Isaac threw open the door by which he had entered. +</p> +<p> +"Get out of here," he ordered. "If you were one of us, I'd call you +a traitor for wearing the rags. As it is, I say that no one is +welcomed under my roof who looks as you look now. Why, d—n it, I +believe you're a gentleman!" +</p> +<p> +Arnold laughed softly. +</p> +<p> +"My dear Isaac," he retorted, "I am as I was born and made. You +can't blame me for that, can you? Besides,—" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_18" id="Pg_18"></a>He broke off suddenly. A little murmur from the girl behind +reminded him of her presence. He passed on to the door. +</p> +<p> +"Good night, Isaac," he said. "Look after Ruth. She's lonely +to-night." +</p> +<p> +"I'll look after her," was the grim reply. "As for you, get you +gone. There was one of your sort came to the meeting of Jameson's +moulders this afternoon. He had a question to ask and I answered +him. He wanted to know wherein wealth was a sin, and I told him." +</p> +<p> +Arnold Chetwode was young and his sense of humor triumphant. He +turned on the threshold and looked into the shadowy room, dimly lit +with its cheap lamp. He kissed his hands to Ruth. +</p> +<p> +"My dear Isaac," he declared, lightly, "you are talking like an ass. +I have two shillings and a penny ha'penny in my pocket, which has to +last me till Saturday, and I earn my twenty-eight shillings a week +in old Weatherley's counting-house as honestly as you earn your wage +by thundering from Labor platforms and articles in the <i>Clarion</i>. My +clothes are part of the livery of civilization. The journalist who +reports a Lord Mayor's dinner has to wear them. Some day, when +you've got your seat in Parliament, you'll wear them yourself. Good +night!" +</p> +<p> +He paused before closing the door. Ruth's kiss came wafted to him +from the shadows where her great eyes were burning like stars. Her +uncle had turned his back upon him. The word he muttered sounded +like a malediction, but Arnold Chetwode went down the stone steps +blithely. It was an untrodden land, this, into which he was to pass. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0004"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_19" id="Pg_19"></a>CHAPTER III +</h2> +<h3> + ARNOLD SCENTS MYSTERY +</h3> +<p> +From the first, nothing about that evening was as Arnold had +expected. He took the tube to Hampstead station, and, the night +being dry, he walked to Pelham Lodge without detriment to his +carefully polished patent shoes. The neighborhood was entirely +strange to him and he was surprised to find that the house which was +pointed out to him by a policeman was situated in grounds of not +inconsiderable extent, and approached by a short drive. Directly he +rang the bell he was admitted not by a flamboyant parlormaid but by +a quiet, sad-faced butler in plain, dark livery, who might have been +major-domo to a duke. The house was even larger than he had +expected, and was handsomely furnished in an extremely subdued +style. It was dimly, almost insufficiently lit, and there was a +faint but not unpleasant odor in the drawing-room which reminded him +of incense. The room itself almost took his breath away. It was +entirely French. The hangings, carpet and upholstery were all of a +subdued rose color and white. Arnold, who was, for a young man, +exceedingly susceptible to impressions, looked around him with an +air almost of wonder. It was fortunate, perhaps, that the room was +empty. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_20" id="Pg_20"></a>"Mr. and Mrs. Weatherley will be downstairs in one moment, sir," +the man announced. "Mr. Weatherley was a little late home from the +city." +</p> +<p> +Arnold nodded and stood upon the hearthrug, looking around him. He +was quite content to spend a few moments alone, to admire the +drooping clusters of roses, the elegance with which every article of +furniture and appointment of the room seemed to fit into its place. +Somehow or other, too, nothing appeared new. Everything seemed +subdued by time into its proper tone. He began to wonder what sort +of woman the presiding genius over such perfection could be. Then, +with a quaint transition of thought, he remembered the little +counting-house in Tooley Street, the smell of cheeses, and Mr. +Weatherley's half-nervous invitation. His lips twitched and he began +to smile. These things seemed to belong to a world so far away. +</p> +<p> +Presently he heard footsteps outside and voices. The door was opened +but the person outside did not immediately enter. Apparently she had +turned round to listen to the man who was still some distance +behind. Arnold recognized his employer's voice. +</p> +<p> +"I am sorry that you are displeased, my dear Fenella, but I assure +you that I did the best I could. It is true that the young man is in +my office, but I am convinced that you will find him presentable." +</p> +<p> +A peal of the softest and most musical laughter that Arnold had +ever heard in his life effectually stopped Mr. Weatherley's +protestations. Yet, for all its softness and for all its music, +there was a different note underneath, something a little bitter, +unutterably scornful. +</p> +<p> +"My dear Samuel, it is true, without doubt, that you <a name="Pg_21" id="Pg_21"></a>did your best. +I do not blame you at all. It was I who was foolish to leave such a +matter in your hands. It was not likely that among your +acquaintances there was one whom I would have cared to welcome to my +house. But that you should have gone to your employees—that, +indeed, is funny! You do amuse me very much. Come." +</p> +<p> +The door was pushed fully open now and a woman entered, at the sight +of whom Arnold forgot all his feelings of mingled annoyance and +amusement. She was of little over the medium height, exceedingly +slim—a slimness which was accentuated by the fashion of the gown +she wore. Her face was absolutely devoid of color, but her features +were almost cameo-like in their sensitive perfection. Her eyes were +large and soft and brown, her hair a Titian red, worn low and +without ornament. Her dress was of pale blue satin, which somehow +had the effect of being made in a single piece, without seam or +joining. Her neck and throat, exquisitely white, were bare except +for a single necklace of pearls which reached almost to her knees. +The look in Arnold's face, as she came slowly into the room, was one +of frank and boyish admiration. The woman came towards him with a +soft smile about her lips, but she was evidently puzzled. It was Mr. +Weatherley who spoke. There was something almost triumphant in his +manner. +</p> +<p> +"This is Mr. Chetwode, dear, of whom I was speaking to you," he +said. "Glad to see you, Chetwode," he added, with ponderous +condescension. +</p> +<p> +The woman laughed softly as she held out her hand. +</p> +<p> +"Are you going to pretend that you were deaf, to forgive me and be +friends, Mr. Chetwode?" she asked, <a name="Pg_22" id="Pg_22"></a>looking up at him. "One foggy +day my husband took me to Tooley Street, and I did not believe that +anything good could come out of the yellow fog and the mud and the +smells. It was my ignorance. You heard, but you do not mind? I am +sure that you do not mind?" +</p> +<p> +"Not a bit in the world," Arnold answered, still holding the hand +which she seemed to have forgotten to draw away, and smiling down +into her upturned face. "I was awfully sorry to overhear but you see +I couldn't very well help it, could I?" +</p> +<p> +"Of course you could not help it," she replied. "I am so glad that +you came and I hope that we can make it pleasant for you. I will try +and send you in to dinner with some one very charming." +</p> +<p> +She laughed at him understandingly as his lips parted and closed +again without speech. Then she turned away to welcome some other +guests, who were at that moment announced. Arnold stood in the +background for a few minutes. Presently she came back to him. +</p> +<p> +"Do you know any one here?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"No one," he answered. +</p> +<p> +She dropped her voice almost to a whisper. Arnold bent his head and +listened with a curious pleasure to her little stream of words. +</p> +<p> +"It is a strange mixture of people whom you see here," she said, "a +mixture, perhaps, of the most prosaic and the most romantic. The +Count Sabatini, whom you see talking to my husband, is my brother. +He is a person who lives in the flood of adventures. He has taken +part in five wars, he has been tried more than once for political +offenses. He has been banished from what is really our native +country, Portugal, with a price set upon his head. He has an estate +upon which nothing <a name="Pg_23" id="Pg_23"></a>grows, and a castle with holes in the roof in +which no one could dwell. Yet he lives—oh, yes, he lives!" +</p> +<p> +Arnold looked across at the man of whom she was speaking—gaunt and +olive-skinned, with deep-set eyes and worn face. He had still some +share of his sister's good looks and he held himself as a man of his +race should. +</p> +<p> +"I think I should like your brother," Arnold declared. "Will he talk +about his campaigns?" +</p> +<p> +"Perhaps," she murmured, "although there is one about which you +would not care to hear. He fought with the Boers, but we will not +speak of that. Mr. and Mrs. Horsman there I shall say nothing about. +Imagine for yourself where they belong." +</p> +<p> +"They are your husband's friends," he decided, unhesitatingly. +</p> +<p> +"You are a young man of great perceptions," she replied. "I am going +to like you, I am sure. Come, there is Mr. Starling standing by the +door. What do you think of him?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold glanced across the room. Mr. Starling was apparently a +middle-aged man—clean-shaven, with pale cheeks and somewhat narrow +eyes. +</p> +<p> +"An American, without a doubt," Arnold remarked. +</p> +<p> +"Quite right. Now the lady in the gray satin with the wonderful +coiffure—she has looked at you already more than once. Her name is +Lady Blennington, and she is always trying to discover new young +men." +</p> +<p> +Arnold glanced at her deliberately and back again at his hostess. +</p> +<p> +"There is nothing for me to say about her," he declared. +</p> +<p> +"You are wonderful," she murmured. "That is so <a name="Pg_24" id="Pg_24"></a>exactly what one +feels about Lady Blennington. Then there is Lady Templeton—that +fluffy little thing behind my husband. She looks rather as though +she had come out of a toy shop, does she not?" +</p> +<p> +"She looks nice," Arnold admitted. "I knew—" +</p> +<p> +She glanced up at him and waited. Arnold, however, had stopped +short. +</p> +<p> +"You have not yet told me," he said, "the name of the man who stands +alone near the door—the one with the little piece of red ribbon in +his coat?" +</p> +<p> +It seemed to him that, for some reason, the presence of that +particular person affected her. He was a plump little man, sleek and +well-dressed, with black hair, very large pearl studs, black +moustache and imperial. Mrs. Weatherley stood quite still for a +moment. Perhaps, he thought, she was listening to the conversation +around them. +</p> +<p> +"The man's name is Rosario," she replied. "He is a financier and a +man of fashion. Another time you must tell me what you think of him, +but I warn you that it will not be so easy as with those others, for +he is also a man of schemes. I am sorry, but I must send you in now +with Mrs. Horsman, who is much too amiable to be anything else but +dull. You shall come with me and I will introduce you." +</p> +<p> +Dinner was announced almost at that moment. Arnold, keen to enjoy, +with all the love of new places and the enthusiasm of youth in his +veins, found every moment of the meal delightful. They took their +places at a round table with shaded lights artistically arranged, so +that they seemed to be seated before a little oasis of flowers and +perfumes in the midst of a land of shadows. He found his companion +pleasant and sympathetic.<a name="Pg_25" id="Pg_25"></a> She had a son about his age who was going +soon into the city and about whom she talked incessantly. On his +left, Lady Blennington made frank attempts to engage him in +conversation whenever an opportunity arose. Arnold felt his spirits +rise with every moment. He laughed and talked the whole of the time, +devoting himself with very little intermission to one or the other +of his two neighbors. Mr. Weatherley, who was exceedingly +uncomfortable and found it difficult even to remember his few staple +openings, looked across the table more than once in absolute wonder +that this young man who, earning a wage of twenty-eight shillings a +week, and occupying almost the bottom stool in his office, could yet +be entirely and completely at his ease in this exalted company. More +than once Arnold caught his hostess's eye, and each time he felt, +for some unknown reason, a little thrill of pleasure at the faint +relaxing of her lips, the glance of sympathy which shone across the +roses. Life was a good place, he thought to himself, for these few +hours, at any rate. And then, as he leaned back in his place for a +moment, Ruth's words seemed suddenly traced with a finger of fire +upon the dim wall. To-night was to be a night of mysteries. To-night +the great adventure was to be born. He glanced around the table. +There was, indeed, an air of mystery about some of these guests, +something curiously aloof, something which it was impossible to put +into words. The man Starling, for instance, seemed queerly placed +here. Count Sabatini was another of the guests who seemed somehow to +be outside the little circle. For minutes together he sat sometimes +in grim silence. About him, too, there was always a curious air of +detachment. Rosario was <a name="Pg_26" id="Pg_26"></a>making the small conversation with his +neighbor which the occasion seemed to demand, but he, too, appeared +to talk as one who had more weighty matters troubling his brain. It +was a fancy of Arnold's, perhaps, but it was a fancy of which he +could not rid himself. He glanced towards his employer and a curious +feeling of sympathy stirred him. The man was unhappy and ill at +ease. He had lost his air of slight pomposity, the air with which he +entered his offices in the morning, strutted about the warehouse, +went out to lunch with a customer, and which he somehow seemed to +lose as the time came for returning to his home. Once or twice he +glanced towards his wife, half nervously, half admiringly. Once she +nodded back to him, but it was the nod of one who gathers up her +skirts as she throws alms to a beggar. Then Arnold realized that his +little fit of thoughtfulness had made a material difference to the +hum of conversation. He remembered his duty and leaned over toward +Lady Blennington. +</p> +<p> +"You promised to tell me more about some of these people," he +reminded her. "I am driven to make guesses all the time. Why does +Mr. Starling look so much like an unwilling and impatient guest? And +where is the castle of the Count Sabatini which has no roof?" +</p> +<p> +Lady Blennington sighed. +</p> +<p> +"This table is much too small for us to indulge in scandal," she +replied. "It really is such a pity. One so seldom meets any one +worth talking to who doesn't know everything there is that shouldn't +be known about everybody. About Count Sabatini, for instance, I +could tell you some most amusing things." +</p> +<p> +"His castle, perhaps, is in the air?" Arnold inquired. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_27" id="Pg_27"></a>"By no means," Lady Blennington assured him. +</p> +<p> +"On the contrary, it is very much upon the rocks. Some little island +near Minorca, I believe. They say that Mr. Weatherley was wrecked +there and Sabatini locked him up in a dungeon and refused to let him +go until he promised to marry his sister." +</p> +<p> +"There are a good many men in the world, I should think," Arnold +murmured, "who would like to be locked up on similar conditions." +</p> +<p> +She looked at him with a queer little smile. +</p> +<p> +"I suppose it is inevitable," she declared. "You will have to go +through it, too. She certainly is one of the loveliest women I ever +saw. I suppose you are already convinced that she is entirely +adorable?" +</p> +<p> +"She has been very kind to me," Arnold replied. +</p> +<p> +"She would be," Lady Blennington remarked, dryly. "Look at her +husband. The poor man ought to have known better than to have +married her, of course, but do you think that he looks even +reasonably happy?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable. He was conscious +of a strong desire not to discuss his hostess. Yet his curiosity was +immense. He asked one question. +</p> +<p> +"Tell me," he said, "if she came from this little island in the +Mediterranean, why does she speak English so perfectly?" +</p> +<p> +"She was educated in England," Lady Blennington told him. +"Afterwards, her brother took her to South America. She had some +small fortune, I believe, but when she came back they were +penniless. They were really living as small market gardeners when +Mr. Weatherley found them." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_28" id="Pg_28"></a>"You don't like her," he remarked. "I wonder why?" +</p> +<p> +Lady Blennington shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"One never knows," she replied. "I admire her, if that is anything." +</p> +<p> +"But you do not like her," he persisted. +</p> +<p> +She shrugged her shoulders slightly. +</p> +<p> +"I am afraid it is true," she agreed. +</p> +<p> +"You admit that and yet you are willing to be her guest?" +</p> +<p> +She smiled at him approvingly. +</p> +<p> +"If there is one masculine quality which I do appreciate," she said, +"it is directness. I come because I love bridge and because I love +my fellow-creatures and because my own friends are none too +numerous. With the exception of those worthy friends of our host and +his wife who are seated upon your right—Mr. and Mrs. Horsman, I +believe they are called—we are all of the same ilk. Mr. Starling no +one knows anything about; Count Sabatini's record is something +awful." +</p> +<p> +"But there is Rosario," Arnold protested. +</p> +<p> +"Rosario goes into all the odd corners of the world," she replied. +"Sometimes the corners are respectable and sometimes they are not. +It really doesn't matter so far as he is concerned. Supposing, in +return for all this information, you tell me something about +yourself?" +</p> +<p> +"There isn't anything to tell," Arnold assured her. "I was asked +here to fill up. I am an employee of Mr. Weatherley's." +</p> +<p> +She turned in her chair to look at him. Her surprise was obvious. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_29" id="Pg_29"></a>"Do you mean that you are his secretary, or something of that +sort?" she demanded. +</p> +<p> +"I am a clerk in his office," Arnold told her. +</p> +<p> +She was evidently puzzled, but she asked him no more questions. At +that moment Mrs. Weatherley rose from her place. As she passed +Arnold she paused for a moment. +</p> +<p> +"You are all coming in five minutes," she said. "Before we play +bridge, come straight to me. I have something to say to you." +</p> +<p> +He bowed and resumed his seat, from which he had risen quickly at +her coming. Mr. Weatherley motioned to him to move up to his side. +His face now was a little flushed, but his nervousness had not +disappeared. He was certainly not the same man whom one met at +Tooley Street. +</p> +<p> +"Glad to see you've made friends with the wife, Chetwode," he said. +"She seems to have taken quite a fancy to you." +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Weatherley has been very kind," Arnold answered. +</p> +<p> +"Enjoying yourself, I hope?" Mr. Weatherley asked. +</p> +<p> +"Very much indeed," Arnold declared. "It has been quite a treat for +me." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini and Starling were talking earnestly together at the other +side of the table. Rosario, bringing his wine down, came and sat at +his host's other side. +</p> +<p> +"Beautiful vintage, this, Mr. Weatherley," he said. "Excellent +condition, too." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley, obviously pleased, pursued the subject. In a way, it +was almost pathetic to see his pleasure in being addressed by one of +his own guests. Arnold drew a little away and looked across the +<a name="Pg_30" id="Pg_30"></a>banks of roses. There was something fascinating to him in the +unheard conversation of Sabatini and Starling, on the opposite side +of the table. Everything they said was in an undertone and the +inexpressive faces of the two men gave no indication as to the +nature of their conversation. Yet the sense of something mysterious +in this house and among these guests was growing all the time with +Arnold. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0005"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_31" id="Pg_31"></a>CHAPTER IV +</h2> +<h3> + THE FACE AT THE WINDOW +</h3> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley laid his hand upon his young companion's arm as they +crossed the hall on their way from the dining-room. +</p> +<p> +"We are going to play bridge in the music-room," he announced. +"Things are different, nowadays, than when I was a boy. The men and +the women, too, have to smoke cigarettes all the time while they +play cards. A bad habit, Chetwode! A very bad habit indeed! I've +nothing to say against a good Havana cigar in the dining-room or the +smoking-room, but this constant cigarette smoking sickens me. I +can't bear the smell of the things. Here we are. I don't know what +table my wife has put you at, I'm sure. She arranges all these +things herself." +</p> +<p> +Several guests who had arrived during the last few minutes were +already playing at various tables. Mrs. Weatherley was moving about, +directing the proceedings. She came across to them as soon as they +entered, and, laying her hand upon Arnold's arm, drew him on one +side. There was a smile still upon her lips but trouble in her eyes. +She looked over her shoulder a little nervously and Arnold half +unconsciously followed <a name="Pg_32" id="Pg_32"></a>the direction of her gaze. Rosario was +standing apart from the others, talking earnestly with Starling. +</p> +<p> +"I want you to stay with me, if you please," she said. "I am not +sure where you will play, but there is no hurry. I myself shall not +sit down at present. There are others to arrive." +</p> +<p> +Her brother, who had been talking languidly to Lady Blennington, +came slowly up to them. +</p> +<p> +"You, Andrea, will wait for the baccarat, of course?" she said. "I +know that this sort of bridge does not amuse you." +</p> +<p> +He answered her with a little shrug of the shoulders and, leaning +towards her, spoke a few words in some tongue which Arnold did not +at once recognize. She looked again over her shoulder at Rosario and +her face clouded. She replied in the same tongue. Arnold would have +moved away, but she detained him. +</p> +<p> +"You must not mind," she said softly, "that my brother and I talk +sometimes in our native language. You do not, by chance, know +Portuguese, Mr. Chetwode?" +</p> +<p> +"Not a word," he replied. +</p> +<p> +"I am going to leave all these people to amuse themselves," she +continued, dropping her voice slightly. "I want you to come with me +for a moment, Mr. Chetwode. You must take care that you do not slip. +These wooden floors are almost dangerous. I did give a dance here +once," she continued, as they made their way across the room, +talking a little vaguely and with an obvious effort. "I did not +enjoy it at all. To me the style of dancing in this country seems +ungraceful. Look behind, Mr. Chetwode. Tell me, is Mr. Rosario +following us?" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_33" id="Pg_33"></a>Arnold glanced over his shoulder. Rosario was still standing in the +same place, but he was watching them intently. +</p> +<p> +"He is looking after us, but he has not moved," Arnold announced. +</p> +<p> +"It is better for him that he stays there," Mrs. Weatherley said +softly. "Please come." +</p> +<p> +At the further end of the apartment there was a bend to the left. +Mrs. Weatherley led the way around the corner into a small recess, +out of sight of the remainder of the people. Here she paused and, +holding up her finger, looked around. Her head was thrown back, the +trouble still gleamed in her eyes. She listened intently to the hum +of voices, as though trying to distinguish those she knew. +Satisfied, apparently, that their disappearance had not occasioned +any comment, she moved forward again, motioned Arnold to open a +door, and led him down a long passage to the front of the house. +Here she opened the door of an apartment on the left-hand side of +the hall, and almost pushed him in. She closed the door quickly +behind them. Then she held up her finger. +</p> +<p> +"Listen!" she said. +</p> +<p> +They could hear nothing save the distant murmur of voices in the +music-room. The room which they had entered was in complete +darkness, through which the ivory pallor of her arms and face, and +the soft fire of her eyes, seemed to be the only things visible. She +was standing quite close to him. He could hear her breathing, he +could almost fancy that he heard her heart beat. A strand of hair +even touched his cheek as she moved. +</p> +<p> +"I do not wish to turn the light up for a moment," she whispered. +"You do not mind?" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_34" id="Pg_34"></a>"I mind nothing," Arnold answered, bewildered. "Are you afraid of +anything? Is there anything I can do?" +</p> +<p> +A sense of excitement was stirring him. +</p> +<p> +"Just do as I ask, that is all," she murmured. "I want to look +outside a moment. Just do as I ask and keep quiet." +</p> +<p> +She stole from him to the window and, moving the curtain a few +inches, knelt down, peering out. She remained there motionless for a +full minute. Then she rose to her feet and came back. His eyes were +becoming more accustomed to the gloom now and he could see the +outline of her figure as she moved towards him. +</p> +<p> +"Take my place there," she whispered. "Look down the drive. Tell me +whether you can see any one watching the house?" +</p> +<p> +He went down on his knees at the place she indicated and peered +through the parted curtain. For a few seconds he could see nothing; +then, as his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he discerned two +motionless figures standing on the left-hand side of the drive, +partly concealed by a tall laurel bush. +</p> +<p> +"I believe," he declared hoarsely, "that there are two men standing +there." +</p> +<p> +"Tell me, are they moving?" she demanded. +</p> +<p> +"They seem to be simply watching the house," he replied. +</p> +<p> +She was silent. He could hear her breath come and go. +</p> +<p> +"They still do not move?" she asked, after a few seconds. +</p> +<p> +He shook his head, and she turned away, listening to some footsteps +in the hall. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_35" id="Pg_35"></a>"Remember," she whispered, "I am standing where I can turn on the +light in a moment. If any one comes, you are here to see my South +American curios. This is my own sitting-room. You understand?" +</p> +<p> +"I understand," he assented. "Whatever you tell me to say, I will +say." +</p> +<p> +She seemed to be gathering courage. She laughed very softly, as +though amused at his earnestness. There was little enough of mirth +in her laughter, yet somehow it gave him heart. +</p> +<p> +"What do these men want?" he asked. "Would you like me to go out and +send them away?" +</p> +<p> +"No," she replied. "I do not wish you to leave me." +</p> +<p> +"But they are terrifying you," he protested. "What right have they +in your garden? They are here, perhaps, as thieves." +</p> +<p> +"Hush!" +</p> +<p> +She sprang away from him. The room was suddenly flooded with light. +She was leaning with her arm upon the mantelpiece, a statuette of +black ivory in her hand. +</p> +<p> +"If you are really fond of this sort of thing," she began, "you +should come with me to the South Kensington Museum one day—Who is +that?" +</p> +<p> +The door had opened. It was Mr. Weatherley who appeared. Mr. +Weatherley was distinctly fussy and there was some return of his +pompous manner. +</p> +<p> +"My dear Fenella!" he exclaimed. "What on earth are you doing in +here, with half your bridge tables as yet unarranged? Your guests +are wondering what has become of you." +</p> +<p> +"Has any one fresh turned up?" she asked, setting down the +statuette. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_36" id="Pg_36"></a>"A Lady Raynham has just arrived," Mr. Weatherley replied, "and is +making herself very disagreeable because there is no one to tell her +at which table she is to play. I heard a young man who came with +her, too, asking Parkins what time supper was. I do not wish to +criticize the manners of your guests, but really, my dear Fenella, +some of them do seem to have strange ideas." +</p> +<p> +"Lady Raynham," she remarked, coldly, "is a person who should be +glad to find herself under any respectable roof without making +complaints. Mr. Chetwode," she continued, turning to him, "it is my +wish to finish showing you my treasures. Therefore, will you wait +here, please, for a short time, while I go and start another bridge +table? I shall return quite soon. Come, Samuel." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley coughed. He seemed unwilling to leave Arnold behind. +</p> +<p> +"I dare say young Chetwode would like a hand at bridge himself, my +dear," he protested. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Chetwode shall have one later on," she promised. "I think that +very likely he will play at my table. Come." +</p> +<p> +They left the room together. She looked back for a moment before, +they disappeared and Arnold felt his heart give a little jump. She +was certainly the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and +there was something in her treatment of him, the subtle flattery of +her half appealing confidence, which went to his head like wine. The +door closed and he was left alone. He listened to their departing +footsteps. Then he looked around him, for the first time forming +some idea of his surroundings. He was in a very charming, +<a name="Pg_37" id="Pg_37"></a>comfortable-looking apartment, with deep easy-chairs, a divan +covered with luxurious cushions, numbers of little tables covered +with photographs and flowers, a great bowl of hot-house roses, and +an oak cabinet with an oak background in the further corner of the +room, which was packed with curios. After his first brief +inspection, however, he felt scarcely any curiosity as to the +contents of the room. It was the window which drew him always +towards It. Once more he peered through the chink of the curtains. +He had not cared to turn out the lights, however, and for several +moments everything was indistinguishable. Then he saw that the two +figures still remained in very nearly the same position, except that +they had drawn, if anything, a little closer to the house. +</p> +<p> +A tiny clock upon the mantelpiece was ticking away the seconds. +Arnold had no idea how long he remained there watching. Suddenly, +however, he received a shock. For some time he had fancied that one +of the two figures had disappeared altogether, and now, outside on +the window-sill, scarcely a couple of feet from the glass through +which he was looking, a man's hand appeared and gripped the +window-sill. He stared at it, fascinated. It was so close to him +that he could see the thin, yellow fingers, on one of which was a +signet ring with a blood-red stone; the misshapen knuckles, the +broken nails. He was on the point of throwing up the window when a +man's face shot up from underneath and peered into the room. There +was only the thickness of the glass between them, and the light from +the gas lamp which stood at the corner of the drive fell full upon +the white, strained features and the glittering black eyes which +stared into the room. The chink of the curtain through which Arnold +was gazing was barely <a name="Pg_38" id="Pg_38"></a>an inch wide; but it was sufficient. For a +moment he stared at the man. Then he threw the curtains open and +stooped to unfasten the window. It was the affair of a few seconds +only to throw it up. To his surprise, the man did not move. Their +faces almost touched. +</p> +<p> +"What the devil do you want?" Arnold exclaimed, gripping him by the +arm. +</p> +<p> +The man did not flinch. He inclined his head towards the interior of +the room. +</p> +<p> +"Rosario, the Jew," he answered thickly. "He is in the house there. +Will you take him a message?" +</p> +<p> +"Ring at the door and bring it yourself," Arnold retorted. +</p> +<p> +The man laughed contemptuously. He stared at Arnold for a moment and +seemed to realize for the first time that he was a stranger. +</p> +<p> +"You are a fool to meddle in things you know nothing of!" he +muttered. +</p> +<p> +"I know you've no right where you are," said Arnold, "and I shall +keep you until some one comes." +</p> +<p> +The intruder made a sudden dive, freeing himself with an +extraordinary turn of the wrist. Arnold caught a glimpse of his face +as he slunk away. While he hesitated whether to follow him, he heard +the door open and the soft rustle of a woman's skirts. +</p> +<p> +"What are you doing out there, Mr. Chetwode?" +</p> +<p> +He turned around. Mrs. Weatherley was standing just behind him, +leaning also out of the window, with a little halo of light about +her head. For a moment he was powerless to answer. Her head was +thrown back, her lips parted. She seemed to be listening as well as +watching. There was fear in her eyes as she looked at <a name="Pg_39" id="Pg_39"></a>him, yet she +made the most beautiful picture he had ever seen. He pulled himself +together. +</p> +<p> +"Well?" she asked, breathlessly. +</p> +<p> +"I was waiting here for you," he explained. "I looked through the +curtains. Then I saw a man's hand upon the sill." +</p> +<a name="image-0002"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/img39.jpg" width="357" height="442" +alt="'I was waiting here for you,' he explained." /> +</center> +<p class="cap">"I was waiting here for you," he explained. <i>Page</i> <a href="#Pg_39">39</a>. +</p> + +<p> +Her hand shot to her side. +</p> +<p> +"Go on," she whispered. +</p> +<p> +"I saw his face," Arnold continued. "It was pressed close to the +window. It was as though he meant to enter. I threw the curtains +back, opened the window, and gripped him by the arm. I asked him +what he wanted." +</p> +<p> +She sat down in a chair and began to tremble. +</p> +<p> +"He said he wanted Rosario, the Jew," Arnold went on. "Then, when he +found that I was a stranger, he got away. I don't know how he +managed it, for my fingers are strong enough, but he wrenched +himself free somehow." +</p> +<p> +"Look out once more," she implored. "See if he is anywhere around. I +will speak to him." +</p> +<p> +He stood at the window and looked in every direction. +</p> +<p> +"There is no one in sight," he declared. "I will go to the corner of +the street, if you like." +</p> +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"Close the window and bolt it, please," she begged. "Draw the +curtains tight. Now come and sit down here for a moment." +</p> +<p> +He did as he was bidden with some reluctance. +</p> +<p> +"The man was a villainous-looking creature," he persisted. "I don't +think that he was up to any good. Look! There's a policeman almost +opposite. Shall I go and tell him?" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_40" id="Pg_40"></a>She put out her hand and clasped his, drawing him down to her side. +Then she looked steadfastly into his face. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Chetwode," she said slowly, "women have many disadvantages in +life, but they have had one gift bestowed upon them in which they +trust always. It is the gift of instinct. You are very young, and I +know very little about you, but I know that you are to be trusted." +</p> +<p> +"If I could serve you," he murmured,— +</p> +<p> +"You can," she interrupted. +</p> +<p> +Then for a time she was silent. Some new emotion seemed to move her. +Her face was softer than he had ever seen it, her beautiful eyes +dimmer. His mind was filled with new thoughts of her. +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Weatherley," he pleaded, "please do believe in me, do trust +me. I mean absolutely what I say when I tell you there is nothing in +the world I would not do to save you from trouble or alarm." +</p> +<p> +Her moment of weakness was over. She flashed one wonderful smile at +him and rose to her feet. +</p> +<p> +"It is agreed," she declared. "When I need help—and it may be at +any moment—I shall call upon you." +</p> +<p> +"I shall be honored," he assured her, gravely. "In the meantime, +please tell me—are we to speak of this to Rosario?" +</p> +<p> +"Leave it to me," she begged. "I cannot explain to you what all this +means, but I think that Mr. Rosario can take care of himself. We +must go back now to the bridge-room. My husband is annoyed with me +for coming away again." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley met them in the passage. He was distinctly irritable. +</p> +<p> +"My dear Fenella!" he exclaimed. "Your guests do <a name="Pg_41" id="Pg_41"></a>not understand +your absence. Mr. Rosario is most annoyed and I cannot imagine what +is the matter with Starling. I am afraid that he and Rosario have +had words." +</p> +<p> +She turned her head as she passed, and smiled very slightly. +</p> +<p> +"I have no concern," she said, "in the quarrel between Mr. Starling +and Mr. Rosario. As for the others—Mr. Chetwode and I are quite +ready for bridge now. We are going in to do our duty." +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0006"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_42" id="Pg_42"></a>CHAPTER V +</h2> +<h3> + AN UNUSUAL ERRAND +</h3> +<p> +Arnold arrived at the office the next morning punctually at five +minutes to nine, and was already at work when Mr. Jarvis appeared +ten minutes later. +</p> +<p> +"Gayety's not upset you, then, eh?" the latter remarked, divesting +himself of his hat and overcoat. +</p> +<p> +"Not at all, thanks," Arnold answered. +</p> +<p> +"Nice house, the governor's, isn't it?" +</p> +<p> +"Very nice indeed." +</p> +<p> +"Good dinners he gives, too," continued Mr. Jarvis. "Slap-up wines, +and the right sort of company. Must have been an eye-opener for +you." +</p> +<p> +Arnold nodded. He was not in the least anxious to discuss the events +of the previous evening with Mr. Jarvis. The latter, however, came a +little nearer to him. He took off his gold-rimmed spectacles and +wiped them carefully. +</p> +<p> +"Now I should like to know," he said, "exactly how Mrs. Weatherley +struck you?" +</p> +<p> +"She appeared to me to be a singularly charming and very beautiful +lady," Arnold replied, writing quickly. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis was disappointed. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_43" id="Pg_43"></a>"She's good-looking enough," he admitted. "I can't say that I've +seen much of her, mind you, but she gave me the impression of a +woman who wasn't above using the powder-puff. She drove down here +with the governor one day, and to look at her you'd have thought she +was a princess come among the slums." +</p> +<p> +"She was born abroad," Arnold remarked. "I dare say this atmosphere +would seem a little strange to her." +</p> +<p> +"Sort of half a foreigner, I've understood," Mr. Jarvis continued. +"Speaks English all right, though. I can't help thinking," he went +on, "that the governor would have done better to have married into +one of our old city families. Nothing like them, you know, Chetwode. +Some fine women, too. There's Godson, the former Lord Mayor. He had +four daughters, and the governor might have had his pick." +</p> +<p> +"Here he comes," Arnold remarked, quietly. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis took the hint and went off to his work. A moment or two +later, Mr. Weatherley arrived. He passed through the office and +bestowed upon every one his customary salutation. At Arnold's desk +he paused for a moment. +</p> +<p> +"Feeling all right this morning, young man?" he inquired, striving +after a note of patronage which somehow or other eluded him. +</p> +<p> +"Quite well, thank you, sir." +</p> +<p> +"You found the evening pleasant, I hope? Didn't lose any money at +bridge, eh?" +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Weatherley was good enough to take on the stakes, sir," Arnold +replied. "As a matter of fact, I believe that we won. I enjoyed the +evening very much, thank you." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_44" id="Pg_44"></a>Mr. Weatherley passed on to his office. Jarvis waited until his +door was closed. +</p> +<p> +"So you played bridge with Mrs. Weatherley, eh?" he remarked. +</p> +<p> +"I did," Arnold admitted. "Have you noticed the shrinkage of weight +in these last invoices?" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis accepted the papers which his junior passed him, and +departed into the warehouse. Arnold was left untroubled with any +more questions. At half-past twelve, however, he was sent for into +Mr. Weatherley's private office. Mr. Weatherley was leaning back in +his chair and he had the air of a man who has come to a resolution. +</p> +<p> +"Shut the door, Chetwode," he ordered. +</p> +<p> +Arnold did as he was bidden. +</p> +<p> +"Come up to the desk here," he was further instructed. "Now, listen +to me," Mr. Weatherley continued, after a moment's pause. "You are a +young man of discretion, I am sure. My wife, I may say, Chetwode, +thought quite highly of you last night." +</p> +<p> +Arnold looked his employer in the face and felt a sudden pang of +sympathy. Mr. Weatherley was certainly not looking as hale and +prosperous as a few months ago. His cheeks were flabby, and there +was a worried look about him which the head of the firm of +Weatherley & Co. should certainly not have worn. +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Weatherley is very kind, sir," he remarked. "As to my +discretion, I may say that I believe I am to be trusted. I should +try, of course, to justify any confidence you might place in me." +</p> +<p> +"I believe so, too, Chetwode," Mr. Weatherley declared. "I am going +to trust you now with a somewhat peculiar commission. You may have +noticed that <a name="Pg_45" id="Pg_45"></a>I have been asked to speak privately upon the +telephone several times this morning." +</p> +<p> +"Certainly, sir," Arnold replied. "It was I who put you through." +</p> +<p> +"I am not even sure," Mr. Weatherley continued, "who it was +speaking, but I received some communications which I think I ought +to take notice of. I want you accordingly to go to a certain +restaurant in the west-end, the name and address of which I will +give you, order your lunch there—you can have whatever you +like—and wait until you see Mr. Rosario. I dare say you remember +meeting Mr. Rosario last night, eh?" +</p> +<p> +"Certainly, sir. I remember him quite well." +</p> +<p> +"He will not be expecting you, so you will have to sit near the door +and watch for him. Directly you see him, you must go to him and say +that this message is from a friend. Tell him that whatever +engagement he may have formed for luncheon, he is to go at once to +the Prince's Grill Room and remain there until two o'clock. He is +not to lunch at the Milan—that is the name of the place where you +will be. Do you understand?" +</p> +<p> +"I understand perfectly," Arnold assented. "But supposing he only +laughs at me?" +</p> +<p> +"You will have done your duty," Mr. Weatherley said. "There need be +no mystery about the affair. You can say at once that you are there +as the result of certain telephone messages addressed to me this +morning, and that I should have come myself if it had been possible. +If he chooses to disregard them, it is his affair entirely—not +mine. At the same time, I think that he will go." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_46" id="Pg_46"></a>"It seems an odd sort of a thing to tell a perfect stranger, sir," +Arnold remarked. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley produced a five-pound note. +</p> +<p> +"You can't go into those sort of places without money in your +pocket," he continued. "You can account to me for the change later, +but don't spare yourself. Have as good a lunch as you can eat. The +restaurant is the Milan Grill Room on the Strand—the café, mind, +not the main restaurant. You know where it is?" +</p> +<p> +"Quite well, sir, thank you." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley looked at his employee curiously. +</p> +<p> +"Have you ever been there, then?" he inquired. +</p> +<p> +"Once or twice, sir," Arnold admitted. +</p> +<p> +"Not on the twenty-eight shillings a week you get from me!" +</p> +<p> +"Quite true, sir," Arnold assented. "My circumstances were slightly +different at the time." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley hesitated. This young man's manner did not invite +confidences. On the other hand, he was genuinely curious about him. +</p> +<p> +"What made you come into the city, Chetwode?" he inquired. "You +don't seem altogether cut out for it—not that you don't do your +work and all that sort of thing," he went on, hastily. "I haven't a +word of complaint to make, mind. All the same, you certainly seem as +though you might have done a little better for yourself." +</p> +<p> +"It is the fault of circumstances, sir," Arnold replied. "I am +hoping that before long you will find that I do my work well enough +to give me a better position." +</p> +<p> +"You are ambitious, then?" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_47" id="Pg_47"></a>The face of the young man was suddenly grim. +</p> +<p> +"I mean to get on," he declared. "There were several years of my +life when I used to imagine things. I have quite finished with that. +I realize that there is only one way by means of which a man can +count." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley nodded ponderously. +</p> +<p> +"Well," he said, "let me see that your work is well done, and you +may find promotion is almost as quick in the city as anywhere else. +You had better be off now." +</p> +<p> +"I trust," Arnold ventured, as he turned toward the door, "that Mrs. +Weatherley is quite well this morning?" +</p> +<p> +"So far as I know, she is," Mr. Weatherley replied. "My wife isn't +usually visible before luncheon time. Continental habits, you know. +I shall expect you back by three o'clock. You must come and report +to me then." +</p> +<p> +Arnold brushed his hat and coat with extra care as he took them down +from the peg. +</p> +<p> +"Going to lunch early, aren't you?" Mr. Jarvis remarked, looking at +the clock. "Not sure that we can spare you yet. Smithers isn't +back." +</p> +<p> +"I am going out for the governor," Arnold replied. +</p> +<p> +"What, to the bank?" Mr. Jarvis asked. +</p> +<p> +Arnold affected not to hear. He walked out into the street, lit a +cigarette, and had his boots carefully polished at London Bridge +Station. Then, as he had plenty of time, he took the train to +Charing Cross and walked blithely down the Strand. Freed from the +routine of his office work, he found his mind once more full of the +events of last night. There was so much that he could not +understand, yet there was so much that seemed to <a name="Pg_48" id="Pg_48"></a>be leading him on +towards the land of adventures. He found himself watching the faces +in the Strand with a new interest, and he laughed to himself as he +realized what it was. He was looking all the time for the man whose +face he had seen pressed to the window-pane! +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0007"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_49" id="Pg_49"></a>CHAPTER VI +</h2> +<h3> + THE GLEAM OF STEEL +</h3> +<p> +At the Milan, Arnold found himself early for luncheon. He chose a +table quite close to the entrance, ordered his luncheon with some +care, and commenced his watch. A thin stream of people was all the +time arriving, but for the first half-hour there was no one whom he +could associate in any way with his commission. It was not until he +had actually commenced his lunch that anything happened. Then, +through the half-open door, he heard what he recognized instantly as +a familiar voice. The manager of the restaurant hurried toward the +entrance and he heard the question repeated. +</p> +<p> +"Is Mr. Rosario here?" +</p> +<p> +"We have a table for him, madame, but he has not yet arrived," the +<i>maître d'hôtel</i> replied. "If madame will allow me to show her the +way!" +</p> +<p> +Arnold rose to his feet with a little start. Notwithstanding her +fashionable outdoor clothes and thick veil, he recognized Mrs. +Weatherley at once as she swept into the room, following the <i>maître +d'hôtel</i>. She came up to him with slightly upraised eyebrows. It was +clear that his presence there was a surprise to her. +</p> +<p> +"I scarcely expected to see you again so soon," she <a name="Pg_50" id="Pg_50"></a>remarked, +giving him her fingers. "Are you lunching alone?" +</p> +<p> +"Quite alone," Arnold answered. +</p> +<p> +She glanced half carelessly around, as though to see whether she +recognized any acquaintances. Arnold, however, was convinced that +she was simply anxious not to be overheard. +</p> +<p> +"Tell me," she inquired, "has my husband sent you here?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold admitted the fact. +</p> +<p> +"I have a message," he replied. +</p> +<p> +"For Mr. Rosario?" +</p> +<p> +"For Mr. Rosario." +</p> +<p> +"You have not seen anything of him yet, then?" she asked quickly. +</p> +<p> +"He has not been here," Arnold assured her. "I have kept my eyes +glued upon the door." +</p> +<p> +"Tell me the message quickly," she begged. +</p> +<p> +Arnold did not hesitate. Mr. Weatherley was his employer but this +woman was his employer's wife. If there were secrets between them, +it was not his concern. It seemed natural enough that she should +ask. It was certainly not his place to refuse to answer her +question. +</p> +<p> +"I was to tell him that on no account was he to lunch here to-day," +Arnold said. "He was to go instead to the grill room at Prince's in +Piccadilly, and remain there until two o'clock." +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Weatherley made no remark. Her face was emotionless. Closely +though he was watching her, Arnold could not himself have declared +at that moment whether indeed this message had any import to her or +not. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_51" id="Pg_51"></a>"I find my husband's behavior exceedingly mysterious," she said +thoughtfully. "I cannot imagine how he became concerned in the +matter at all." +</p> +<p> +"I believe," Arnold told her, "that some one telephoned Mr. +Weatherley this morning. He was asked for privately several times +and he seemed very much disturbed by some message he received." +</p> +<p> +"Some one telephoned him," she repeated, frowning. "Now I wonder who +that person could be." +</p> +<p> +She sat quite still for a moment or two, looking through the +glass-paneled door. Then she shrugged her shoulders. +</p> +<p> +"In any case," she declared, "I am here to lunch and I am hungry. I +will not wait for Mr. Rosario. May I sit here?" +</p> +<p> +He called a waiter and the extra place was very soon prepared. +</p> +<p> +"If Mr. Rosario comes," she said, "we can see him from here. You can +then give him your message and he can please himself. I should like +some Omelette aux Champignons, please, and some red wine—nothing +more. Perhaps I will take some fruit later. And now, please, Mr. +Arnold Chetwode, will you listen to me?" +</p> +<p> +She undid her ermine cloak and laid aside her muff. The collection +of costly trifles which she had been carrying she threw carelessly +upon the table. +</p> +<p> +"Last night," she continued, softly, "we agreed, did we not, to be +friends? It is possible you may find our friendship one of deeds, +not words alone." +</p> +<p> +"There is nothing I ask for more sincerely," he declared. +</p> +<p> +"To begin with, then," she went on, "I do not wish that you call me +Mrs. Weatherley. The name annoys <a name="Pg_52" id="Pg_52"></a>me. It reminds me of things which +at times it is a joy to me to forget. You shall call me Fenella, and +I shall call you Arnold." +</p> +<p> +"Fenella," he repeated, half to himself. +</p> +<p> +She nodded. +</p> +<p> +"Well, then, that is arranged. Now for the first thing I have to ask +of you. If Mr. Rosario comes, I do not wish that message from my +husband to be delivered." +</p> +<p> +Arnold frowned slightly. +</p> +<p> +"Isn't that a little difficult?" he protested. "Mr. Weatherley has +sent me up here for no other reason. He has given me an exact +commission, has told me even the words I am to use. What excuse can +I possibly make?" +</p> +<p> +She smiled. +</p> +<p> +"You shall be relieved of all responsibility," she declared. "If I +tell my husband that I do not wish you to obey his bidding, that +will be sufficient. It is a matter of which my husband understands +little. There are people whose interest it is to protect Rosario. It +is they who have spoken, without a doubt, this morning through the +telephone, but my husband does not understand. Rosario must take +care of himself. He runs his own risks. He is a man, and he knows +very well what he is doing." +</p> +<p> +Arnold looked at her thoughtfully. +</p> +<p> +"Do you seriously suppose, then," he asked, "that the object of my +message is to bid Mr. Rosario keep away from here because of some +actual danger?" +</p> +<p> +"Why not? Mr. Rosario has chosen to interfere in a very difficult +and dangerous matter. He runs his own risks and he asks for a big +reward. It is not our place to protect him." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_53" id="Pg_53"></a>She raised her veil and he looked at her closely. She was still as +beautiful as he had thought her last night, but her complexion was +pallid almost to fragility, and there were faint violet lines under +her eyes. +</p> +<p> +"You have not slept," he said. "It was the fear of last night." +</p> +<p> +"I slept badly," she admitted, "but that passes. This afternoon I +shall rest." +</p> +<p> +"I cannot help thinking," he went on, "about those men who watched +the house last night. They could have been after no good. I wish you +would let me go to the police-station. Or would you like me to come +and watch myself, to-night or to-morrow night, to see if they come +again?" +</p> +<p> +She shook her head firmly. +</p> +<p> +"No!" she decided. "It wouldn't do any good. Just now, at any rate, +it is Rosario they want." +</p> +<p> +Their conversation was interrupted for several moments while she +exchanged greetings with friends passing in and out of the +restaurant. Then she turned again to her companion. +</p> +<p> +"Tell me," she asked, a little abruptly, "why are you a clerk in the +city? You do not come of that order of people." +</p> +<p> +"Necessity," he assured her promptly. "I hadn't a sovereign in the +world when your husband engaged me." +</p> +<p> +"You were not brought up for such a life!" +</p> +<p> +"Not altogether," he admitted. "It suits me very well, though." +</p> +<p> +"Poor boy!" she murmured. "You, too, have had evil fortune. Perhaps +the black hand has shadowed us both." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_54" id="Pg_54"></a>"A man makes his own life," he answered, impulsively, "but you—you +were made for happiness. It is your right." +</p> +<p> +She glanced for a moment at the rings upon her fingers. Then she +looked into his eyes. +</p> +<p> +"I married Mr. Weatherley," she reminded him. "Do you think that if +I had been happy I should have done that? Do you think that, having +done it, I deserve to know, or could know, what happiness really +means?" +</p> +<p> +It was very hard to answer her. Arnold found himself divided between +his loyalty towards the man who, in his way, had been kind to him, +and the woman who seemed to be stepping with such fascinating ease +into the empty places of his life. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Weatherley is very much devoted to you," he remarked. +</p> +<p> +A shadow of derision parted her lips. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Weatherley is a very worthy man," she said, "but it would have +been better for him as well as for me if he had kept away from the +Island of Sabatini. Tell me, what did Lady Blennington say about us +last night?" +</p> +<p> +His eyes twinkled. +</p> +<p> +"She told me that Mr. Weatherley was wrecked upon the Island of +Sabatini, and that your brother kept him in a dungeon till he +promised to marry you." +</p> +<p> +She laughed. +</p> +<p> +"And you? What did you think of that?" +</p> +<p> +"I thought," he replied, "that if adventures of that sort were to be +found in those seas, I would like to beg or borrow the money to sail +there myself and steer for the rocks." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_55" id="Pg_55"></a>"For a boy," she declared, "you say very charming things. Tell me, +how old are you?" +</p> +<p> +"Twenty-four." +</p> +<p> +"You would not look so old if it were not for that line. You know, I +read characters and fortunes. All the women of my race have done so. +I can tell you that you had a youth of ease and happiness and one +year of terrible life. Then you started again. It is true, is it +not?" +</p> +<p> +"Very nearly," he admitted. +</p> +<p> +"I wonder—" +</p> +<p> +She never finished her sentence. From their table, which was nearest +to the door, they were suddenly aware of a commotion of some sort +going on just outside. Through the glass door Rosario was plainly +visible, his sleekness ruffled, his white face distorted with +terror. The hand of some unseen person was gripping him by the +throat, bearing him backwards. There was a shout and they both saw +the cloakroom attendant spring over his counter. Something glittered +in the dim light—a flash of blue polished steel. There was a gleam +in the air, a horrible cry, and Rosario collapsed upon the floor. +Arnold, who was already on his feet and half-way to the door, caught +one glimpse of the upstretched hand, and all his senses were +thrilled with what he saw. Upon the little finger was a signet ring +with a scarlet stone! +</p> +<p> +The whole affair was a matter of seconds, yet Arnold dashed through +the door to find Rosario a crumpled-up heap, the cloakroom attendant +bending over him, and no one else in the vestibule. Then the people +began to stream in—the hall porter, the lift man, some loiterers +from the outer hall. The cloakroom attendant sprang to his feet. He +seemed dazed. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_56" id="Pg_56"></a>"Stop him!" he shouted. "Stop him!" +</p> +<p> +The little group in the doorway looked at one another. +</p> +<p> +"He went that way!" the cloakroom attendant cried out again. "He +passed through that door!" +</p> +<p> +Some of them rushed into the street. One man hurried to the +telephone, the others pressed forward to where Rosario lay on his +back, with a thin stream of blood finding its way through his +waistcoat. Arnold was suddenly conscious of a woman's arm upon his +and a hoarse whisper in his ear. +</p> +<p> +"Come back! Take me away somewhere quickly! This is no affair of +ours. I want to think. Take me away, please. I can't look at him." +</p> +<p> +"Did you see the man's hand?" Arnold gasped. +</p> +<p> +"What of it?" +</p> +<p> +"It was the hand I saw upon your window-sill last night. It was the +same ring—a scarlet signet ring. I could swear to it." +</p> +<p> +She gave a little moan and her whole weight lay upon his arm. In the +rush of people and the clamor of voices around, they were almost +unobserved. He passed his arm around her, and even in that moment of +wild excitement he was conscious of a nameless joy which seemed to +set his heart leaping. He led her back through the restaurant and +into one of the smaller rooms of the hotel. He found her an +easy-chair and stood over her. +</p> +<p> +"You won't leave me?" she begged. +</p> +<p> +He held her hand tightly. +</p> +<p> +"Not until you send me away!" +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0008"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_57" id="Pg_57"></a>CHAPTER VII +</h2> +<h3> + "ROSARIO IS DEAD!" +</h3> +<p> +Fenella never became absolutely unconscious. She was for some time +in a state apparently of intense nervous prostration. Her breath was +coming quickly, her eyes and her fingers seemed to be clinging to +his as though for support. Her touch, her intimate presence, her +reliance upon him, seemed to Arnold to infect the very atmosphere of +the place with a thrill of the strangest excitement. +</p> +<p> +"You think that he is dead?" she faltered once. +</p> +<p> +"Of course not," he replied reassuringly. "I saw no weapon at all. +It was just a quarrel." +</p> +<p> +She half closed her eyes. +</p> +<p> +"There was blood upon his waistcoat," she declared, "and I saw +something flash through the window." +</p> +<p> +"I will go and see, if you like," Arnold suggested. +</p> +<p> +Her fingers gripped his. +</p> +<p> +"Not yet! Don't leave me yet! Why did you say that you recognized +the hand—that it was the same hand you saw upon the window-sill +last night?" +</p> +<p> +"Because of the signet ring," Arnold answered promptly. "It was a +crude-looking affair, but the <a name="Pg_58" id="Pg_58"></a>stone was bright scarlet. It was +impossible to mistake it." +</p> +<p> +"It was only the ring, then?" +</p> +<p> +"Only the ring, of course," he admitted. "I did not see the hand +close enough. It was foolish of me, perhaps, to say anything about +it, and yet—and yet the man last night—he was looking for Rosario. +Why should it not be the same?" +</p> +<p> +He heard the breath come through her teeth in a little sob. +</p> +<p> +"Don't say anything at present to any one else. Indeed, there are +others who might have worn such a ring." +</p> +<p> +Arnold hesitated, but only for a second. He chanced to look into her +face, and her whisper became his command. +</p> +<p> +"Very well," he promised. +</p> +<p> +A few moments later she sat up. She was evidently becoming stronger. +</p> +<p> +"Now go," she begged, "and see—how he is. Find out exactly what has +happened and come back. I shall wait for you here." +</p> +<p> +He stood up eagerly. +</p> +<p> +"You are sure that you will be all right?" +</p> +<p> +"Of course," she replied. "Indeed, I shall be better when I know +what really has happened. You must go quickly, please, and come back +quickly. Stop!" +</p> +<p> +Arnold, who had already started, turned back again. They were in a +ladies' small reception room at the head of the stairs leading down +into the restaurant, quite alone, for every one had streamed across +the courtyard to see what the disturbance was. The side of the room +adjoining the stairs and the broad passage leading <a name="Pg_59" id="Pg_59"></a>to the +restaurant was entirely of glass. A man, on his way up the stairs, +had paused and was looking intently at them. +</p> +<p> +"Tell me, who is that?" demanded Fenella. +</p> +<p> +Arnold recognized him at once. +</p> +<p> +"It is your friend Starling—the man from South America." +</p> +<p> +"Starling!" she murmured. +</p> +<p> +"I think that he is coming in," Arnold continued. "He has seen you. +Do you mind?" +</p> +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"No. He will stay with me while you are away. Perhaps he knows +something." +</p> +<p> +Arnold hurried off and met Starling upon the threshold of the room. +</p> +<p> +"Isn't that Mrs. Weatherley with you?" the latter inquired. +</p> +<p> +"Yes," Arnold told him. "She was lunching with me in the Grill Room. +I believe that she was really waiting for Rosario—when the affair +happened." +</p> +<p> +"What affair?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold stared at him. It seemed impossible that there was any one +ignorant of the tragedy. +</p> +<p> +"Haven't you heard?" Arnold exclaimed. "Rosario was stabbed outside +the Grill Room a few moments ago." +</p> +<p> +Starling's pallid complexion seemed suddenly to become ghastly. +</p> +<p> +"Rosario—Rosario stabbed?" he faltered. +</p> +<p> +"I thought that every one in the place must have heard of it," +Arnold continued. "He was stabbed just as he was entering the café, +not more than ten minutes ago." +</p> +<p> +"By whom?" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_60" id="Pg_60"></a>Starling's words came with the swift crispness of a pistol shot. +Arnold shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"I didn't see. I am just going to ask for particulars. Will you stay +with Mrs. Weatherley?" +</p> +<p> +Starling looked searchingly along the vestibule. The news seemed to +have affected him strangely. His head was thrown a little back, his +nostrils distended. He reminded Arnold for a moment of a watch-dog, +listening. +</p> +<p> +"Of course," he muttered, "of course. Come back as soon as you can +and let us know what has happened." +</p> +<p> +Arnold made his way through the reception hall and across the +courtyard. Already the crowd of people was melting away. A policeman +stood on guard at the opposite door, and two more at the entrance of +the café. The whole of the vestibule where the affair had happened +was closed, and the only information which it was possible to +collect Arnold gathered from the excited conversations of the little +knots of people standing around. In a few minutes he returned to the +small reception room. Fenella and Starling looked eagerly up as he +entered. They both showed signs of an intense emotion. Starling was +even gripping the back of a chair as he spoke. +</p> +<p> +"What of Rosario?" he demanded. +</p> +<p> +Arnold hesitated, but only for a moment. The truth, perhaps, was +best. +</p> +<p> +"Rosario is dead," he replied gravely. "He was stabbed to the heart +and died within a few seconds." +</p> +<p> +There was a queer silence. Arnold felt inclined to rub his eyes. +Gone was at least part of the horror from their white faces. Fenella +sank back in her chair with a little sob which might almost have +been of re<a name="Pg_61" id="Pg_61"></a>lief. Starling, as though suddenly mindful of the +conventions, assumed a grimly dolorous aspect. +</p> +<p> +"Poor fellow!" he muttered. "And the murderer?" +</p> +<p> +"He's gotten clean off, for the present at any rate," Arnold told +them. "They seem to think that he reached the Strand and had a motor +car waiting." +</p> +<p> +Again there was silence. Then Mrs. Weatherley rose to her feet, +glanced for a moment in the looking-glass, and turning round held +out both her hands to Arnold. +</p> +<p> +"You have been so kind to me," she said softly. "I shall not forget +it—indeed I shall not. Mr. Starling is going to take me home in his +car. Good-bye!" +</p> +<p> +Arnold held her hands steadfastly and looked into her eyes. They +were more beautiful than ever now with their mist of risen tears. +But there were other things in her face, things less easy to +understand. He turned away regretfully. +</p> +<p> +"I am sorry that you should have had such a shock," he said. "Is +there any message for Mr. Weatherley?" +</p> +<p> +She exchanged a quick glance with her companion. Then for the first +time Arnold realized the significance of the errand on which he had +come. +</p> +<p> +"Some one must have warned Mr. Weatherley of what was likely to +happen!" he exclaimed. "It was for that reason I was sent here!" +</p> +<p> +Again no one spoke for several seconds. +</p> +<p> +"It was not your fault," she said gently. "You were told to wait +inside the restaurant. You could not have done more." +</p> +<p> +Arnold turned away with a little shiver. His mission had been to +save a man's life, and he had failed! +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0009"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_62" id="Pg_62"></a>CHAPTER VIII +</h2> +<h3> + THE DUTIES OF A SECRETARY +</h3> +<p> +It was twenty minutes to four before Arnold reached the office. Mr. +Jarvis looked at him curiously as he took off his hat and hung it +up. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know what you've been up to, young man," he remarked, "but +you'll find the governor in a queer state of mind. For the last hour +he's been ringing his bell every five minutes, asking for you." +</p> +<p> +"I was detained," Arnold answered shortly. "Is he alone now?" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis nodded. +</p> +<p> +"I think that you had better go in at once," he advised. "There he +is stamping about inside. I hope you've got some good excuse or +there'll be the dickens to pay." +</p> +<p> +The door of the inner office was suddenly opened. Mr. Weatherley +appeared upon the threshold. He recognized Arnold with an expression +partly of anger, partly of relief. +</p> +<p> +"So here you are at last, young man!" he exclaimed. "Where the +dickens have you been to all this while? Come in—come in at once! +Do you see the time?" +</p> +<p> +"I am very sorry indeed, sir," Arnold replied. "I <a name="Pg_63" id="Pg_63"></a>can assure you +that I have not wasted a moment that I know of." +</p> +<p> +"Then what in the name of goodness did you find to keep you occupied +all this time?" Mr. Weatherley demanded, pushing him through into +the office and closing the door behind them. "Did you see Mr. +Rosario? Did you give him the message?" +</p> +<p> +"I had no opportunity, sir," Arnold answered gravely. +</p> +<p> +"No opportunity? What do you mean? Didn't he come to the Milan? +Didn't you see him at all?" +</p> +<p> +"He came, sir," Arnold admitted, "but I was not able to see him in +time. I thought, perhaps," he added, "that you might have heard what +happened." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley had reached the limits of his patience. He struck the +table with his clenched fist. For a moment anger triumphed over his +state of nervous excitability. +</p> +<p> +"Heard?" he cried. "Heard what? What the devil should I hear down +here? If you've anything to tell, why don't you tell it me? Why do +you stand there looking like a—" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley was suddenly frightened. He understood from Arnold's +expression that something serious had happened. +</p> +<p> +"My God!" he exclaimed. "Mrs. Weatherley—my wife—" +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Weatherley is quite well," Arnold assured him quickly. "It is +Mr. Rosario." +</p> +<p> +"What of him? What about Rosario?" +</p> +<p> +"He is dead," Arnold announced. "You will read all about it in the +evening papers. He was murdered—just as he was on the point of +entering the Milan Grill Room." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_64" id="Pg_64"></a>Mr. Weatherley began to shake. He looked like a man on the verge of +a collapse. He was still, however, able to ask a question. +</p> +<p> +"By whom?" +</p> +<p> +"The murderer was not caught," Arnold told him. "No one seems to +have seen him clearly, it all took place so quickly. He stole out of +some corner where he must have been hiding, and he was gone before +anyone had time to realize what was happening." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley had been standing up all this time, clutching +nervously at his desk. He suddenly collapsed into his easy-chair. +His face was gray, his mouth twitched as though he were about to +have a stroke. +</p> +<p> +"My God!" he murmured. "Rosario dead! They had him, after all! +They—killed him!" +</p> +<p> +"It was a great shock to every one," Arnold went on. "Mrs. +Weatherley arrived about a quarter of an hour before it occurred. I +understood that she was expecting to lunch with him, but when I told +her why I was there she came and sat at my table. She was sitting +there when it happened. She was very much upset indeed. I was +detained looking after her." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley looked at him narrowly. +</p> +<p> +"I am sorry that she was there," he said. "She is not strong. She +ought not to be subjected to such shocks." +</p> +<p> +"I left her with Mr. Starling," Arnold continued. "He was going to +take her home." +</p> +<p> +"Was Starling lunching there?" Mr. Weatherley asked. +</p> +<p> +"We saw him afterwards, coming up from the restaurant," Arnold +replied. "He did not seem to have been in the Grill Room at all." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_65" id="Pg_65"></a>Mr. Weatherley sat back in his chair and for several minutes he +remained silent. His eyes were fixed upon vacancy, his lips moved +once or twice, but he said nothing. He seemed, indeed, to have lost +the power of speech. +</p> +<p> +"It is extraordinary how the affair could have happened, almost +unnoticed, in such a crowded place," Arnold went on, feeling somehow +that it was best for him to talk. "There is nearly always a little +stream of people coming in, or a telephone boy, or some one passing, +but it happened that Mr. Rosario came in alone. He had just handed +his silk hat to the cloakroom attendant, who had turned away with +it, when the man who killed him slipped out from somewhere, caught +him by the throat, and it was all over in a few seconds. The +murderer seems to have kept his face entirely hidden. They do not +appear to have found a single person who could identify him. I had a +table quite close to the door, as you told me, and I really saw the +blow struck. We rushed outside, but, though I don't believe we were +more than a few seconds, there wasn't a soul in sight." +</p> +<p> +"The police will find out something," Mr. Weatherley muttered. "They +are sure to find out something." +</p> +<p> +"Some people think," Arnold continued, "that the man never left the +hotel, or, if he did, that he was taken away in a motor car. The +whole hotel was being searched very carefully when I left." +</p> +<p> +There was a knock at the door. Mr. Jarvis, who had been unable to +restrain his curiosity any longer, brought some letters in for +signature. +</p> +<p> +"If you can spare a moment, sir," he began, apologetically, "there +is this little matter of Bland & Company's order. I have brought the +reports with me." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_66" id="Pg_66"></a>Mr. Weatherley felt his feet upon the ground again. He turned to +the papers which his clerk laid before him and gave them his close +attention. When Arnold would have left the room, however, he signed +impatiently to him to remain. As soon as he had given his +instructions, and Mr. Jarvis had left the room, he turned once more +to Arnold. +</p> +<p> +"Chetwode," he said, looking at him critically, "you appear to me to +be a young man of athletic build." +</p> +<p> +Arnold was quite speechless. +</p> +<p> +"I mean that you could hold your own in a tussle, eh? You look +strong enough to knock any one down who attempted to take liberties +with you." +</p> +<p> +Arnold smiled. +</p> +<p> +"I dare say I might manage that, sir," he admitted. +</p> +<p> +"Very well—very well, then," Mr. Weatherley repeated. "Have your +desk moved in here at once, Chetwode. You can have it placed just +where you like. You'll get the light from that window if you have +the easy-chair moved and put in the corner there against the wall. +Understand that from now on you are my private secretary, and you do +not leave this room, whoever may come in to see me, except by my +special instructions. You understand that, eh?" +</p> +<p> +"Perfectly, sir." +</p> +<p> +"Your business is to protect me, in case of anything happening—of +any disagreeable visitors, or anything of that sort," Mr. Weatherley +declared. "This affair of Mr. Rosario has made me nervous. There is +a very dangerous gang of people about who try to get money from rich +men, and, if they don't succeed, use violence. I have already come +into contact with some<a name="Pg_67" id="Pg_67"></a>thing of the sort myself. Your salary—what +do you get at present?" +</p> +<p> +"Twenty-eight shillings a week, sir." +</p> +<p> +"Double it," Mr. Weatherley ordered promptly. "Three pounds a week I +will make it. For three pounds a week I may rely upon your constant +and zealous service?" +</p> +<p> +"You may rely absolutely on that," Arnold replied, not quite sure +whether he was on his head or his feet. +</p> +<p> +"Very well, then, go and tell some of the porters to bring in your +desk. Have it brought in this very moment. Understand, if you +please, that it is my wish not to be left alone under any +circumstances—that is quite clear, isn't it?—not under any +circumstances! I have heard some most disquieting stories about +black-mailers and that sort of people." +</p> +<p> +"I don't think you need fear anything of the sort here," Arnold +assured him. +</p> +<p> +"I trust not," Mr. Weatherley asserted, "but I prefer to be on the +right side. As regards firearms," he continued, "I have never +carried them, nor am I accustomed to handling them. At the same +time,—" +</p> +<p> +"I wouldn't bother about firearms, if I were you, sir," Arnold +interrupted. "I can promise you that while I am in this office no +one will touch you or harm you in any way. I would rather rely upon +my fists any day." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley nodded. +</p> +<p> +"I am glad to hear you say so. A strong young man like you need have +no fear, of course. You understand, Chetwode, not a word in the +outer office." +</p> +<p> +"Certainly not, sir," Arnold promised. "You can <a name="Pg_68" id="Pg_68"></a>rely entirely upon +my discretion. You will perhaps tell Mr. Jarvis that I am to do my +work in here. Fortunately, I know a little shorthand, so if you like +I can take the letters down. It will make my presence seem more +reasonable." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley leaned back in his chair and lit a cigar. He was +recovering slowly. +</p> +<p> +"A very good idea, Chetwode," he said. "I will certainly inform Mr. +Jarvis. Poor Rosario!" he went on thoughtfully. "And to think that +he might have been warned. If only I had told you to wait outside +the restaurant!" +</p> +<p> +"Do you know who it was who telephoned to you, sir?" Arnold asked. +</p> +<p> +"No idea—no idea at all," Mr. Weatherley declared. "Some one rang +up and told me that Mr. Rosario was engaged to lunch in the Grill +Room with my wife. I don't know who it was—didn't recognize the +voice from Adam—but the person went on to say that it would be a +very great service indeed to Mr. Rosario if some one could stop him +from lunching there to-day. Can't think why they telephoned to me." +</p> +<p> +"If Mr. Rosario were lunching with your wife," Arnold pointed out, +"it would be perfectly easy for her to get him to go somewhere else +if she knew of the message, whereas he might have refused an +ordinary warning." +</p> +<p> +"You haven't heard the motive even hinted at, I suppose?" Mr. +Weatherley asked. +</p> +<p> +"Not as yet," Arnold replied. "That may all come out at the +inquest." +</p> +<p> +"To be sure," Mr. Weatherley admitted. "At the inquest—yes, yes! +Poor Rosario!" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_69" id="Pg_69"></a>He watched the smoke from his cigar curl up to the ceiling. Then he +turned to some papers on his table. +</p> +<p> +"Get your desk in, Chetwode," he ordered, "and then take down some +letters. The American mail goes early this afternoon." +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0010"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_70" id="Pg_70"></a>CHAPTER IX +</h2> +<h3> + A STRAINED CONVERSATION +</h3> +<p> +Arnold swung around the corner of the terrace that evening with +footsteps still eager notwithstanding his long walk. The splendid +egoism of youth had already triumphed, the tragedy of the day had +become a dim thing. He himself was moving forward and onward. He +glanced up at the familiar window, feeling a slight impulse of +disappointment when he received no welcoming wave of the hand. It +was the first time for weeks that Ruth had not been there. He +climbed the five flights of stone stairs, still buoyant and +light-hearted. Glancing into his own room, he found it empty, then +crossed at once the passageway and knocked at Ruth's door. She was +lying back in her chair, with her back toward the window. +</p> +<p> +"Why, Ruth," he exclaimed, "how dare you desert your post!" +</p> +<p> +He felt at once that there was something strange in her reception of +him. She stopped him as he came across the room, holding out both +her hands. Her wan face was strained as she gazed and gazed. +Something of the beautiful softness of her features had passed for +the moment. She was so anxious, so terrified<a name="Pg_71" id="Pg_71"></a> lest she should +misread what was written in his face. +</p> +<p> +"Arnold!" she murmured. "Oh, Arnold!" +</p> +<p> +He was a little startled. It was as though tragedy had been let +loose in the room. +</p> +<p> +"Why do you look at me like that, dear?" he cried. "Is there +anything so terrible to tell me? What have I done?" +</p> +<p> +"God knows!" she answered. "Don't come any nearer for a moment. I +want to look at you." +</p> +<p> +She was leaning out from her chair. It was true, indeed, that at +that moment some sort of fear had drained all the beauty from her +face, though her eyes shone still like fierce stars. +</p> +<p> +"You have gone, Arnold," she moaned. "You have slipped away. You are +lost to me." +</p> +<p> +"You foolish person!" he exclaimed, stepping towards her. "Never in +my life! Never!" +</p> +<p> +She laid her hand upon the stick which leaned against her chair. +</p> +<p> +"Not yet," she implored. "Don't come to me yet. Stay there where I +can see your face. Now tell me—tell me everything." +</p> +<p> +He laughed, not altogether easily, with a note half of resentment, +half of protest. +</p> +<p> +"Dear Ruth," he pleaded, "what have I done to deserve this? Nothing +has happened to me that I will not tell you about. You have been +sitting here alone, fancying things. And I have news—great news! +Wait till you hear it." +</p> +<p> +"Go on," she said, simply. "Tell me everything. Begin at last +night." +</p> +<p> +He drew a little breath. It was, after all, a hard <a name="Pg_72" id="Pg_72"></a>task, this, that +lay before him. Last night in his mind lay far enough back now, a +tangled web of disconnected episodes, linked together by a strangely +sweet emotional thread of sentiment. And the girl was watching his +face with every sense strained to catch his words and the meaning of +them. Vaguely he felt his danger, even from the first. +</p> +<p> +"Well, I got there in plenty of time," he began. "It was a beautiful +house, beautifully furnished and arranged. The people were queer, +not at all the sort I expected. Most of them seemed half foreign. +They were all very hard to place for such a respectable household as +Mr. Weatherley's should be." +</p> +<p> +"They were not really, then, Mr. Weatherley's friends?" she asked +quietly. +</p> +<p> +"As a matter of fact, they were not," he admitted. "That may have +had something to do with it. Mrs. Weatherley was a foreigner. She +came from a little island somewhere in the Mediterranean, and is +half Portuguese. Most of the people were there apparently by her +invitation. After dinner—such a dinner, Ruth—we played bridge. +More people came then. I think there were eight tables altogether. +After I left, most of them stayed on to play baccarat." +</p> +<p> +Her eyes still held his. Her expression was unchanged. +</p> +<p> +"Tell me about Mrs. Weatherley," she murmured. +</p> +<p> +"She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She is pale and +she has strange brown eyes, not really brown but lighter. I couldn't +tell you the color for I've never seen anything else like it. And +she has real red-brown hair, and she is slim, and she walks like one +of these women one reads about. They say that she is <a name="Pg_73" id="Pg_73"></a>a Comtesse in +her own right but that she never uses the title." +</p> +<p> +"And was she kind?" asked Ruth. +</p> +<p> +"Very kind indeed. She talked to me quite a good deal and I played +bridge at her table. It seems the most amazing thing in the world +that she should ever have married a man like Samuel Weatherley." +</p> +<p> +"Now tell me the rest," she persisted. "Something else has +happened—I am sure of it." +</p> +<p> +He dropped his voice a little. The terror was coming into the room. +</p> +<p> +"There was a man there named Rosario—a Portuguese Jew and a very +wealthy financier. One reads about him always in the papers. I have +heard of him many times. He negotiates loans for foreign governments +and has a bank of his own. I left him there last night, playing +baccarat. This morning Mr. Weatherley called me into his office and +sent me up to the Milan Restaurant with a strange message. I was to +find Mr. Rosario and to see that he did not lunch there—to send him +away somewhere else, in fact. I didn't understand it, but of course +I went." +</p> +<p> +"And what happened?" she demanded. +</p> +<p> +He held his breath for a moment. +</p> +<p> +"I was to take a table just inside the restaurant," he explained, +"and to tell him directly he entered. I did exactly as I was told, +but it was too late. Rosario was stabbed as he was on the point of +entering the restaurant, within a few yards of where I was sitting." +</p> +<p> +She shivered a little, although her general expression was still +unchanged. +</p> +<p> +"You mean that he was murdered?" +</p> +<p> +"He was killed upon the spot," Arnold declared. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_74" id="Pg_74"></a>"By whom?" +</p> +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"No one knows. The man got away. I bought an evening paper as I came +along and I see they haven't arrested any one yet." +</p> +<p> +"Was there a quarrel?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"Nothing of the sort," he replied. "The other man seemed simply to +have run out from somewhere and stabbed him with one thrust. I saw +it all but I was powerless to interfere." +</p> +<p> +"You saw the man who did it?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"Only his arm," Arnold answered. "He kept his body twisted around +somehow. It was a blackguardly thing to do." +</p> +<p> +"It was horrible!" she murmured. +</p> +<p> +There was an interruption. The piece of tattered curtain which +concealed the portion of the room given over to Isaac, and which led +beyond to his sleeping chamber, was flung on one side. Isaac himself +stood there, his black eyes alight with anger. +</p> +<p> +"Liar!" he exclaimed. "Liars, both of you!" +</p> +<p> +They looked at him without speech, his interruption was so sudden, +so unexpected. The girl had forgotten his presence in the room; +Arnold had never been conscious of it. +</p> +<p> +"I tell you that Rosario was a robber of mankind," Isaac cried. "He +was one of those who feed upon the bones of the poor. His place was +in Hell and into Hell he has gone. Honor to the hand which started +him on his journey!" +</p> +<p> +"You go too far, Isaac," Arnold protested. "I never heard any +particular harm of the man except that he was immensely wealthy." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_75" id="Pg_75"></a>Isaac stretched out his thin hand. His bony forefinger pointed +menacingly towards Arnold. +</p> +<p> +"You fool!" he cried. "You brainless creature of brawn and muscle! +You have heard no harm of him save that he was immensely wealthy! +Listen. Bear that sentence in your mind and listen to me, listen +while I tell you a story. A party of travelers was crossing the +desert. They lost their way. One man only had water, heaps of water. +There was enough in his possession for all, enough and to spare. The +sun beat upon their heads, their throats were parched, their lips +were black, they foamed at the mouth. On their knees they begged and +prayed for water; he took not even the trouble to reply. He kept +himself cool and refreshed with his endless supply; he poured it +upon his head, he bathed his lips and drank. So he passed on, and +the people around died, cursing him. Last of all, one who had seen +his wife sob out her last breath in his arms, more terrible still +had heard his little child shriek with agony, clutch at him and pray +for water—he saw the truth, and what power there is above so guided +his arm that he struck. The man paid the just price for his colossal +greed. The vultures plucked his heart out in the desert. So died +Rosario!" +</p> +<p> +Arnold shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"The cases are not similar, Isaac," he declared. +</p> +<p> +"You lie!" Isaac shrieked. "There is not a hair's-breadth of +difference! Rosario earned his wealth in an office hung with costly +pictures; he earned it lounging in ease in a padded chair, earned it +by the monkey tricks of a dishonest brain. Never an honest day's +work did he perform in his life, never a day did he stand in the +market-place where the weaker were falling day by day. <a name="Pg_76" id="Pg_76"></a>In fat +comfort he lived, and he died fittingly on the portals of a +restaurant, the cost of one meal at which would have fed a dozen +starving children. Pity Rosario! Pity his soul, if you will, but not +his dirty body!" +</p> +<p> +"The man is dead," Arnold muttered. +</p> +<p> +"Dead, and let him rot!" Isaac cried fiercely. "There may be +others!" +</p> +<p> +He caught up his cloth cap and, without another word, left the room. +Arnold looked after him curiously, more than a little impressed by +the man's passionate earnestness. Ruth, on the other hand, was +unmoved. +</p> +<p> +"Isaac is Isaac," she murmured. "He sees life like that. He would +wear the flesh off his bones preaching against wealth. It is as +though there were some fire inside which consumed him all the time. +When he comes back, he will be calmer." +</p> +<p> +But Arnold remained uneasy. Isaac's words, and his attitude of +pent-up fury, had made a singular impression upon him. For those few +moments, the Hyde Park demagogue with his frothy vaporings existed +no longer. It seemed to Arnold as though a flash of the real fire +had suddenly blazed into the room. +</p> +<p> +"If Isaac goes about the world like that, trouble will come of it," +he said thoughtfully. "Have you ever heard him speak of Rosario +before?" +</p> +<p> +"Never," she answered. "I have heard him talk like that, though, +often. To me it sounds like the waves beating upon the shores. They +may rage as furiously, or ripple as softly as the tides can bring +them,—it makes no difference ... I want you to go on, please. I +want you to finish telling me—your news." +</p> +<p> +Arnold looked away from the closed door. He <a name="Pg_77" id="Pg_77"></a>looked back again into +the girl's face. There was still that appearance of strained +attention about her mouth and eyes. +</p> +<p> +"You are right," he admitted. "These things, after all, are terrible +enough, but they are like the edge of a storm from which one has +found shelter. Isaac ought to realize it." +</p> +<p> +"Tell me what this is which has happened to you!" she begged. +</p> +<p> +He shook himself free from that cloud of memories. He gave himself +up instead to the joy of telling her his good news. +</p> +<p> +"Listen, then," he said. "Mr. Weatherley, in consideration not +altogether, I am afraid, of my clerklike abilities, but of my +shoulders and muscle, has appointed me his private secretary, with a +seat in his office and a salary of three pounds a week. Think of it, +Ruth! Three pounds a week!" +</p> +<p> +A smile lightened her face for a moment as she squeezed his fingers. +</p> +<p> +"But why?" she asked. "What do you mean about your shoulders and +your muscle?" +</p> +<p> +"It is all very mysterious," he declared, "but do you know I believe +Mr. Weatherley is afraid. He shook like a leaf when I told him of +the murder of Rosario. I believe he thinks that there was some sort +of blackmailing plot and he is afraid that something of the kind +might happen to him. My instructions are never to leave his office, +especially if he is visited by any strangers." +</p> +<p> +"It sounds absurd," she remarked. "I should have thought that of all +the commonplace, unimaginative people you have ever described to me, +Mr. Weatherley was supreme." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_78" id="Pg_78"></a>"And I," Arnold agreed. "And so, in a way, he is. It is his +marriage which seems to have transformed him—I feel sure of that. +He is mixing now with people whose manners and ways of thinking are +entirely strange to him. He has had the world he knew of kicked from +beneath his feet, and is hanging on instead to the fringe of +another, of which he knows very little." +</p> +<p> +Ruth was silent. All the time Arnold was conscious that she was +watching him. He turned his head. Her mouth was once more set and +strained, a delicate streak of scarlet upon the pallor of her face, +but from the fierce questioning of her eyes there was no escape. +</p> +<p> +"What is it you want to know that I have not told you, Ruth?" he +asked. +</p> +<p> +"Tell me what happened to you last night!" +</p> +<p> +He laughed boisterously, but with a flagrant note of insincerity. +</p> +<p> +"Haven't I been telling you all the time?" +</p> +<p> +"You've kept something back," she panted, gripping his fingers +frantically, "the greatest thing. Speak about it. Anything is better +than this silence. Don't you remember your promise before you +went—you would tell me everything—everything! Well?" +</p> +<p> +Her words pierced the armor of his own self-deceit. The bare room +seemed suddenly full of glowing images of Fenella. His face was +transfigured. +</p> +<p> +"I haven't told you very much about Mrs. Weatherley," he said, +simply. "She is very wonderful and very beautiful. She was very kind +to me, too." +</p> +<p> +Ruth leaned forward in her chair; her eyes read what she strove yet +hated to see. She threw herself suddenly back, covering her face +with her hands. The strain was over. She began to weep. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0011"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_79" id="Pg_79"></a>CHAPTER X +</h2> +<h3> + AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR +</h3> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley laid down his newspaper with a grunt. He was alone in +his private office with his newly appointed secretary. +</p> +<p> +"Two whole days gone already and they've never caught that fellow!" +he exclaimed. "They don't seem to have a clue, even." +</p> +<p> +Arnold looked up from some papers upon which he was engaged. +</p> +<p> +"We can't be absolutely sure of that, sir," he reminded his +employer. "They wouldn't give everything away to the Press." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley threw the newspaper which he had been reading onto +the floor, and struck the table with his fist. +</p> +<p> +"The whole affair," he declared, "is scandalous—perfectly +scandalous. The police system of this country is ridiculously +inadequate. Scotland Yard ought to be thoroughly overhauled. Some +one should take the matter up—one of the ha'penny papers on the +lookout for a sensation might manage it. Just see here what +happens," he went on earnestly. "A man is murdered in cold blood in +a fashionable restaurant. The murderer<a name="Pg_80" id="Pg_80"></a> simply walks out of the +place into the street and no one hears of him again. He can't have +been swallowed up, can he? You were there, Chetwode. What do you +think of it?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold, who had been thinking of little else for the last few days, +shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know what to think, sir," he admitted, "except that the +murderer up till now has been extraordinarily lucky." +</p> +<p> +"Either that or he was fiendishly clever," Mr. Weatherley agreed, +pulling nervously at his little patch of gray sidewhiskers. "I +wonder, now—you've read the case, Chetwode?" +</p> +<p> +"Every word of it," Arnold admitted. +</p> +<p> +"Have you formed any idea yourself as to the motive?" Mr. Weatherley +asked nervously. +</p> +<p> +Arnold shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"At present there seems nothing to go on, sir," he remarked. "I did +hear it said that some one was trying to blackmail him and Mr. +Rosario wasn't having any." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley pushed his scant hair back with his hand. He appeared +to feel the heat of the office. +</p> +<p> +"You've heard that, too, eh?" he muttered. "It occurred to me from +the first, Chetwode. It certainly did occur to me. You will remember +that I mentioned it." +</p> +<p> +"What did your brother-in-law think of it, sir?" Arnold asked. "He +and Mr. Rosario seemed to be very great friends. They were talking +together for a long time that night at your house." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley jumped to his feet and threw open the window. The air +which entered the office from the <a name="Pg_81" id="Pg_81"></a>murky street was none of the +best, but he seemed to find it welcome. Arnold was shocked to see +his face when he turned around. +</p> +<p> +"The Count Sabatini is a very extraordinary man," Mr. Weatherley +confessed. "He and his friends come to my house, but to tell you the +truth I don't know much about them. Mrs. Weatherley wishes to have +them there and that is quite enough for me. All the same, I don't +feel that they're exactly the sort of people I've been used to, +Chetwode, and that's a fact." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley had resumed his seat. He was leaning back in his +chair now, his hands drooping to his side, looking precisely what he +was—an ungraceful, commonplace little person, without taste or +culture, upon whom even a good tailor seemed to have wasted +his efforts. A certain pomposity which in a way became the +man—proclaimed his prosperity and redeemed him from complete +insignificance—had for a moment departed. He was like a pricked +bladder. Arnold could scarcely help feeling sorry for him. +</p> +<p> +"I shouldn't allow these things to worry me, if I were you, sir," +Arnold suggested respectfully. "If there is anything which you don't +understand, I should ask for an explanation. Mrs. Weatherley is much +too kind and generous to wish you to be worried, I am sure." +</p> +<p> +Then the side of the man with which Arnold wholly sympathized showed +itself suddenly. At the mention of his wife's name an expression +partly fatuous, partly beatific, transformed his homely features. He +was looking at her picture which stood always opposite him. He had +the air of an adoring devotee before some sacred shrine. +</p> +<p> +"<a name="Pg_82" id="Pg_82"></a>You are quite right, Chetwode," he declared, "quite right, but I +am always very careful not to let my wife know how I feel. You see, +the Count Sabatini is her only relative, and before our marriage +they were inseparable. He was an exile from Portugal and it seems to +me these foreigners hang on together more than we do. I am only too +glad for her to be with him as much as she chooses. It is just a +little unfortunate that his friends should sometimes be—well, a +trifle distasteful, but—one must put up with it. One must put up +with it, eh? After all, Rosario was a man very well spoken of. There +was no reason why he shouldn't have come to my house. Plenty of +other men in my position would have been glad to have entertained +him." +</p> +<p> +"Certainly, sir," agreed Arnold. "I believe he went a great deal +into society." +</p> +<p> +"And, no doubt," Mr. Weatherley continued, eagerly, "he had many +enemies. In the course of his commercial career, which I believe was +an eventful one, he would naturally make enemies.... By the bye, +Chetwode, speaking of blackmail—that blackmail rumor, eh? You don't +happen to have heard any particulars?" +</p> +<p> +"None at all, sir," replied Arnold. "I don't suppose anything is +really known. It seems a probable solution of the affair, though." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley nodded thoughtfully. +</p> +<p> +"It does," he admitted. "I can quite imagine any one trying it on +and Rosario defying him. Just the course which would commend itself +to such a man." +</p> +<p> +"The proper course, no doubt," Arnold remarked, "although it +scarcely turned out the best for poor Mr. Rosario." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_83" id="Pg_83"></a>Mr. Weatherley distinctly shivered. +</p> +<p> +"Well, well," he declared, "you had better take out those invoices, +and ask Jarvis to see me at once about Budden & Williams' +account.... God bless my soul alive, why, here's Mrs. Weatherley!" +</p> +<p> +A car had stopped outside and both men had caught a vision of a +fur-clad feminine figure crossing the pavement. Mr. Weatherley's +fingers, busy already with his tie, were trembling with excitement. +His whole appearance was transformed. +</p> +<p> +"Hurry out and meet her, Chetwode!" he exclaimed. "Show her the way +in! This is the first time in her life she has been here of her own +accord. Just as we were speaking about her, too!" +</p> +<p> +Fenella entered the office as a princess shod in satin might enter a +pigsty. Her ermine-trimmed gown was raised with both her hands, her +delightful nose had a distinct tilt and her lips a curl. But when +she saw Arnold, a wonderful smile transformed her face. She was in +the middle of the clerk's office, the cynosure of twenty-four +staring eyes, but she dropped her gown and held out both her +delicately gloved hands. The fall of her skirts seemed to shake out +strange perfumes into the stuffy room. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! you are really here, then, in this odious gloom? You will show +me where I can find my husband?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold stepped back and threw open the door of the inner office. She +laughed into his face. +</p> +<p> +"Do not go away," she ordered. "Come in with me. I want to thank you +for looking after me the other day." +</p> +<p> +Arnold murmured a few words of excuse and turned <a name="Pg_84" id="Pg_84"></a>away. Mr. Tidey +Junior carefully arranged his necktie and slipped down from his +stool. +</p> +<p> +"Jarvis," he exclaimed, "a free lunch and my lifetime's gratitude if +you'll send me into the governor's office on any pretext whatever!" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis, who was answering the telephone, took off his +gold-rimmed spectacles and wiped them. +</p> +<p> +"Some one must go in and say that Mr. Burland, of Harris & Burland, +wishes to know at what time he can see the governor. I think you had +better let Chetwode go, though." +</p> +<p> +The young man turned away, humming a tune. +</p> +<p> +"Not I!" he replied. "Don't be surprised, you fellows, if I am not +out just yet. The governor's certain to introduce me." +</p> +<p> +He knocked at the door confidently and disappeared. In a very few +seconds he was out again. His appearance was not altogether +indicative of conquest. +</p> +<p> +"Governor says Burland can go to the devil, or words to that +effect," he announced, ill-naturedly. "Chetwode, you're to take in +the private cheque book.... I tell you what, Jarvis," he added, +slowly resuming his stool, "the governor's not himself these days. +The least he could have done would have been to introduce me, +especially as he's been up at our place so often. Rotten form, I +call it. Anyway, she's not nearly so good-looking close to." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis proceeded to inform the inquirer through the telephone +that Mr. Weatherley was unfortunately not to be found at the moment. +Arnold, with Mr. Weatherley's cheque book in his hand, knocked at +the door of the private office and closed the door carefully behind +him. As he stood upon the threshold, his heart <a name="Pg_85" id="Pg_85"></a>gave a sudden leap. +Mr. Weatherley was sitting in his accustomed chair, but his attitude +and expression were alike unusual. He was like a man shrinking under +the whip. And Fenella—he was quick enough to catch the look in her +face, the curl of her lips, the almost wicked flash of her eyes. Yet +in a moment she was laughing. +</p> +<p> +"Your cheque book, Mr. Weatherley," he remarked, laying it down upon +the desk. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley barely thanked him—barely, indeed, seemed to realize +Arnold's presence. The latter turned to go. Fenella, however, +intervened. +</p> +<p> +"Don't go away, if you please, Mr. Chetwode," she begged. "My +husband is angry with me and I am a little frightened. And all +because I have asked him to help a very good friend of mine who is +in need of money to help forward a splendid cause." +</p> +<p> +Arnold was embarrassed. He glanced doubtfully at Mr. Weatherley, who +was fingering his cheque book. +</p> +<p> +"It is scarcely a matter for discussion—" his employer began, but +Fenella threw out her hands. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! la, la!" she interrupted. "Don't bore me so, my dear Samuel, or +I will come to this miserable place no more. Mr. Starling must have +this five hundred pounds because I have promised him, and because I +have promised my brother that he shall have it. It is most +important, and if all goes well it will come back to you some day or +other. If not, you must make up your mind to lose it. Please write +out the cheque, and afterwards Mr. Chetwode is to take me out to +lunch. Andrea asked me especially to bring him, and if we do not go +soon," she added, consulting a little jeweled watch upon her wrist, +"we shall be late. Andrea does not like to be kept waiting." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_86" id="Pg_86"></a>"I was hoping," Mr. Weatherley remarked, with an unwieldy attempt +at jocularity, "that I might be asked out to luncheon myself." +</p> +<p> +"Another day, my dear husband," she promised carelessly. "You know +that you and Andrea do not agree very well. You bore him so much and +then he is irritable. I do not like Andrea when he is irritable. +Give me my cheque, dear, and let me go." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley dipped his pen in the ink, solemnly wrote out a +cheque and tore it from the book. Fenella, who had risen to her feet +and was standing over him with her hand upon his shoulder, stuffed +it carelessly into the gold purse which she was carrying. Then she +patted him on the cheek with her gloved hand. +</p> +<p> +"Don't overwork," she said, "and come home punctually. Are you quite +ready, Mr. Chetwode?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold, who was finding the position more than ever embarrassing, +turned to his employer. +</p> +<p> +"Can you spare me, sir?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley nodded. +</p> +<p> +"If my wife desires you to go, certainly," he replied. "But +Fenella," he added, "I am not very busy myself. Is it absolutely +necessary that you lunch with your brother? Perhaps, even if it is, +he can put up with my society for once." +</p> +<p> +She threw a kiss to him from the door. +</p> +<p> +"Unreasonable person!" she exclaimed. "To-day it is absolutely +necessary that I lunch with Andrea. You must go to your club if you +are not busy, and play billiards or something. Come, Mr. Chetwode," +she added, turning towards the door, "we have barely a quarter of an +hour to get to the Carlton. I dare not be late. The only person," +she went on, as they passed through <a name="Pg_87" id="Pg_87"></a>the outer office and Arnold +paused for a moment to take down his hat and coat, "whom I really +fear in this world is Andrea." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley remained for a moment in the chair where she had left +him, gazing idly at the counterfoil of the cheque. Then he rose and +from a safe point of vantage watched the car drive off. With slow, +leaden footsteps he returned to his seat. It was past his own +regular luncheon hour, but he made no movement to leave the place. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0012"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_88" id="Pg_88"></a>CHAPTER XI +</h2> +<h3> + AN INTERRUPTED LUNCHEON +</h3> +<p> +The great car swung to the right, out of Tooley Street and joined +the stream of traffic making its slow way across London Bridge. +Fenella took the tube from its place by her side and spoke in +Italian to the chauffeur. When she replaced it, she turned to +Arnold. +</p> +<p> +"Do you understand what I said?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"Only a word or two," he replied. "You told him to go somewhere else +instead of to the Carlton, didn't you?" +</p> +<p> +She nodded, and lay back for a moment, silent, among the luxurious +cushions. Her mood seemed suddenly to have changed. She was no +longer gay. She watched the faces of the passers-by pensively. +Presently she pointed out of the window to a gray-bearded old man +tottering along in the gutter with a trayful of matches. A cold wind +was blowing through his rags. +</p> +<p> +"Look!" she exclaimed. "Look at that! In my own country, yes, but +here I do not understand. They tell me that this is the richest city +in the world, and the most charitable." +</p> +<p> +"There must be poor everywhere," Arnold replied, a little puzzled. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_89" id="Pg_89"></a>She stared at him. +</p> +<p> +"It is not your laws I would complain of," she said. "It is your +individuals. Look at him—a poor, shivering, starved creature, +watching a constant stream of well-fed, well-clothed, smug men of +business, passing always within a few feet of him. Why does he not +help himself to what he wants?" +</p> +<p> +"How can he?" Arnold asked. "There is a policeman within a few yards +of him. The law stands always in the way." +</p> +<p> +"The law!" she repeated, scornfully. "It is a pleasant word, that, +which you use. The law is the artificial bogey made by the men who +possess to keep those others in the gutter. And they tell me that +there are half a million of them in London—and they suffer—like +that. Could your courts of justice hold half a million law-breakers +who took an overcoat from a better clad man, or the price of a meal +from a sleek passer-by, or bread from the shop which taunted their +hunger? They do not know their strength, those who suffer." +</p> +<p> +Arnold looked at her in sheer amazement. It was surely a strange +woman who spoke! There was no sympathy in her face or tone. The idea +of giving alms to the man seemed never to have occurred to her. She +spoke with clouded face, as one in anger. +</p> +<p> +"Don't you believe," he asked, "in the universal principle, the +survival of the fittest? Where there is wealth there must be +poverty." +</p> +<p> +She laughed. +</p> +<p> +"Change your terms," she suggested; "where there are robbers there +must be victims. But one may despise the victims all the same. One +may find their content, or rather their inaction, ignoble." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_90" id="Pg_90"></a>"Generally speaking, it is the industrious who prosper," he +affirmed. +</p> +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"If that were so, all would be well," she declared. "As a matter of +fact, it is entirely an affair of opportunity and temperament." +</p> +<p> +"Why, you are a socialist," he said. "You should come and talk to my +friend Isaac." +</p> +<p> +"I am not a socialist because I do not care one fig about others," +she objected. "It is only myself I think of." +</p> +<p> +"If you do not sympathize with laws, you at least recognize morals?" +</p> +<p> +She laughed gayly, leaning back against the dark green upholstery +and showing her flawless teeth; her long, narrow eyes with their +seductive gleam flashed into his. A lighter spirit possessed her. +</p> +<p> +"Not other people's," she declared. "I have my own code and I live +by it. As for you,—" +</p> +<p> +She paused. Her sudden fit of gayety seemed to pass. +</p> +<p> +"As for me?" he murmured. +</p> +<p> +"I am a little conscience-stricken," she said slowly. "I think I +ought to have left you where you were. I am not at all sure that you +would not have been happier. You are a very nice boy, Mr. Arnold +Chetwode, much too good for that stuffy little office in Tooley +Street, but I do not know whether it is really for your good if one +is inclined to try and help you to escape. If you saw another man +holding a position you wanted yourself, would you throw him out, if +you could, by sheer force, or would you think of your laws and your +morals?" +</p> +<p> +"It depends a little upon how much I wanted it," he confessed. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_91" id="Pg_91"></a>She laughed. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! I see, then, that there are hopes of you," she admitted. "You +should read the reign of Queen Elizabeth if you would know what +Englishmen should be like. You know, I had an English mother, and +she was descended from Francis Drake.... Ah, we are arrived!" +</p> +<p> +They had lost themselves somewhere between Oxford Street and Regent +Street. The car pulled up in front of a restaurant which Arnold had +certainly never seen or heard of before. It was quite small, and it +bore the name "Café André" painted upon the wall. The lower windows +were all concealed by white curtains. The entrance hall was small, +and there was no commissionnaire. Fenella, who led the way in, did +not turn into the restaurant but at once ascended the stairs. Arnold +followed her, his sense of curiosity growing stronger at every +moment. On the first landing there were two doors with glass tops. +She opened one and motioned him to enter. +</p> +<p> +"Will you wait for me for a few moments?" she said. "I am going to +telephone." +</p> +<p> +He entered at once. She turned and passed into the room on the other +side of the landing. Arnold glanced around him with some curiosity. +The room was well appointed and a luncheon table was laid for four +people. There were flowers upon the table, and the glass and cutlery +were superior to anything one might have expected from a restaurant +in this vicinity. The window looked down into the street. Arnold +stood before it for a moment or two. The traffic below was +insignificant, but the roar of Oxford Street, only a few yards +distant, came to his ears even through the closed window. He +listened thoughtfully, and then, before he <a name="Pg_92" id="Pg_92"></a>realized the course his +thoughts were taking, he found himself thinking of Ruth. In a +certain sense he was superstitious about Ruth and her forebodings. +He found himself wondering what she would have said if she could +have seen him there and known that it was Fenella who had brought +him. And he himself—what did he think of it? A week ago, his life +had been so commonplace that his head and his heart had ached with +the monotony of it. And now Fenella had come and had shown him +already strange things. He seemed to have passed into a world where +mysterious happenings were an every-day occurrence, into a world +peopled by strange men and women who always carried secrets about +with them. And, in a sense, no one was more mysterious than Fenella +herself. He asked himself as he stood there whether her vagaries +were merely temperamental, the air of mystery which seemed to +surround her simply accidental. He thought of that night at her +house, the curious intimacy which from the first moment she had +seemed to take for granted, the confidence with which she had +treated him. He remembered those few breathless moments in her room, +the man's hand upon the window-sill, with the strange colored ring, +worn with almost flagrant ostentation. And then, with a +lightning-like transition of thought, the gleam of the hand with +that self-same ring, raised to strike a murderous blow, which he had +seen for a moment through the doors of the Milan. The red seal ring +upon the finger—what did it mean? A doubt chilled him for a moment. +He told himself with passionate insistence, that it was not possible +that she could know of these things. Her words were idle, her +theories a jest. He turned away from the window and caught <a name="Pg_93" id="Pg_93"></a>up a +morning paper, resolved to escape from his thoughts. The first +headline stared up at him: +</p> +<p class="center"> + + <span class="sc"> the rosario murder.<br /> + sensational arrest expected.<br /> + rumored extraordinary disclosures.</span> + +</p> +<p class="noindent"> +He threw the paper down again. Then the door was suddenly opened, +and Fenella appeared. She rang a bell. +</p> +<p> +"I am going to order luncheon," she announced. "My brother will be +here directly." +</p> +<p> +Arnold bowed, a little absently. Against his will, he was listening +to voices on the landing outside. One he knew to be Starling's, the +other was Count Sabatini's. He closed his ears to their speech, but +there was no doubt whatever that the voice of Starling shook with +fear. A moment or two later the two men entered the room. Count +Sabatini came forward with outstretched hand. A rare smile parted +his lips. He looked a very distinguished and very polished +gentleman. +</p> +<p> +"I am pleased to meet you again, Mr. Chetwode," he said, "the more +pleased because I understand from my sister that we are to have the +pleasure of your company for luncheon." +</p> +<p> +"You are very kind," Arnold murmured. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Starling—I believe that you met the other night," Count +Sabatini continued. +</p> +<p> +Arnold held out his hand but could scarcely repress a start. +Starling seemed to have lost weight. His cheeks were almost +cadaverous, his eyes hollow. His slight arrogance of bearing had +gone; he gave one a most unpleasant impression. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_94" id="Pg_94"></a>"I remember Mr. Starling quite well," Arnold said. "We met also, I +think, at the Milan Hotel, a few minutes after the murder of Mr. +Rosario." +</p> +<p> +Starling shook hands limply. Sabatini smiled. +</p> +<p> +"A memorable occasion," he remarked. "Let us take luncheon now. +Gustave," he added, turning to the waiter who had just entered the +room, "serve the luncheon at once. It is a queer little place, this, +Mr. Chetwode," he went on, turning to Arnold, "but I can promise you +that the omelette, at least, is as served in my own country." +</p> +<p> +They took their places at the table, and Arnold, at any rate, found +it a very pleasant party. Sabatini was no longer gloomy and +taciturn. His manner still retained a little of its deliberation, +but towards Arnold especially he was more than courteous. He seemed, +indeed, to have the desire to attract. Fenella was almost +bewitching. She had recovered her spirits, and she talked to him +often in a half audible undertone, the familiarity of which gave him +a curious pleasure. Starling alone was silent and depressed. He +drank a good deal, but ate scarcely anything. Every passing footstep +upon the stairs outside alarmed him; every time voices were heard he +stopped to listen. Sabatini glanced towards him once with a scornful +flash in his black eyes. +</p> +<p> +"One would imagine, my dear Starling, that you had committed a +crime!" he exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +Starling raised his glass to his lips with shaking fingers, and +drained its contents. +</p> +<p> +"I had too much champagne last night," he muttered. +</p> +<p> +There was a moment's silence. Every one felt his statement to be a +lie. For some reason or other, the man <a name="Pg_95" id="Pg_95"></a>was afraid. Arnold was +conscious of a sense of apprehension stealing over him. The touch of +Fenella's fingers upon his arm left him, for a moment, cold. +Sabatini turned his head slowly towards the speaker, and his face +had become like the face of an inquisitor, stern and merciless, with +the flavor of death in the cold, mirthless parting of the lips. +</p> +<p> +"Then you drank a very bad brand, my friend," he declared. "Still, +even then, the worst champagne in the world should not give you +those ugly lines under the eyes, the scared appearance of a hunted +rabbit. One would imagine—" +</p> +<p> +Starling struck the table a blow with his fist which set the glasses +jingling. +</p> +<p> +"D—n it, stop, Sabatini!" he exclaimed. "Do you want to—" +</p> +<p> +He broke off abruptly. He looked towards Arnold. He was breathing +heavily. His sudden fit of passion had brought an unwholesome flush +of color to his cheeks. +</p> +<p> +"Why should I stop?" Sabatini proceeded, mercilessly. "Let me remind +you of my sister's presence. Your lack of self-control is +inexcusable. One would imagine that you had committed some evil +deed, that you were indeed an offender against the law." +</p> +<p> +Again there was that tense silence. Starling looked around him with +the helpless air of a trapped animal. Arnold sat there, listening +and watching, completely fascinated. There was something which made +him shiver about the imperturbability, not only of Sabatini himself, +but of the woman who sat by his side. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini poured himself out a glass of wine deliberately. +</p> +<p> +"Who in the world," he demanded, "save a few <a name="Pg_96" id="Pg_96"></a>unwholesome +sentimentalists, would consider the killing of Rosario a crime?" +</p> +<p> +Starling staggered to his feet. His cheeks now were ashen. +</p> +<p> +"You are mad!" he cried, pointing to Arnold. +</p> +<p> +"Not in the least," Sabatini proceeded calmly. "I am not accusing +you of having killed Rosario. In any case, it would have been a +perfectly reasonable and even commendable deed. One can scarcely +understand your agitation. If you are really accused of having been +concerned in that little contretemps, why, here is our friend Mr. +Arnold Chetwode, who was present. No doubt he will be able to give +evidence in your favor." +</p> +<p> +Arnold was speechless for a moment. Sabatini's manner was +incomprehensible. He spoke as one who alludes to some trivial +happening. Yet even his light words could not keep the shadow of +tragedy from the room. Even at that instant Arnold seemed suddenly +to see the flash of a hand through the glass-topped door, to hear +the hoarse cry of the stricken man. +</p> +<p> +"I saw nothing but the man's hand!" he muttered, in a voice which he +would scarcely have recognized as his own. "I saw his hand and his +arm only. He wore a red signet ring." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini inclined his head in an interested manner. +</p> +<p> +"A singular coincidence," he remarked, pleasantly. "My sister has +already told me of your observation. It certainly is a point in +favor of our friend Starling. It sounds like the badge of some +secret society, and not even the most ardent romanticist would +suspect our friend Starling here of belonging to anything of the +sort." +</p> +<p> +Starling had resumed his luncheon, and was making <a name="Pg_97" id="Pg_97"></a>a great effort +at a show of indifference. Nevertheless, he watched Arnold uneasily. +</p> +<p> +"Say, there's no sense in talking like this!" he muttered. "Mr. +Chetwode here will think you're in earnest." +</p> +<p> +"There is, on the contrary, a very great deal of sound common +sense," Sabatini asserted, gently, "in all that I have said. I want +our young friend, Mr. Chetwode, to be a valued witness for the +defense when the misguided gentlemen from Scotland Yard choose to +lay a hand upon your shoulder. One should always be prepared, my +friend, for possibilities. You great—" +</p> +<p> +He stopped short. Starling, with a smothered oath, had sprung to his +feet. The eyes of every one were turned toward the wall; a small +electric bell was ringing violently. For the next few moments, +events marched swiftly. Starling, with incredible speed, had left +the room by the inner door. A waiter had suddenly appeared as though +by magic, and of the fourth place at table there seemed to be left +no visible signs. All the time, Sabatini, unmoved, continued to roll +his cigarette. Then there came a tapping at the door. +</p> +<a name="image-0003"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/img97.jpg" width="475" height="383" +alt="The eyes of every one were turned toward the wall." /> +</center> +<p class="cap">The eyes of every one were turned toward the wall. +<i>Page</i> <a href="#Pg_97">97</a>. +</p> + +<p> +"See who is there," Sabatini instructed the waiter. +</p> +<p> +Gustave, his napkin in his hand, threw open the door. A young man +presented himself—a person of ordinary appearance, with a notebook +sticking out of his pocket. His eyes seemed to take in at once the +little party. He advanced a few steps into the room. +</p> +<p> +"You are perhaps not aware, sir," Sabatini said gently, "that this +is a private apartment." +</p> +<p> +The young man bowed. +</p> +<p> +"I must apologize for my intrusion, sir and madame," he declared, +looking towards Fenella. "I am a reporter <a name="Pg_98" id="Pg_98"></a>on the staff of the +<i>Daily Unit</i>, and I am exceedingly anxious to interview—you will +pardon me!" +</p> +<p> +With a sudden swift movement he crossed the room, passed into the +inner apartment and disappeared. Sabatini rose to his feet. +</p> +<p> +"I propose," he said, "that we complain to the proprietor of this +excitable young journalist, and take our coffee in the palm court at +the Carlton." +</p> +<p> +Fenella also rose and stepped in front of the looking-glass. +</p> +<p> +"It is good," she declared. "I stay with you for one half hour. +Afterwards I have a bridge party. You will come with us, Mr. +Chetwode?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold did not at once reply. He was gazing at the inner door. Every +moment he expected to hear—what? It seemed to him that tragedy was +there, the greatest tragedy of all—the hunting of man! Sabatini +yawned. +</p> +<p> +"Those others," he declared, "must settle their own little +differences. After all, it is not our affair." +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0013"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_99" id="Pg_99"></a>CHAPTER XII +</h2> +<h3> + JARVIS IS JUSTLY DISTURBED +</h3> +<p> +It was fully half-past three before Arnold found himself back in +Tooley Street. He hung up his coat and hat and was preparing to +enter Mr. Weatherley's room when the chief clerk saw him. Mr. Jarvis +had been standing outside, superintending the unloading of several +dray loads of American bacon. He laid his hand upon Arnold's +shoulder. +</p> +<p> +"One moment, Chetwode," he said. "I want to speak to you out here." +</p> +<p> +Arnold followed him to a retired part of the warehouse. Mr. Jarvis +leaned against an old desk belonging to one of the porters. +</p> +<p> +"You are very late, Chetwode," he remarked. +</p> +<p> +"I am sorry, but I was detained," Arnold answered. "I will explain +it to Mr. Weatherley directly I go in." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis coughed. +</p> +<p> +"Of course," he said, "as you went out with Mrs. Weatherley I +suppose it's none of my business as to your hours, but you must know +that to come back from lunch at half-past three is most irregular, +especially as you are practically junior in the place." +</p> +<p> +"I quite agree with you," Arnold assented, "but, you <a name="Pg_100" id="Pg_100"></a>see, I really +couldn't help myself to-day. I don't suppose it is likely to happen +again. Is that all that you wanted to speak to me about?" +</p> +<p> +"Not altogether," Mr. Jarvis admitted. "To tell you the truth," he +went on, confidentially, "I wanted to ask you a question or two." +</p> +<p> +"Well, look sharp, then," Arnold said, good-humoredly. "I dare say +Mr. Weatherley will be getting impatient, and he probably saw me +come in." +</p> +<p> +"I want to ask you," Mr. Jarvis began, impressively, "whether you +noticed anything peculiar about the governor's manner this morning?" +</p> +<p> +"I don't think so—not especially," Arnold replied. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis took off his gold-rimmed spectacles and wiped them +carefully. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Weatherley," he proceeded, "has always been a gentleman of very +regular habits—he and his father before him. I have been in the +service of the firm for thirty-five years, Mr. Chetwode, so you can +understand that my interest is not merely a business one." +</p> +<p> +"Quite so," Arnold agreed, glancing at the man by his side with a +momentary curiosity. He had been in Tooley Street for four months, +and even now he was still unused to the close atmosphere, the +pungent smells, the yellow fog which seemed always more or less to +hang about in the streets; the dark, cavernous-looking warehouse +with its gloomy gas-jets always burning. From where they were +standing at that moment, the figures of the draymen and warehousemen +moving backwards and forwards seemed like phantoms in some +subterranean world. It was odd to think of thirty-five years spent +amid such surroundings! +</p> +<p> +"It is a long time," he remarked. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_101" id="Pg_101"></a>Mr. Jarvis nodded. +</p> +<p> +"I mention it," he said, "so that you may understand that my +remarks to you are not dictated by curiosity or impertinence. Mr. +Weatherley's behavior and mode of life has been entirely changed, +Chetwode, since his marriage." +</p> +<p> +"I can understand that," Arnold replied, with a faint smile. What, +indeed, had so beautiful a creature as Fenella to do with Samuel +Weatherley of Tooley Street! +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Weatherley," Mr. Jarvis continued, "is, no doubt, a very +beautiful and accomplished lady. Whether she is a suitable wife for +Mr. Weatherley I am not in a position to judge, never having had the +opportunity of speech with her, but as regards the effect of his +marriage upon Mr. Weatherley, I should like you to understand, +Chetwode, at once, that it is my opinion, and the opinion of all of +us, and of all his business friends, that a marked change for the +worse in Mr. Weatherley has set in during the last few months." +</p> +<p> +"I am sorry to hear it," Arnold interposed. +</p> +<p> +"You, of course," Mr. Jarvis went on, "could scarcely have noticed +it, as you have been here so short a time, but I can assure you that +a year or so ago the governor was a different person altogether. He +was out in the warehouse half the morning, watching the stuff being +unloaded, sampling it, and suggesting customers. He took a live +interest in the business, Chetwode. He was here, there and +everywhere. To-day—for the last few weeks, indeed—he has scarcely +left his office. He sits there, signs a few letters, listens to what +I have to say, and goodness knows how he spends the rest of his +time. Where the business would be," Mr. Jarvis continued, rubbing +his chin thoughtfully, "if it were not for us who <a name="Pg_102" id="Pg_102"></a>know the running +of it so well, I can't say, but a fact it is that Mr. Weatherley +seems to have lost all interest in it." +</p> +<p> +"I wonder he doesn't retire," Arnold suggested. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis looked at him in amazement. +</p> +<p> +"Retire!" he exclaimed. "Why should he retire? What would he do? +Isn't it as comfortable for him to read his newspaper over the fire +in the office here as at home? Isn't it better for him to have his +friends all around him, as he has here, than to sit up in his +drawing-room in business hours with never a soul to speak to? Such +men as Mr. Weatherley, Chetwode, or as Mr. Weatherley's father was, +don't retire. If they do, it means the end." +</p> +<p> +"Well, I'm sorry to hear what you tell me," Arnold said. "I haven't +seen much of Mr. Weatherley, of course, but he seems devoted to his +wife." +</p> +<p> +"Infatuated, sir! Infatuated is the word!" Mr. Jarvis declared. +</p> +<p> +"She is very charming," Arnold remarked, thoughtfully. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis looked as though there were many things which he could +have said but refrained from saying. +</p> +<p> +"You will not suggest, Chetwode," he asked, "that she married Mr. +Weatherley for any other reason than because he was a rich man?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold was silent for a moment. Somehow or other, he had accepted +the fact of her being Mrs. Weatherley without thinking much as to +its significance. +</p> +<p> +"I suppose," he admitted, "that Mr. Weatherley's money was an +inducement." +</p> +<p> +"There is never anything but evil," Mr. Jarvis declared, "comes from +a man or a woman marrying out of <a name="Pg_103" id="Pg_103"></a>their own circle of friends. Now +Mr. Weatherley might have married a dozen ladies from his own circle +here. One I know of, a very handsome lady, too, whose father has +been Lord Mayor. And then there's young Tidey's sisters, in the +office there. Any one of them would have been most suitable. But no! +Some unlucky chance seems to have sent Mr. Weatherley on that +continental journey, and when you once get away from England, why, +of course, anything may happen. I don't wish to say anything against +Mrs. Weatherley, mind," Mr. Jarvis continued, "but she comes from +the wrong class of people to make a city man a good wife, and I +can't help associating her and her friends and her manner of living +with the change that's come over Mr. Weatherley." +</p> +<p> +Arnold swung himself up on to the top of a barrel and sat looking +down at his companion. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Jarvis," he said, "you and I see this matter, naturally, from +very different standpoints. You have known Mr. Weatherley for +thirty-five years. I have known him for four months, and he never +spoke a word to me until a few days ago. Practically, therefore, I +have known Mr. and Mrs. Weatherley the same length of time. Under +the circumstances, I must tell you frankly that my sympathies are +with Mrs. Weatherley. Not only have I found her a very charming +woman, but she has been most unnecessarily kind to me." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis was silent for a moment. +</p> +<p> +"I had forgotten," he admitted, "that that might be your point of +view. It isn't, of course, possible to look for any feeling of +loyalty for the chief from any one who has only been here a matter +of a few months. Perhaps I was wrong to have spoken to you at all, +Chetwode." +</p> +<p> +"If there is anything I can do," Arnold began,— +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_104" id="Pg_104"></a>"It's in this way," Mr. Jarvis interrupted. "Owing, I dare say, to +Mrs. Weatherley, you have certainly been put in a unique position +here. You see more of Mr. Weatherley now than any one of us. For +that reason I was anxious to make a confidant of you. I tell you +that I am worried about Mr. Weatherley. He is a rich man and a +prosperous man. There is no reason why he should sit in his office +and gaze into the fire and look out of the window as though the +place were full of shadows and he hated the sight of them. Yet that +is what he does nowadays, Chetwode. What does it mean? I ask you +frankly. Haven't you noticed yourself that his behavior is +peculiar?" +</p> +<p> +"Now you mention it," Arnold replied, "I certainly have noticed that +he was very strange in his manner this morning. He seemed very upset +about that Rosario murder. Mr. Rosario was at his house the other +night, you know. Were they great friends, do you think?" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"Not at all," he said. "He was simply, I believe, one of Mrs. +Weatherley's society acquaintances. But that there's something gone +wrong with Mr. Weatherley, no one would deny who sees him as he is +now and knows him as he was a year or so ago. There's Johnson, the +foreman packer, who's been here as long as I have; and Elwick, the +carter; and Hümmel, in the export department;—we've all been +talking together about this." +</p> +<p> +"He doesn't speculate, I suppose?" Arnold enquired. +</p> +<p> +"Not a ha'penny," Mr. Jarvis replied, fervently. "He has spent large +sums of money since his marriage, but he can afford it. It isn't +money that's worrying him." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_105" id="Pg_105"></a>"Perhaps he doesn't hit it off with his wife," Arnold remarked. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis drew a little breath. For a moment he was speechless. To +him it seemed something like profanity that this young man should +make so casual a suggestion. +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Weatherley, sir," he declared, "was, I believe, without any +means whatever when Mr. Weatherley made her his wife. Mr. +Weatherley, as you know, is at the head of this house, the house of +Samuel Weatherley & Co., bankers Lloyds. It should be the business +of the lady, sir, to see that she hits it off, as you put it, with a +husband who has done her so much honor." +</p> +<p> +Arnold smiled. +</p> +<p> +"That is all very well, Mr. Jarvis," he said, "but you must remember +that Mrs. Weatherley had compensations for her lack of wealth. She +is very beautiful, and she is, too, of a different social rank." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis was frankly scornful. +</p> +<p> +"Why, she was a foreigner," he declared. "I should like to know of +what account any foreign family is against our good city firms, such +as I have been speaking of. No, Chetwode, my opinion is that she's +brought a lot of her miserable, foreign hangers-on over here, and +that somehow or other they are worrying Mr. Weatherley. I should +like, if I could, to interest you in the chief. You can't be +expected to feel as I do towards him. At the same time, he is the +head of the firm, and you are bound, therefore, to feel a certain +respect due to him, and I thought that if I talked to you and put +these matters before you, which have occurred not only to me but to +those others who have been with Mr. Weatherley for so many years, +you might <a name="Pg_106" id="Pg_106"></a>be able to help us by watching, and if you can find any +clue as to what is bothering him, why, I'd be glad to hear of it, +for there isn't one of us who wouldn't do anything that lay in his +power to have the master back once more as he used to be a few years +ago. Why, the business seems to have lost all its spring, nowadays," +Mr. Jarvis went on, mournfully. "We do well, of course, because we +couldn't help doing well, but we plod along more like a machine. It +was different altogether in the days when Mr. Weatherley used to +bring out the morning orders himself and chaff us about selling for +no profit. You follow me, Chetwode?" +</p> +<p> +"I'll do what I can," Arnold agreed. "Of course, I see your point of +view, and I must admit that the governor does seem depressed about +something or other." +</p> +<p> +"If anything turns up," Mr. Jarvis asked eagerly, "anything +tangible, I mean, you'll tell me of it, won't you, there's a good +fellow? Of course, I suppose your future is outside my control now, +but I engaged you first, you know, Chetwode. There aren't many +things done here that I haven't a say in." +</p> +<p> +"You may rely upon me," Arnold promised, slipping down from the +barrel. "He's really quite a decent old chap, and if I can find out +what's worrying him, and can help, I'll do it." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis went back to his labors and Arnold made his way to Mr. +Weatherley's room. His first knock remained unanswered. The "Come +in!" which procured for him admittance at his second attempt sounded +both flurried and startled. Mr. Weatherley had the air of one who +has been engaged in some criminal task. He drew the blotting-paper +over the letter which he had been writing as Arnold entered. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_107" id="Pg_107"></a>"Oh! it's you, is it, Chetwode?" he remarked, with an air of +relief. "So you're back, eh? Pleasant luncheon?" +</p> +<p> +"Very pleasant indeed, thank you, sir," Arnold replied. +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Weatherley send any message?" her husband asked, with +ill-assumed indifference. +</p> +<p> +"None at all, sir." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley sighed. He seemed a little disappointed. +</p> +<p> +"Did you lunch at the Carlton?" +</p> +<p> +"We took our coffee there afterwards," Arnold said. "We lunched at a +small foreign restaurant near Oxford Street." +</p> +<p> +"The Count Sabatini was there?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, sir," Arnold told him. "Also Mr. Starling." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley nodded slowly. +</p> +<p> +"How do you get on with Count Sabatini?" he inquired. "Rather a +gloomy person, eh?" +</p> +<p> +"I found him very pleasant, sir," Arnold said. "He was good enough +to ask me to dine with him to-night." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley looked up, a little startled. +</p> +<p> +"Invited you to dine with him?" he repeated. +</p> +<p> +Arnold nodded. +</p> +<p> +"I thought it was very kind of him, sir." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley sat quite still in his chair. He had obviously +forgotten his secretary's presence in the room, and Arnold, who had +seated himself at his desk and was engaged in sorting out some +papers, took the opportunity now and then to glance up and +scrutinize with some attention his employer's features. There were +certainly traces there of the change at which Mr. Jarvis had hinted. +Mr. Weatherley had the appearance of a <a name="Pg_108" id="Pg_108"></a>man who had once been florid +and prosperous and comfortable-looking, but who had been visited by +illness or some sort of anxiety. His cheeks were still fat, but they +hung down toward the jaw, and his eyes were marked with crowsfeet. +His color was unhealthy. He certainly had no longer the look of a +prosperous and contented man. +</p> +<p> +"Chetwode," he said slowly, after a long pause, "I am not sure that +I did you a kindness when I asked you to come to my house the other +night." +</p> +<p> +"I thought so, at any rate, sir," Arnold replied. "It has been a +great pleasure to me to make Mrs. Weatherley's acquaintance." +</p> +<p> +"I am glad that my wife has been kind to you," Mr. Weatherley +continued, "but I hope you will not misunderstand me, Chetwode, when +I say that I am not sure that such kindness is for your good. Mrs. +Weatherley's antecedents are romantic, and she has many friends +whose position in life is curiously different from my own, and whose +ideas and methods of life are not such as I should like a son of my +own to adopt. The Count Sabatini, for instance," Mr. Weatherley went +on, "is a nobleman who has had, I believe, a brilliant career, in +some respects, but who a great many people would tell you is a man +without principles or morals, as we understand them down here. He is +just the sort of man to attract youth because he is brave, and I +believe him to be incapable of a really despicable action. But +notwithstanding this, and although he is my wife's brother, if I +were you I would not choose him for a companion." +</p> +<p> +"I am very much obliged to you, sir," Arnold answered, a little +awkwardly. "I shall bear in mind all <a name="Pg_109" id="Pg_109"></a>that you have said. You do not +object, I presume, to my dining with him to-night?" +</p> +<p> +"I have no objection to anything you may do outside this building," +Mr. Weatherley replied, "but as you are only a youngster, and you +met the Count Sabatini at my house, I feel it only right to give you +a word of warning. I may be wrong. One gets fancies sometimes, and +there are some strange doings—not that they concern you, however," +he added, hurriedly; "only you are a young man with your way to make +in the world, and every chance of making it, I should think; but it +won't do for you to get too many of Count Sabatini's ideas into your +head if you are going to do any good at a wholesome, honest business +like this." +</p> +<p> +"I quite understand, sir," Arnold assented. "I don't suppose that +Count Sabatini will ask me to dine with him again. I think it was +just kindness that made him think of it. In any case, I am not in a +position to associate with these people regularly, at present, and +that alone would preclude me from accepting invitations." +</p> +<p> +"You're young and strong," Mr. Weatherley said thoughtfully. "You +must fight your own battle. You start, somehow, differently than I +did. You see," he went on, with the air of one indulging in +reminiscences, "my father was in this business and I was brought up +to it. We lived only a stone's throw away then, in Bermondsey, and I +went to the City of London School. At fourteen I was in the office +here, and a partner at twenty-one. I never went out of England till +I was over forty. I had plenty of friends, but they were all of one +class. They wouldn't suit Mrs. Weatherley or the Count Sabatini. I +have lost a good many of them.... <a name="Pg_110" id="Pg_110"></a>You weren't brought up to +business, Chetwode?" he asked suddenly. +</p> +<p> +"I was not, sir," Arnold admitted. +</p> +<p> +"What made you come into it?" +</p> +<p> +"Poverty, sir," Arnold answered. "I had only a few shillings in the +world when I walked in and asked Mr. Jarvis for a situation." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley sighed. +</p> +<p> +"Your people are gentlefolk, I expect," he said. "You have the look +of it." +</p> +<p> +Arnold did not reply. Mr. Weatherley shrugged his shoulders. +</p> +<p> +"Well," he concluded, "you must look after yourself, only remember +what I have said. By the bye, Chetwode, I am going to repose a +certain amount of confidence in you." +</p> +<p> +Arnold looked up from his desk. +</p> +<p> +"I think you may safely do so, sir," he declared. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley slowly opened a drawer at his right hand and produced +two letters. He carefully folded up the sheet upon which he had been +writing, and also addressed that. +</p> +<p> +"I cannot enter into explanations with you about this matter, +Chetwode," he said, "but I require your promise that what I say to +you now is not mentioned in the warehouse or to any one until the +time comes which I am about to indicate. You are my confidential +secretary and I have a right, I suppose, to demand your silence." +</p> +<p> +"Certainly, sir," Arnold assured him. +</p> +<p> +"There is just a possibility," Mr. Weatherley declared, speaking +thoughtfully and looking out of the window, "that I may be compelled +to take a sudden and <a name="Pg_111" id="Pg_111"></a>quite unexpected journey. If this be so, I +should have to leave without a word to any one—to any one, you +understand." +</p> +<p> +Arnold was puzzled, but he murmured a word of assent. +</p> +<p> +"In case this should happen," Mr. Weatherley went on, "and I have +not time to communicate with any of you, I am leaving in your +possession these two letters. One is addressed jointly to you and +Mr. Jarvis, and the other to Messrs. Turnbull & James, Solicitors, +Bishopsgate Street Within. Now I give these letters into your +charge. We shall lock them up together in this small safe which I +told you you could have for your own papers," Mr. Weatherley +continued, rising to his feet and crossing the room. "There you are, +you see. The safe is empty at present, so you will not need to go to +it. I am locking them up," he added, taking a key from his pocket, +"and there is the key. Now you understand?" +</p> +<p> +"But surely, sir," Arnold began,— +</p> +<p> +"The matter is quite simple," Mr. Weatherley interrupted, sharply. +"To put it plainly, if I am missing at any time, if anything should +happen to me, or if I should disappear, go to that safe, take out +the letters, open your own and deliver the other. That is all you +have to do." +</p> +<p> +"Quite so, sir," Arnold replied. "I understand perfectly. I see that +there is none for Mrs. Weatherley. Would you wish any message to be +sent to her?" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley was silent for a moment. A boy passed along the +pavement with a bundle of evening papers. Mr. Weatherley tapped at +the window. +</p> +<p> +"Hurry out and get me a <i>Star</i>, Chetwode," he ordered. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_112" id="Pg_112"></a>Arnold obeyed him and returned a few moments later with a paper in +his hand. Mr. Weatherley spread out the damp sheet under the +electric light. He studied it for a few moments intently, and then +folded it up. +</p> +<p> +"It will not be necessary for you, Chetwode," he said, "to +communicate with my wife specially." +</p> +<p> +The accidental arrangement of his employer's coat and hat upon the +rack suddenly struck Arnold. +</p> +<p> +"Why, I don't believe that you have been out to lunch, sir!" he +exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley looked as though the idea were a new one to him. +</p> +<p> +"To tell you the truth," he said, "I completely forgot. Help me on +with my coat, Chetwode. There is nothing more to be done to-day. I +will call and get some tea somewhere on my way home." +</p> +<p> +He rose to his feet, a little heavily. +</p> +<p> +"Tell them to get me a taxicab," he directed. "I don't feel much +like walking to-day, and they are not sending for me." +</p> +<p> +Arnold sent the errand-boy off to London Bridge. Mr. Weatherley +stood before the window looking out into the murky atmosphere. +</p> +<p> +"I hope, Chetwode," he said, "that I haven't said anything to make +you believe that there is anything wrong with me, or to give you +cause for uneasiness. This journey of which I spoke may never become +necessary. In that case, after a certain time has elapsed, we will +destroy those letters." +</p> +<p> +"I trust that it never may become necessary to open them, sir," +Arnold remarked. +</p> +<p> +"As regards what I said to you about the Count," Mr. Weatherley +continued, after a moment's hesitation, <a name="Pg_113" id="Pg_113"></a>"remember who I am that +give you the advice, and who you are that receive it. Your +bringing-up, I should imagine, has been different. Still, a young +man of your age has to make up his mind what sort of a life he means +to lead. I suppose, to a good many people," he went on, +reflectively, "my life would seem a common, dull, plodding affair. +Somehow or other, I didn't seem to find it so until—until lately. +Still, there it is. I suppose I have lived in a little corner of the +world, and what seems strange and wild to me might, after all, seem +not so much out of the way to a young man with different ideas like +you. Only, this much I do believe, at any rate," he went on, +buttoning up his coat and watching the taxicab which was coming +along the street; "if you want a quiet, honest life, doing your duty +to yourself and others, and living according to the old-fashioned +standards of honesty and upright living, then when you have had that +dinner with the Count Sabatini to-night, forget him, forget where he +lives. Come back to your work here, and if the things of which the +Count has been talking to you seem to have more glamor, forget them +all the more zealously. The best sort of life is always the grayest. +The life which attracts is generally the one to be avoided. We don't +do our duty," Mr. Weatherley added, brushing his hat upon his sleeve +reflectively, "by always looking out upon the pleasurable side of +life. Good evening, Chetwode!" +</p> +<p> +He turned away so abruptly that Arnold had scarcely time to return +his greeting. It seemed so strange to him to be talked to at such +length by a man whom he had scarcely heard utter half a dozen words +in his life, that he was left speechless. He was still standing +before the window when Mr. Weatherley crossed the pavement <a name="Pg_114" id="Pg_114"></a>to the +waiting taxicab. In his walk and attitude the signs of the man's +deterioration were obvious. The little swagger of his younger days +was gone, the bumptiousness of his bearing forgotten. He cast no +glance up and down the pavement to hail an acquaintance. He muttered +an address to the driver and stepped heavily into the taxicab. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0014"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_115" id="Pg_115"></a>CHAPTER XIII +</h2> +<h3> + CASTLES IN SPAIN +</h3> +<p> +Ruth welcomed him with her usual smile—once he had thought it the +most beautiful thing in the world. In the twilight of the April +evening her face gleamed almost marble white. He dragged a footstool +up to her side. +</p> +<p> +"Little woman, you are looking pale," he declared. "Give me your +hands to hold. Can't you see that I have come just at the right +time? Even the coal barges look like phantom boats. See, there is +the first light." +</p> +<p> +She shook her head slowly. +</p> +<p> +"To-night," she murmured, "there will be no ships, Arnold. I have +looked and looked and I am sure. Light the lamp, please." +</p> +<p> +"Why?" he asked, obeying her as a matter of course. +</p> +<p> +She turned in her chair. +</p> +<p> +"Do you think that I cannot tell?" she continued. "Didn't I see you +turn the corner there, didn't I hear your step three flights down? +Sometimes I have heard it come, and it sounds like something leaden +beating time to the music of despair. And to-night you tripped up +like a boy home for the holidays. You are going out to-night, +Arnold." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_116" id="Pg_116"></a>He nodded. +</p> +<p> +"A man whom I met the other night has asked me to dine with him," he +announced. +</p> +<p> +"A man! You are not going to see her, then?" +</p> +<p> +He laughed gayly and placed his hand upon the fingers which had +drawn him towards her. +</p> +<p> +"Silly girl!" he declared. "No, I am going to dine alone with her +brother, the Count Sabatini. You see, I am private secretary now to +a merchant prince, no longer a clerk in a wholesale provision +merchant's office. We climb, my dear Ruth. Soon I am going to ask +for a holiday, and then we'll make Isaac leave his beastly lecturing +and scurrilous articles, and come away with us somewhere for a day +or two. You would like a few days in the country, Ruth?" +</p> +<p> +Her eyes met his gratefully. +</p> +<p> +"You know that I should love it, dear," she said, "but, Arnie, do +you think that when the time for the holiday comes you will want to +take us?" +</p> +<p> +He sat on the arm of her chair and held her hand. +</p> +<p> +"Foolish little woman!" he exclaimed. "Do you think that I am likely +to forget? Why, I must have shared your supper nearly every night +for a month, while I was walking about trying to find something to +do. People don't forget who have lived through that sort of times, +Ruth." +</p> +<p> +She sighed. Strangely enough, her tone had in it something of vague +regret. +</p> +<p> +"For your sake, dear, I am glad that they are over." +</p> +<p> +"Things, too, will improve with you," he declared. "They shall +improve. If only Isaac would turn sensible! He has brains and he is +clever enough, if he weren't stuffed full with that foolish +socialism." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_117" id="Pg_117"></a>She looked around the room and drew him a little closer to her. +</p> +<p> +"Arnold," she whispered, "now that you have spoken of it, let me +tell you this. Sometimes I am afraid. Isaac is so mysterious. Do you +know that he is away often for the whole day, and comes back white +and exhausted, worn to a shadow, and sleeps for many hours? +Sometimes he is in his room all right, but awake. I can hear him +moving backwards and forwards, and hammering, tap, tap, tap, for +hours." +</p> +<p> +"What does he do?" Arnold asked quickly. +</p> +<p> +"He has some sort of a little printing press in his room," she +answered. "He prints some awful sheet there which the police have +stopped. The night before last he had a message and everything was +hidden. He spent hours with his face to the window, watching. I am +so afraid that sometimes he goes outside the law. Arnold, I am +afraid of what might happen to him. There are terrible things in his +face if I ask him questions. And he moves about and mutters like a +man in a dream—no, like a man in a nightmare!" +</p> +<p> +Arnold frowned, and looked up at the sky-signs upon the other side +of the river. +</p> +<p> +"I, too, wish he were different, dear," he said. "He certainly is a +dangerous protector for you." +</p> +<p> +"He is the only one I have," the girl replied, with a sigh, "and +sometimes, when he remembers, he is so kind. But that is not often +now." +</p> +<p> +"What do you do when he is away for all this time?" Arnold asked +quickly. "Are you properly looked after? You ought to have some one +here." +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Sands comes twice a day, always," she declared. "It is not +myself I trouble about, really. Isaac <a name="Pg_118" id="Pg_118"></a>is good in that way. He pays +Mrs. Sands always in advance. He tries even to buy wine for me, and +he often brings me home fruit. When he has money, I am sure that he +gives it to me. It isn't that so much, Arnold, but I get frightened +of his getting into trouble. Now that room of his has got on my +nerves. When I hear that tap, tap, in the night, I am terrified." +</p> +<p> +"Will you let me speak to him about it, Ruth?" +</p> +<p> +Her face was suddenly full of terror. +</p> +<p> +"Arnie, you mustn't think of it," she begged. "He would never +forgive me—never. The first time I asked him what was going on +there, I thought that he would have struck me." +</p> +<p> +"Would you like me to go in and see next time he is out?" +</p> +<p> +She shivered. +</p> +<p> +"Not for the world," she replied. "Besides, you couldn't. He has +fixed on a Yale lock himself. No one could open the door." +</p> +<p> +"You have never seen what he prints?" +</p> +<p> +"Never," she replied. "He knows that I hate the sight of those +pamphlets. He never shows them to me. He had a man to see him the +other night—the strangest-looking man I ever saw—and they talked +in whispers for hours. I saw the man's face when he went out. It was +white and evil. And, Arnold, it was the face of a man steeped in sin +to the lips. I wish I hadn't seen it," she went on, drearily. "It +haunts me." +</p> +<p> +He did his best to reassure her. +</p> +<p> +"Little Ruth," he said, "you have been up here too long without a +holiday. Wait till Saturday afternoon, when I draw my new salary for +the first time. I shall <a name="Pg_119" id="Pg_119"></a>hire a taxicab. We will have it open and +drive out into the country." +</p> +<p> +Her face lit up for a moment. Her beautiful eyes were soft, although +a few seconds later they were swimming with tears. +</p> +<p> +"Do you think you will want to go when Saturday afternoon comes?" +she asked. "Don't you think, perhaps, that your new friends may +invite you to go and see them? I am so jealous of your new friends, +Arnold." +</p> +<p> +He drew her a little closer to him. There was something very +pathetic in her complete dependence upon him, a few months ago a +stranger. They had both been waifs, brought together by a wave of +common adversity. Her intense weakness had made the same appeal to +him as his youth and strength to her. There was almost a lump in his +throat as he answered her. +</p> +<p> +"You aren't really feeling like that, Ruth?" he begged. "Don't! My +new friends are part of the new life. You wouldn't have me cling to +the old any longer than I can help? Why, you and I together have sat +here hour after hour and prayed for a change, prayed for the mystic +treasure that might come to us from those ships of chance. Dear, if +mine comes first, it brings good for you, too. You can't believe +that I should forget?" +</p> +<p> +For the first time in his life he bent over and kissed her upon the +lips. She suffered his caress not only without resistance but for a +single moment her arms clasped his neck passionately. Then she drew +away abruptly. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know what I'm doing!" she panted. "You mustn't kiss me like +that! You mustn't, Arnold!" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_120" id="Pg_120"></a>She began to cry, but before he could attempt to console her she +dashed the tears away. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, we're impossible, both of us!" she declared. "But then, a poor +creature like me must always be impossible. It isn't quite kind of +fate, is it, to give any one a woman's heart and a woman's +loneliness, and the poor frame of a hopeless invalid." +</p> +<p> +"You're not a hopeless invalid," he assured her, earnestly. "No one +would ever know, to look at you as you sit there, that there was +anything whatever the matter. Don't you remember our money-box for +the doctor? Even that will come, Ruth. The day will come, I am sure, +when we shall carry you off to Vienna, or one of those great cities, +and the cure will be quite easy. I believe in it, really." +</p> +<p> +She sighed. +</p> +<p> +"I used to love to hear you talk about it," she said, "but, somehow, +now it seems so far off. I don't even know that I want to be like +other women. There is only one thing I do want and that is to keep +you." +</p> +<p> +"That," he declared, fervently, "you are sure of. Remember, Ruth, +that awful black month and what we suffered together. And you knew +nothing about me. I just found you sitting on the stairs with your +broken stick, waiting for some one to come and help you." +</p> +<p> +She nodded. +</p> +<p> +"And you picked me up and carried me into your room," she reminded +him. "You didn't have to stop and take breath as Isaac has to." +</p> +<p> +"Why, no," he admitted, "I couldn't say you were heavy, dear. Some +day or other, though," he added, "you will be. Don't lose your +faith, Ruth. Don't let either of us leave off looking for the +ships." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_121" id="Pg_121"></a>She smiled. +</p> +<p> +"Very well," she said, letting her hand fall once more softly into +his, "I think that I am very foolish. I think that yours has come +already, dear, and I am worse than foolish, I am selfish, because I +once hoped that they might come together; that you and I might sit +here, Arnold, hand in hand, and watch them with great red sails, and +piles and piles of gold and beautiful things, with our names written +on so big that we could read them even here from the window." +</p> +<p> +She burst into a peal of laughter. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, those children's days! What an escape they, were for us in the +black times! Do you know that we once actually told one another +fairy stories?" +</p> +<p> +"Not only that but we believed in them," he insisted. "I am +perfectly certain that the night you found my star, and it seemed to +us to keep on getting bigger and bigger while we looked at it, that +from that night things have been getting better with me." +</p> +<p> +"At least," she declared, abruptly, "I am not going to spoil your +dinner by keeping you here talking nonsense. Carry me back, please, +Arnold. You must hurry up now and change your clothes. And, dear, +you had better not come in and wish me good-night. Isaac went out +this morning in one of his savage tempers, and he may be back at any +moment. Carry me back now, and have a beautiful evening. To-morrow +you must tell me all about it." +</p> +<p> +He obeyed her. She was really only a trifle to lift, as light as +air. She clung to him longingly, even to the last minute. +</p> +<p> +"And now, please, you are to kiss my forehead," she said, "and run +away." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_122" id="Pg_122"></a>"Your forehead only?" he asked, bending over her. +</p> +<p> +"My forehead only, please," she begged gravely. "The other doesn't +go with our fairy stories, dear. I want to go on believing in the +fairy stories...." +</p> +<p> +Arnold had little enough time to dress, and he descended the stone +steps towards the street at something like a run. Half-way down, +however, he pulled up abruptly to avoid running into two men. One +was Isaac. His worn, white face, with hooked nose and jet-black +eyes, made him a noticeable figure even in the twilight. The other +man was so muffled up as to be unrecognizable. Arnold stopped short. +</p> +<p> +"Glad you're home, Isaac," he said pleasantly. "I have just been +talking to Ruth. I thought she seemed rather queer." +</p> +<p> +Isaac looked at him coldly from head to foot. Arnold was wearing his +only and ordinary overcoat, but his varnished shoes and white tie +betrayed him. +</p> +<p> +"So you're wearing your cursed livery again!" he sneered. "You're +going to beg your bone from the rich man's plate." +</p> +<p> +Arnold laughed at him. +</p> +<p> +"Always the same, Isaac," he declared. "Never mind about me. You +look after your niece and take her out, if you can, somewhere. I am +going to give her a drive on Saturday." +</p> +<p> +"Are you?" Isaac said calmly. "I doubt it. Drives and carriages are +not for the like of us poor scum." +</p> +<p> +His companion nudged him impatiently. Isaac moved away. Arnold +turned after him. +</p> +<p> +"You won't deny the right of a man to spend what he earns in the way +he likes best?" he asked. "I've <a name="Pg_123" id="Pg_123"></a>had a rise in my salary, and I am +going to spend a part of it taking Ruth out." +</p> +<p> +Isaac laughed scornfully. +</p> +<p> +"A rise in your salary!" he muttered. "You poor slave! Did you go +and kiss your master's foot when he gave it to you?" +</p> +<p> +"I didn't," Arnold declared. "To tell you the truth, I believe it +would have annoyed him. He hasn't any sense of humor, you see. Good +night, Isaac. If you're writing one of those shattering articles +to-night, remember that Ruth can hear you, and don't keep her awake +too late." +</p> +<p> +Arnold walked on. Suddenly his attention was arrested. Isaac was +leaning over the banister of the landing above. +</p> +<p> +"Stop!" +</p> +<p> +Arnold paused for a moment. +</p> +<p> +"What is it?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +Isaac came swiftly down. He brushed his cloth hat further back on +his head as though it obscured his vision. With both hands he +gripped Arnold's arm. +</p> +<p> +"Tell me," he said, "what do you mean by that?" +</p> +<p> +"What I said," Arnold answered; "but, for Heaven's sake, don't visit +it on poor Ruth. She told me that you had some printing-press in +your room to set up your pamphlets, and that the tap, tap at night +had kept her awake. It's no concern of mine. I don't care what you +do or what rubbish you print, but I can't bear to see the little +woman getting frailer and frailer, Isaac." +</p> +<p> +"She told you that?" Isaac muttered. +</p> +<p> +"She told me that," Arnold assented. "What is there in it?" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_124" id="Pg_124"></a>Isaac looked at him for a moment with an intentness which was +indescribable. His black eyes seemed on fire with suspicion, with +searchfulness. At last he let go the arm which he was clutching, and +turned away. +</p> +<p> +"All right," he said. "Ruth shouldn't talk, that's all. I don't want +every one to know that I am reduced to printing my little sheet in +my bedroom. Good night!" +</p> +<p> +Arnold looked after him in surprise. It was very seldom that Isaac +vouchsafed any form of greeting or farewell. And then the shock +came. Isaac's companion, who had been leaning over the banisters, +waiting for him, had loosened the muffler about his neck and opened +his overcoat. His features were now recognizable—a pale face with +deep-set eyes and prominent forehead, a narrow chin, and a mouth +which seemed set in a perpetual snarl. Arnold stood gazing up at him +in rapt amazement. He had seen that face but once before, yet there +was no possibility of any mistake. It seemed, indeed, as though the +recognition were mutual, for the man above, with an angry cry, +turned suddenly away, buttoning up his overcoat with feverish +fingers. He called out to Isaac—a hurried sentence, in a language +which was strange to Arnold. There was a brief exchange of +breathless words. Arnold moved slowly away, but before he had +reached the street Isaac's hand was upon his shoulder. +</p> +<p> +"One moment!" Isaac panted. "My friend would like to know why you +looked at him like that?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold did not hesitate. +</p> +<p> +"Isaac," he said, gravely, "no doubt I seemed surprised. I have seen +that man before, only a night or two ago." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_125" id="Pg_125"></a>"Where? When?" Isaac demanded. +</p> +<p> +"I saw him hanging around the house of my employer," Arnold said +firmly, "under very suspicious circumstances. He was inquiring then +for Mr. Rosario. It was the night before Rosario was murdered." +</p> +<p> +"What do you mean by that?" Isaac asked, hoarsely. +</p> +<p> +"You had better ask yourself what it means," Arnold replied. "For +Ruth's sake, Isaac, don't have anything to do with that man. I don't +know anything about him—I don't want to know anything about him. I +simply beg you, for Ruth's sake, to keep out of trouble." +</p> +<p> +Isaac laughed harshly. +</p> +<p> +"You talk like a young fool!" he declared, turning on his heel. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0015"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_126" id="Pg_126"></a>CHAPTER XIV +</h2> +<h3> + SABATINI'S DOCTRINES +</h3> +<p> +The apartments of Count Sabatini were situated in the somewhat +unfamiliar quarter of Queen Anne's Gate. Arnold found his way there +on foot, crossing Parliament Square in a slight drizzling rain, +through which the figures of the passers-by assumed a somewhat +phantasmal appearance. Around him was a glowing arc of lights, and, +dimly visible beyond, shadowy glimpses of the river. He rang the +bell with some hesitation at the house indicated by his +directions—a large gray stone building, old-fashioned, and without +any external signs of habitation. His summons, however, was answered +almost immediately by a man-servant who took his hat and coat. +</p> +<p> +"If you will step into the library for a moment, sir," he said, with +a slight foreign accent, "His Excellency will be there." +</p> +<p> +Arnold was immensely impressed by the room into which he was shown. +He stood looking around him for several minutes. The whole +atmosphere seemed to indicate a cultivated and luxurious taste, kept +in bounds by a certain not unpleasing masculine severity. The +coloring of the room was dark green, and the walls <a name="Pg_127" id="Pg_127"></a>were everywhere +covered with prints and etchings, and trophies of the chase and war. +A huge easy-chair was drawn up to the fire, and by its side was a +table covered with books and illustrated papers. A black oak writing +desk stood open, and a huge bowl of violets set upon it was guarded +by an ivory statuette of the Venus of Milo. The furniture was +comfortably worn. There was a faint atmosphere of cigarette +smoke,—the whole apartment was impregnated by an intensely liveable +atmosphere. The glowing face of a celebrated Parisian <i>danseuse</i> +laughed at him from over the mantelpiece. Arnold was engaged in +examining it when Sabatini entered. +</p> +<p> +"A thousand apologies, my dear Mr. Chetwode," he said softly. "I see +you pass your time pleasantly. You admire the divine Fatime?" +</p> +<p> +"The face is beautiful," Arnold admitted. "I am afraid I was a few +minutes early. It began to rain and I walked fast." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini smiled. A butler had followed him into the room, bearing on +a tray two wine-glasses full of clear yellow liquid. +</p> +<p> +"Vermouth and one tiny cigarette," Sabatini suggested,—"the best +<i>apéretif</i> in the world. Permit me, Mr. Chetwode—to our better +acquaintance!" +</p> +<p> +"I never need an <i>apéretif</i>," Arnold answered, raising the +wine-glass to his lips, "but I will drink to your toast, with +pleasure." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini lit his cigarette, and, leaning slightly against the back +of a chair, stood with folded arms looking at the picture over the +fireplace. +</p> +<p> +"Your remark about Fatime suggested reservations," he remarked. "I +wonder why? I have a good many <a name="Pg_128" id="Pg_128"></a>curios in the room, and some rather +wonderful prints, but it was Fatime who held you while you waited. +Yet you are not one of those, I should imagine," he added, blowing +out a cloud of cigarette smoke, "to whom the call of sex is +irresistible." +</p> +<p> +Arnold shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"No, I don't think so," he admitted simply. "To tell you the truth, +I think that it was the actual presence of the picture here, rather +than its suggestions, which interested me most. Your room is so +masculine," Arnold added, glancing around. "It breathes of war and +sport and the collector. And then, in the middle of it all, this +girl, with her barely veiled limbs and lascivious eyes. There is +something a little brutal about the treatment, don't you think?" +</p> +<p> +Sabatini shrugged his shoulders. +</p> +<p> +"The lady is too well known," remarked Sabatini, shrugging his +shoulders. "A single touch of the ideal and the greatness of that +picture would be lost. Grève was too great an artist to try for it." +</p> +<p> +"Nevertheless," Arnold persisted, "she disturbs the serenity of your +room." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini threw away his cigarette and passed his arm through his +companion's. +</p> +<p> +"It is as well always to be reminded that life is many-sided," he +murmured. "You will not mind a <i>tête-à-tête</i> dinner?" +</p> +<p> +Some curtains of dark green brocaded material had been silently +drawn aside, and they passed into a smaller apartment, of which the +coloring and style of decoration was the same. A round table, before +which stood two high-backed, black oak chairs, and which was lit +with softly-shaded candles, stood in the middle of the <a name="Pg_129" id="Pg_129"></a>room. It was +very simply set out, but the two wine-glasses were richly cut in +quaint fashion, and the bowl of violets was of old yellow Sèvres. +Arnold sat opposite his host and realized how completely the man +seemed to fit in with his surroundings. In Mrs. Weatherley's +drawing-room there had been a note of incongruity. Here he seemed so +thoroughly in accord with the air of masculine and cultivated +refinement which dominated the atmosphere. He carried himself with +the ease and dignity to which his race entitled him, but, apart from +that, his manner had qualities which Arnold found particularly +attractive. His manicured nails, his spotless linen, his links and +waistcoat buttons,—cut from some quaint stone,—the slight +affectations of his dress, the unusual manner of brushing back his +hair and arranging his tie, gave him only a note of individuality. +Every word he spoke—and he talked softly but continually during the +service of the meal—confirmed Arnold's first impressions of him. He +was a man, at least, who had lived a man's life without fear or +weakness, and, whatever his standards might be, he would adhere to +them. +</p> +<p> +Dinner was noiselessly and perfectly served by the butler who had +first appeared, and a slighter and smaller edition of himself who +brought him the dishes. There was no champagne, but other wines were +served in their due order, the quality of which Arnold appreciated, +although more than one was strange to him. With the removal of the +last course, fruit was placed upon the table, with a decanter of +<i>Chateau Yquem</i>. On a small table near was a brass pot of coffee and +a flask of green liqueur. Sabatini pushed the cigarettes towards his +companion. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_130" id="Pg_130"></a>"I have a fancy to talk to you seriously," he said, without any +preamble. +</p> +<p> +Arnold looked at him in some surprise. +</p> +<p> +"I am not a philanthropist," continued Sabatini. "When I move out of +my regular course of life it is usually for my own advantage. I warn +you of that before we start." +</p> +<p> +Arnold nodded and lit his cigarette fearlessly. There was no safety +in life, he reflected, thinking for the moment of the warning which +he had received, like the safety of poverty. +</p> +<p> +"I am a man of forty-one," Sabatini said. "You, I believe, are +twenty-four. There can, therefore, be no impertinences in the truth +from me to you." +</p> +<p> +"There could be none in any case," Arnold assured him. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini gazed thoughtfully across the table into his guest's face. +</p> +<p> +"I do not know your history or your parentage," he went on. "Such +knowledge is unnecessary. It is obvious that your position at the +present moment is the result of an accident." +</p> +<p> +"It is the outcome of actual poverty," Arnold told him softly. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini assented. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! well," he said, "it is a poverty, then, which you have +accepted. Tell me, then, of your ambition! You are young, and the +world lies before you. You have the gifts which belong to those who +are born. Are you doing what is right to yourself in working at a +degrading employment for a pittance?" +</p> +<p> +"I must live," Arnold protested simply. +</p> +<p> +"Precisely," replied Sabatini. "We all must live. <a name="Pg_131" id="Pg_131"></a>We all, however, +are too apt to accept the rulings of circumstance. I maintain that +we all have a right to live in the manner to which we are born." +</p> +<p> +"And how," asked Arnold, "does one enforce that right?" +</p> +<p> +Sabatini leaned over and helped himself to the liqueur. +</p> +<p> +"You possess the gift," he remarked, "which I admire most—the gift +of directness. Now I would speak to you of myself. When I was young, +I was penniless, with no inheritance save a grim castle, a barren +island, and a great name. The titular head of my family was a +Cardinal of Rome, my father's own brother. I went to him, and I +demanded the means of support. He answered me with an epigram which +I will not repeat, besides which it is untranslatable. I will only +tell you that he gave me a sum equivalent to a few hundred pounds, +and bade me seek my fortune." +</p> +<p> +Arnold was intensely interested. +</p> +<p> +"Tell me how you started!" he begged. +</p> +<p> +"A few hundred pounds were insufficient," Sabatini answered coolly, +"and my uncle was a coward. I waited my opportunity, and although +three times I was denied an audience, on the fourth I found him +alone. He would have driven me out but I used the means which I have +never known to fail. I left him with a small but sufficient +fortune." +</p> +<p> +Arnold looked at him with glowing eyes. +</p> +<p> +"You forced him to give it you!" he exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +"Without a doubt," Sabatini answered, coolly. "He was wealthy and he +was my uncle. I was strong and he was weak. It was as necessary for +me to live as for him. So I took him by the throat and gave him +thirty seconds to reflect. He decided that the life of a Cardinal +<a name="Pg_132" id="Pg_132"></a>of Rome was far too pleasant to be abandoned precipitately." +</p> +<p> +There was a short silence. Sabatini glanced twice at his companion +and smiled. +</p> +<p> +"I will read your thoughts, my young friend," he continued. "Your +brain is a little confused. You are wondering whether indeed I have +robbed my elderly relative. Expunge that word and all that it means +to you from your vocabulary, if you can. I took that to which I had +a right by means of the weapons which have been given to +me—strength and opportunity. These are the weapons which I have +used through life." +</p> +<p> +"Supposing the Cardinal had refused?" Arnold asked. +</p> +<p> +"One need not suppose," Sabatini replied. "It is not worth while. I +should probably have done what the impulse of the moment demanded. +So far, however, I have found most people reasonable." +</p> +<p> +"There have been others, then?" Arnold demanded. +</p> +<p> +"There have been others," Sabatini agreed calmly; "always people, +however, upon whom I have had a certain claim. Life to different +people means different things. Life to a person of my tastes and +descent meant this—it meant playing a part in the affairs of the +country which gave me my birthright; it meant the carrying forward +of a great enmity which has burned within the family of Sabatini for +the house which now rules my country, for hundreds of years. If I +were a person who sought for excuses, I might say that I have robbed +my relatives for the cause of the patriot. Life to a sawer of wood +means bread. The two states themselves are identical. The man who is +denied bread breaks into riot and gains his ends. I, when I have +been denied<a name="Pg_133" id="Pg_133"></a> what amounts to me as bread, have also helped myself." +</p> +<p> +"I am not sure," Arnold protested, frankly, "whether you are not +amusing yourself with me." +</p> +<p> +"Then let me put that doubt to rest, once and for all," Sabatini +replied. "It does not amuse me to trifle with the truth." +</p> +<p> +"Why do you make me your confidant?" Arnold asked. +</p> +<p> +"Because it is my intention to make a convert of you," Sabatini said +calmly. +</p> +<p> +Arnold shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"I am afraid that that is quite hopeless," he answered. "I have not +the excuse of a country which needs my help, although I have more +than one relative," he added, with a smile, "whom I should not mind +taking by the throat." +</p> +<p> +"One needs no excuse," Sabatini murmured. +</p> +<p> +"When one—" +</p> +<p> +He hesitated. +</p> +<p> +"I have no scruples," Sabatini interrupted, "in using the word which +seems to trouble you. Perhaps I am a robber. What, however, you do +not appreciate is that nine-tenths of the people in the world are in +the same position." +</p> +<p> +"I cannot admit that either," Arnold protested. +</p> +<p> +"It is, then, because you have not considered the matter," Sabatini +declared. "You live in a very small corner of the world and you have +accepted a moral code as ridiculously out of date as Calvinism in +religion. The whole of life is a system of robbery. The strong help +themselves, the weak go down. Did you call your splendid seamen of +Queen Elizabeth's time robbers, because<a name="Pg_134" id="Pg_134"></a> they nailed the English +flag to their mast and swept the seas for plunder? 'We are strong,' +they cried to the country they robbed, 'and you are weak. Stand and +deliver!' I spare you a hundred instances. Take your commercial life +of to-day. The capitalist stretches out his hand and swallows up the +weaker man. He does it ten or fifty times a day and there is no one +to stop him. It is the strong taking from the weak. You cannot walk +from here to Charing Cross without seeing it. Some forms of plunder +come under the law, some do not. Your idea as to which are right and +which are wrong is simply the law's idea. The man who is strong +enough is the law." +</p> +<p> +"Your doctrines are far-reaching," Arnold said. "What about the man +who sweeps the crossings, the beggars who ask for alms?" +</p> +<p> +"They sweep crossings and they beg for alms," Sabatini replied, +"because they are weak or foolish and because I am strong. You work +for twenty-eight shillings a week because you are foolish. You can +do it if you like, if it affords you any satisfaction to make a +martyr of yourself for the sake of bolstering up a conventional +system. Either that or you have not the spirit for adventure." +</p> +<p> +"The spirit for adventure," Arnold repeated quietly. "Well, there +have been times when I thought I had that, but it certainly never +occurred to me to go out and rob." +</p> +<p> +"That," Sabatini declared, "is because you are an Englishman and +extraordinarily susceptible to conventions. Now I speak with many +experiences behind me. I had ancestors who enriched themselves with +fire and sword. I would much prefer to do the same thing. <a name="Pg_135" id="Pg_135"></a>As a +matter of fact, when the conditions admit of it, I do. I have fought +in whatever war has raged since the days when I was eighteen. If +another war should break out to-morrow, I should weigh the causes, +choose the side I preferred, and fight for it. But when there is no +war, I must yet live. I cannot drill troops all day, or sit in the +cafés. I must use my courage and my brains in whatever way seems +most beneficial to the cause which lies nearest to my heart." +</p> +<p> +"I cannot imagine," Arnold said frankly, "what that cause is." +</p> +<p> +"Some day, and before long," Sabatini replied, "you may know. At any +rate, we have talked enough of this for the present. Think over what +I have said. If at any time I should have an enterprise to propose +to you, you will at least recognize my point of view." +</p> +<p> +He touched the bell. A servant entered almost at once, carrying his +overcoat and silk hat. +</p> +<p> +"I have taken a box at a music-hall," he announced. "I believe that +my sister may join us there. I hope it will amuse you?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold rose eagerly to his feet. His eyes were bright already with +anticipation. +</p> +<p> +"And as for our conversation," Sabatini continued, as they stepped +into his little electric brougham, "dismiss it, for the present, +from your memory. Try and look out upon life with larger eyes, from +a broader point of view. Forget the laws that have been made by +other men. Try and frame for yourself a more rational code of +living. And judge not with the ready-made judgment of laws, but from +your own consciousness of right and wrong. You are at an +impressionable<a name="Pg_136" id="Pg_136"></a> age, and the effort should help to make a man of +you." +</p> +<p> +They glided softly along the crowded streets and up into Leicester +Square, where the blaze of lights seemed somehow comforting after +the cold darkness of the night. They stopped outside the <i>Empire</i> +and Arnold followed his guide with beating heart as they were shown +to their box. The door was thrown open. Fenella was there alone. She +was sitting a little way back in the box so as to escape observation +from the house. At the sound of their entrance she turned eagerly +toward them. Arnold, who was in advance, stopped short in the act of +greeting her. She was looking past him at her brother. She was +absolutely colorless, her lips were parted, her eyes distended as +though with terror. She had all the appearance of a woman who has +looked upon some terrible thing. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0016"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_137" id="Pg_137"></a>CHAPTER XV +</h2> +<h3> + THE RED SIGNET RING +</h3> +<p> +The few minutes which followed inspired Arnold with an admiration +for his companion which he never wholly lost. Sabatini recognized in +a moment his sister's state, but he did no more than shrug his +shoulders. +</p> +<p> +"My dear Fenella!" he said, in a tone of gentle reproof. +</p> +<p> +"You haven't heard?" she gasped. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini drew out a chair and seated himself. He glanced around at +the house and then began slowly to unbutton his white kid gloves. +</p> +<p> +"I did not buy an evening paper," he remarked. "Your face tells me +the news, of course. I gather that Starling has been arrested." +</p> +<p> +"He was arrested at five o'clock!" she exclaimed. "He will be +charged before the magistrates to-morrow." +</p> +<p> +"Then to-morrow," Sabatini continued calmly, "will be quite time +enough for you to begin to worry." +</p> +<p> +She looked at him for a moment steadfastly. She had ceased to +tremble now and her own appearance was becoming more natural. +</p> +<p> +"If one had but a man's nerve!" she murmured. "Dear Andrea, you make +me very much ashamed. Yet this is serious—surely it is very +serious?" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_138" id="Pg_138"></a>Arnold had withdrawn as far as possible out of hearing, but +Sabatini beckoned him forward. +</p> +<p> +"You are missing the ballet," he said. "You must take the front +chair there. You, too, will be interested in this news which my +sister has been telling me. Our friend Starling has been arrested, +after all. I was afraid he was giving himself away." +</p> +<p> +"For the murder of Mr. Rosario?" Arnold asked. +</p> +<p> +"Precisely," Sabatini replied. "A very unfortunate circumstance. Let +us hope that he will be able to prove his innocence." +</p> +<p> +"I don't see how he could have done it," Arnold said slowly. "We saw +him only about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour later coming up +from the restaurant on the other side of the hotel." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! he will come very near proving an alibi, without a doubt," +Sabatini declared. "He is quite clever when it comes to the point. I +wonder what sort of evidence they have against him." +</p> +<p> +"Is there any reason," Arnold asked, "why he should kill Mr. +Rosario?" +</p> +<p> +Sabatini studied his program earnestly. +</p> +<p> +"Well," he admitted, "that is rather a difficult question to answer. +Mr. Rosario was a very obstinate man, and he was certainly +persisting in a course of action against which I and many others had +warned him, a course of action which was certain to make him +exceedingly unpopular with a good many of us. I am not sure, +however, whether the facts were sufficiently well known—" +</p> +<p> +Fenella interrupted. She rose hurriedly to her feet. +</p> +<p> +"I am afraid, after all, that you will have to excuse <a name="Pg_139" id="Pg_139"></a>me," she +declared, moving to a seat at the back of the box. "I do not think +that I can stay here." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini nodded gravely. +</p> +<p> +"Perhaps you are right," he said. "For my own part, I, too, wish I +had more faith in Starling. As a matter of fact, I have none. When +they caught Crampton, one could sleep in one's bed; one knew. But +this man Starling is a nervous wreck. Who knows what story he may +tell—consciously or unconsciously—in his desperate attempts to +clear himself? You see," he continued, looking at Arnold, "there are +a great many of us to whom Mr. Rosario was personally, just at this +moment, obnoxious." +</p> +<p> +Fenella swayed in her chair. +</p> +<p> +"I am going home," she murmured. +</p> +<p> +"As you will," Sabatini agreed. "Perhaps Mr. Chetwode will be so +kind as to take you back? I have asked a friend to call here this +evening." +</p> +<p> +She turned to Arnold. +</p> +<p> +"Do!" she pleaded. "I am fit for nothing else. You will come with +me?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold was already standing with his coat upon his arm. +</p> +<p> +"Of course," he replied. +</p> +<p> +Her brother helped her on with her cloak. +</p> +<p> +"For myself," he declared, "I shall remain. I should not like to +miss my friend, if he comes, and they tell me that the second ballet +is excellent." +</p> +<a name="image-0004"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/img139.jpg" width="361" height="450" +alt="'For myself,' he declared, 'I remain.'" /> +</center> +<p class="cap">"For myself," he declared, "I remain." <i>Page</i> <a href="#Pg_139">139</a>. +</p> + +<p> +She took his hands. +</p> +<p> +"You have courage, dear one," she murmured. +</p> +<p> +He smiled. +</p> +<p> +"It is not courage," he replied, "it is philosophy. If to-morrow +were to be the end, would you not enjoy <a name="Pg_140" id="Pg_140"></a>to-day? The true +reasonableness of life is to live as though every day might be one's +last. We shall meet again very soon, Mr. Chetwode." +</p> +<p> +Arnold held out his hands. The whole affair was intensely +mysterious, and there were many things which he did not understand +in the least, but he knew that he was in the presence of a brave +man. +</p> +<p> +"Good night, Count Sabatini," he said. "Thank you very much for our +dinner. I am afraid I am an unconverted Philistine, and doomed to +the narrow ways, but, nevertheless, I have enjoyed my evening very +much." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini smiled charmingly. +</p> +<p> +"You are very British," he declared, "but never mind. Even a Briton +has been known to see the truth by gazing long enough. Take care of +my little sister, and au revoir!" +</p> +<p> +Her fingers clutched his arm as they passed along the promenade and +down the corridor into the street. The car was waiting, and in a +moment or two they were on their way to Hampstead. She was beginning +to look a little more natural, but she still clung to him. Arnold +felt his head dizzy as though with strong wine. +</p> +<p> +"Fenella," he said, using her name boldly, "your brother has been +talking to me to-night. All that he said I can understand, from his +point of view, but what may be well for him is not well for others +who are weaker. If you have been foolish, if the love of adventure +has led you into any folly, think now and ask yourself whether it is +worth while. Give it up before it is too late." +</p> +<p> +"It is because I have so little courage," she murmured, looking at +him with swimming eyes, "and one <a name="Pg_141" id="Pg_141"></a>must do something. I must live or +the tugging of the chain is there all the time." +</p> +<p> +"There are many things in life which are worth while," he declared. +"You are young and rich, and you have a husband who would do +anything in the world for you. It isn't worth while to get mixed up +in these dangerous schemes." +</p> +<p> +"What do you know of them?" she asked, curiously. +</p> +<p> +"Not much," he admitted. "Your brother was talking to-night a little +recklessly. One gathered—" +</p> +<p> +"Andrea sometimes talks wildly because it amuses him to deceive +people, to make them think that he is worse than he really is," she +interrupted. "He loves danger, but it is because he is a brave man." +</p> +<p> +"I am sure of it," Arnold replied, "but it does not follow that he +is a wise one." +</p> +<p> +She shrugged her shoulders. +</p> +<p> +"Tell me one of those many ways of living which are worth while!" +she whispered. "Point out one of them only. Remember that I, too, +have the spirit of restlessness in my veins. I must have excitement +at any cost." +</p> +<p> +He sighed. She was, indeed, in a strange place. +</p> +<p> +"It seems so hopeless," he said, "to try and interest you in the +ordinary things of life." +</p> +<p> +"No one could do it," she admitted. "I was not made for domesticity. +Sometimes I think that I was not made to be wife to any man. I am a +gambler at heart. I love the fierce draughts of life. Without them I +should die." +</p> +<p> +"Yet you married Samuel Weatherley!" Arnold exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +She laughed bitterly. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_142" id="Pg_142"></a>"Yes, I was in a prison house," she answered, "and I should have +welcomed any jailer who had come to set me free. I married him, and +sometimes I try to do my duty. Then the other longings come, and +Hampstead and my house, and my husband and my parties and my silly +friends, seem like part of a dream. Mr. Chetwode—Arnold!" +</p> +<p> +"Fenella!" +</p> +<p> +"We were to be friends, we were to help one another. To-night I am +afraid and I think that I am a little remorseful. It was my doing +that you dined to-night with Andrea. I have wanted to bring you, +too, into the life that my brother lives, into the life where I also +make sometimes excursions. It is not a wicked life, but I do not +know that it is a wise one. I was foolish. It was wrong of me to +disturb you. After all, you are good and solid and British, you were +meant for the other ways. Forget everything. It is less than a week +since you came first to dine with us. Blot out those few days. Can +you?" +</p> +<p> +"Not while I live," Arnold replied. "You forget that it was during +those few days that I met you." +</p> +<p> +"But you are foolish," she declared, laying her hand upon his and +smiling into his face, so that the madness came back and burned in +his blood. "There is no need for you to be a gambler, there is no +need for you to stake everything upon these single coups. You +haven't felt the call. Don't listen for it." +</p> +<p> +"Fenella," he whispered hoarsely, "what was I doing when Samuel +Weatherley was shipwrecked on your island!" +</p> +<p> +She laughed. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_143" id="Pg_143"></a>"Oh, you foolish boy!" she cried. "What difference would it have +made?" +</p> +<p> +"You can't tell," he answered. "Has no one ever moved you, Fenella? +Have you never known what it is to care for any one?" +</p> +<p> +"Never," she replied. "I only hope that I never shall." +</p> +<p> +"Why not?" +</p> +<p> +"Because I am a gambler," she declared; "because to me it would mean +risking everything. And I have seen no man in the whole world strong +enough and big enough for that. You are my very dear friend, Arnold, +and you are feeling very sentimental, and your head is turned just a +little, but after all you are only a boy. The taste of life is not +yet between your teeth." +</p> +<p> +He leaned closer towards her. She put his arm gently away, shaking +her head all the time. +</p> +<p> +"Do not think that I am a prude," she said. "You can kiss me if you +like, and yet I would very much rather that you did not. I do not +know why. I like you well enough, and certainly it is not from any +sense of right or wrong. I am like Andrea in that way. I make my own +laws. To-night I do not wish you to kiss me." +</p> +<p> +She was looking up at him, her eyes filled with a curious light, her +lips slightly parted. She was so close that the perfume in which her +clothes had lain, faint though it was, almost maddened him. +</p> +<p> +"I don't think that you have a heart at all!" he exclaimed, +hoarsely. +</p> +<p> +"It is the old selfish cry, that," she answered. "Please do not be +foolish, Arnold. Do not be like <a name="Pg_144" id="Pg_144"></a>those silly boys who only plague +one. With you and me, things are more serious." +</p> +<p> +The car came to a standstill before the portals of Pelham Lodge. +Arnold held her fingers for a moment or two after he had rung the +bell. Then he turned away. She called him back. +</p> +<p> +"Come in with me for a moment," she murmured. "To-night I am afraid. +Mr. Weatherley will be in bed. Come in and sit with me for a little +time until my courage returns." +</p> +<p> +He followed her into the house. There seemed to Arnold to be a +curious silence everywhere. She looked in at several rooms and +nodded. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Weatherley has gone to bed," she announced. "Come into my +sitting-room. We will stay there for five minutes, at least." +</p> +<p> +She led the way across the hall towards the little room into which +she had taken Arnold on his first visit. She tried the door and came +to a sudden standstill, shook the handle, and looked up at Arnold in +amazement. +</p> +<p> +"It seems as though it were locked," she remarked. "It's my own +sitting-room. No one else is allowed to enter it. Groves!" +</p> +<p> +She turned round. The butler had hastened to her side. +</p> +<p> +"What is the meaning of this?" she asked. "My sitting-room is locked +on the inside." +</p> +<p> +The man tried the handle incredulously. He, too, was dumbfounded. +</p> +<p> +"Where is your master?" Mrs. Weatherley asked. +</p> +<p> +"He retired an hour ago, madam," the man replied. "It is most +extraordinary, this." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_145" id="Pg_145"></a>She began to shiver. Groves leaned down and tried to peer through +the keyhole. He rose to his feet hastily. +</p> +<p> +"The lights are burning in the room, madam," he exclaimed, "and the +key is not in the door on the other side! It looks very much as +though burglars were at work there. If you will allow me, I will go +round to the window outside. There is no one else up." +</p> +<p> +"I will go with you," Arnold said. +</p> +<p> +"If you please, sir," the man replied. +</p> +<p> +They hurried out of the front door and around to the side of the +house. The lights were certainly burning in the room and the blind +was half drawn up. Arnold reached the window-sill with a spring and +peered in. +</p> +<p> +"I can see nothing," he said to Groves. "There doesn't seem to be +any one in the room." +</p> +<p> +"Can you get in, sir?" the man asked from below. "The sash seems to +be unfastened." +</p> +<p> +Arnold tried it and found it yielded to his touch. He pushed it up +and vaulted lightly into the room. Then he saw that a table was +overturned and a key was lying on the floor. He picked it up and +fitted it into the door. Fenella was waiting outside. +</p> +<p> +"I can see nothing here," he announced, "but a table has been +upset." +</p> +<p> +She pointed to the sofa and gripped his arm. +</p> +<p> +"Look!" she cried. "What is that?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold felt a thrill of horror, and for a moment the room swam +before his eyes. Then he saw clearly again. From underneath the +upholstery of the sofa, a man's hand was visible stretching into the +room almost as far as his elbow. They both stared, Arnold stupefied +with horror. On the little finger of the hand was a ring with a +blood-red seal! +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0017"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_146" id="Pg_146"></a>CHAPTER XVI +</h2> +<h3> + AN ADVENTURE +</h3> +<p> +Arnold, for a moment or two, felt himself incapable of speech or +movement. Fenella was hanging, a dead weight, upon his arm. The eyes +of both of them were riveted upon the hand which stretched into the +room. +</p> +<p> +"There is some one under the couch!" Fenella faltered at last. +</p> +<p> +He took a step forward. +</p> +<p> +"Wait," he begged, "—or perhaps you had better go away. I will see +who it is." +</p> +<p> +He moved toward the couch. She strove to hold him back. +</p> +<p> +"Arnold," she cried, hoarsely, "this is no business of yours! You +had better leave me! Groves is here, and the servants. Slip away +now, while you have the chance." +</p> +<p> +He looked at her in amazement. +</p> +<p> +"Why, Fenella," he exclaimed, "how can you suggest such a thing! +Besides," he added, "Groves saw me climb in at the window. He was +with me outside." +</p> +<p> +She wrung her hands. +</p> +<p> +"I forgot!" she moaned. "Don't move the sofa while I am looking!" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_147" id="Pg_147"></a>There was a knock at the door. They both turned round. It was +Groves' voice speaking. He had returned to the house and was waiting +outside. +</p> +<p> +"Can I come in, madam?" +</p> +<p> +Fenella moved slowly towards the door and admitted him. Then Arnold, +setting his teeth, rolled back the couch. A man was lying there, +stretched at full length. His face was colorless except for a great +blue bruise near his temple. Arnold stared at him for a moment with +horrified eyes. +</p> +<p> +"My God!" he muttered. +</p> +<p> +There was a brief silence. Fenella looked across at Arnold. +</p> +<p> +"You know him!" +</p> +<p> +Arnold's first attempt at speech failed. When the words came they +sounded choked. There was a horrible dry feeling in his throat. +</p> +<p> +"It is the man who looked in at the window that night," he +whispered. "I saw him—only a few hours ago. It is the same man." +</p> +<p> +Fenella came slowly to his side. She leaned over his shoulder. +</p> +<p> +"Is he dead?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +Her tone was cold and unnatural. Her paroxysm of fear seemed to have +passed. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know," Arnold answered. "Let Groves telephone for a +doctor." +</p> +<p> +The man half turned away, yet hesitated. Fenella fell on her knees +and bent over the prostrate body. +</p> +<p> +"He is not dead," she declared. "Groves, tell me exactly who is in +the house?" +</p> +<p> +"There is no one here at all, madam," the man answered, "except the +servants, and they are all in the <a name="Pg_148" id="Pg_148"></a>other wing. We have had no +callers whatever this evening." +</p> +<p> +"And Mr. Weatherley?" +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Weatherley arrived home about seven o'clock," Groves replied, +"dined early, and went to bed immediately afterwards. He complained +of a headache and looked very unwell." +</p> +<p> +Fenella rose slowly to her feet. She looked from Arnold to the +prostrate figure upon the carpet. +</p> +<p> +"Who has done this?" she asked, pointing downwards. +</p> +<p> +"It may have been an accident," Arnold suggested. +</p> +<p> +"An accident!" she repeated. "What was he doing in my sitting-room? +Besides, he could not have crept underneath the couch of his own +accord." +</p> +<p> +"Do you know who it is?" Arnold asked. +</p> +<p> +"Why should I know?" she demanded. +</p> +<p> +He hesitated. +</p> +<p> +"You remember the night of my first visit here—the face at the +window?" +</p> +<p> +She nodded. He pointed downward to the outstretched hand. +</p> +<p> +"That is the man," he declared. "He is wearing the same ring—the +red signet ring. I saw it upon his hand the night you and I were in +this room alone together, and he was watching the house. I saw it +again through the window of the swing-doors on the hand of the man +who killed Rosario. What does it mean, Fenella?" +</p> +<p> +"I do not know," she faltered. +</p> +<p> +"You must have some idea," he persisted, "as to who he is. You +seemed to expect his coming that night. You would not let me give +an alarm or send <a name="Pg_149" id="Pg_149"></a>for the police. It was the same man who killed +Rosario." +</p> +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"I do not believe that," she declared. +</p> +<p> +"If it were not the same man," Arnold continued, "it was at least +some one who was wearing the same ring. Tell me the truth, Fenella!" +</p> +<p> +She turned her head. Groves had come once more within hearing. +</p> +<p> +"I know nothing," she replied, hardly. "Groves, go and knock at the +door of your master's room," she added. "Ask him to put on his +dressing-gown and come down at once. Mr. Chetwode, come with me into +the library while I telephone for the doctor." +</p> +<p> +Arnold hesitated for a moment. +</p> +<p> +"Don't you think that I had better stay by him?" he suggested. +</p> +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"I will not be left alone," she replied. "I told you on the way here +that I was afraid. All the evening I knew that something would +happen." +</p> +<p> +They made their way to the front of the house and into the library. +She turned up the electric lights and fetched a telephone book. +Arnold rang up the number she showed him. +</p> +<p> +"What about the police station?" he asked, turning towards her with +the receiver still in his hand. "Oughtn't I to send for some one?" +</p> +<p> +"Not yet," she replied. "We are not supposed to know. The man may +have come upon some business. Let us wait and see what the doctor +says." +</p> +<p> +He laid down the receiver. She had thrown herself <a name="Pg_150" id="Pg_150"></a>into an +easy-chair and with a little impulsive gesture she held out one hand +towards him. +</p> +<p> +"Poor Arnold!" she murmured. "I am afraid that this is all very +bewildering to you, and your life was so peaceful until a week ago." +</p> +<p> +He held her fingers tightly. Notwithstanding the shadows under her +eyes, and the gleam of terror which still lingered there, she was +beautiful. +</p> +<p> +"I don't care about that," he answered, fervently. "I don't care +about anything except that I should like to understand a little more +clearly what it all means. I hate mysteries. I don't see why you +can't tell me. I am your friend. If it is necessary for me to say +nothing, I shall say nothing, but I hate the thoughts that come to +me sometimes. Tell me, why should that man have been haunting your +house the other evening? What did he want? And to-night—what made +him break into your room?" +</p> +<p> +She sighed. +</p> +<p> +"If it were only so simple as all that," she answered, "oh! I would +tell you so willingly. But it is not. There is so much which I do +not understand myself." +</p> +<p> +He leaned a little closer towards her. The silence of the room and +the house was unbroken. +</p> +<p> +"The man will die!" he said. "Who do you believe could have struck +him that blow in your room?" +</p> +<p> +"I do not know," she answered; "indeed I do not." +</p> +<p> +"You heard what Groves said," Arnold continued. "There is no one in +the house except the servants." +</p> +<p> +"That man was here," she answered. "Why not others? Listen." +</p> +<p> +There was the sound of shuffling footsteps in the hall. She held up +her finger cautiously. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_151" id="Pg_151"></a>"Be very careful before Mr. Weatherley," she begged. "It is an +ordinary burglary, this—no more." +</p> +<p> +The door was opened. Mr. Weatherley, in hasty and most unbecoming +deshabille, bustled in. His scanty gray hair was sticking out in +patches all over his head. He seemed, as yet, scarcely awake. With +one hand he clutched at the dressing-gown, the girdle of which was +trailing behind him. +</p> +<p> +"What is the meaning of this, Fenella?" he demanded. "Why am I +fetched from my room in this manner? You, Chetwode? What are you +doing here?" +</p> +<p> +"I have brought Mrs. Weatherley home, sir," Arnold answered. "We +noticed a light in her room and we made a discovery there. It looks +as though there has been an attempted burglary within the last hour +or so." +</p> +<p> +"Which room?" Mr. Weatherley asked. "Which room? Is anything +missing?" +</p> +<p> +"Nothing, fortunately," Arnold replied. "The man, by some means or +other, seems to have been hurt." +</p> +<p> +"Where is he?" Mr. Weatherley demanded. +</p> +<p> +"In my boudoir," Fenella replied. "We will all go. I have telephoned +for a doctor." +</p> +<p> +"A doctor? What for?" Mr. Weatherley inquired. "Who needs a doctor?" +</p> +<p> +"The burglar, if he is a burglar," she explained, gently. "Don't you +understand that all we found was a man, lying in the centre of the +room? He has had a fall of some sort." +</p> +<p> +"God bless my soul!" Mr. Weatherley said. "Well, come along, let's +have a look at him." +</p> +<p> +They trooped down the passage. Groves, waiting outside for them, +opened the door. Mr. Weatherley, who was first, looked all around +the apartment. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_152" id="Pg_152"></a>"Where is this man?" he demanded. "Where is he?" +</p> +<a name="image-0005"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/img152.jpg" width="352" height="450" +alt="'Where is this man?' he demanded." /> +</center> +<p class="cap">"Where is this man?" he demanded. <i>Page</i> <a href="#Pg_152">152</a>. +</p> + +<p> +Arnold, who followed, was stricken speechless. Fenella gave a little +cry. The couch had been wheeled back to its place. The body of the +man had disappeared! +</p> +<p> +"Where is the burglar?" Mr. Weatherley repeated, irritably. "Was +there ever any one here? Who in the name of mischief left that +window open?" +</p> +<p> +The window through which Arnold had entered the room was now wide +open. They hurried towards it. Outside, all was darkness. There was +no sound of footsteps, no sign of any person about. Mr. Weatherley +was distinctly annoyed. +</p> +<p> +"I should have thought you would have had more sense, Chetwode," he +said, testily. "You found a burglar here, and, instead of securing +him properly, you send up to me and go ringing up for doctors, and +in the meantime the man calmly slips off through the window." +</p> +<p> +Arnold made no reply. Mr. Weatherley's words seemed to come from a +long way off. He was looking at Fenella. +</p> +<p> +"The man was dead!" he muttered. +</p> +<p> +She, too, was white, but she shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"We thought so," she answered. "We were wrong." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley led the way to the front door. +</p> +<p> +"As the dead man seems to have cleared out," he said, "without +taking very much with him, I suggest that we go to bed. Groves had +better ring up the doctor and stop him, if he can; if not, he must +explain that he was sent for in error. Good night, Chetwode!" he +added, pointedly. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_153" id="Pg_153"></a>Arnold scarcely remembered his farewells. He passed out into the +street and stood for several moments upon the pavement. He looked +back at the house. +</p> +<p> +"The man was dead or dying!" he muttered to himself. "What does it +all mean?" +</p> +<p> +He walked slowly away. There was a policeman on the other side of +the road, taxicabs and carriages coming and going. He passed the +gate of Pelham Lodge and looked back toward the window of the +sitting-room. Within five minutes the man must have left that room +by the window. That he could have left it unaided, even if alive, +was impossible. Yet there was not anything in the avenue, or +thereabouts, to denote that anything unusual had occurred. He was on +the point of turning away when a sudden thought struck him. He +re-entered the gate softly and walked up the drive. Arrived at +within a few feet of the window, he paused and turned to the right. +A narrow path led him into a shrubbery. A few more yards and he +reached a wire fence. Stepping across it, he found himself in the +next garden. Here he paused for a moment and listened. The house +before which he stood was smaller than Pelham Lodge, and woefully +out of repair. The grass on the lawn was long and dank—even the +board containing the notice "To Let" had fallen flat, and lay among +it as in a jungle. The paths were choked with weeds, the windows +were black and curtainless. He made his way to the back of the house +and suddenly stopped short. This was a night of adventures, indeed! +On a level with the ground, the windows of one of the back rooms +were boarded up. Through the chinks he could distinctly see gleams +of light. Standing there, <a name="Pg_154" id="Pg_154"></a>holding his breath, he could even hear +the murmur of voices. There were men there—several of them, to +judge by the sound. He drew nearer and nearer until he found a chink +through which he could see. Then, for the first time, he hesitated. +It was not his affair, this. There were mysteries connected with +Pelham Lodge and its occupants which were surely no concern of his. +Why interfere? Danger might come of it—danger and other troubles. +Fenella would have told him if she had wished him to know. She +herself must have some idea as to the reason of this attempt upon +her house. Why not slip away quietly and forget it? It was at least +the most prudent course. Then, as he hesitated, the memory of +Sabatini's words, so recently spoken, came into his mind. Almost he +could see him leaning back in his chair with the faint smile upon +his lips. "You have not the spirit for adventure!" Then Arnold +hesitated no longer. Choosing every footstep carefully, he crept to +the window until he could press his face close to the chink through +which the light gleamed out into the garden. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0018"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_155" id="Pg_155"></a>CHAPTER XVII +</h2> +<h3> + THE END OF AN EVENING +</h3> +<p> +To see into the room at all, Arnold had been compelled to step down +from the grass on to a narrow, tiled path about half a yard wide, +which led to the back door. Standing on this and peering through the +chink in the boards, he gained at last a view of the interior of the +house. From the first, he had entered upon this search with a +certain presentiment. He looked into the room and shivered. It was +apparently the kitchen, and was unfurnished save for half a dozen +rickety chairs, and a deal table in the middle of the room. Upon +this was stretched the body of a motionless man. There were three +others in the room. One, who appeared to have some knowledge of +medicine, had taken off his coat and was listening with his ear +against the senseless man's heart. A brandy bottle stood upon the +table. They had evidently been doing what they could to restore him +to consciousness. Terrible though the sight was, Arnold found +something else in that little room to kindle his emotion. Two of the +men were unknown to him—dark-complexioned, ordinary middle-class +people; but the third he recognized with a start. It was Isaac who +stood there, a little aloof, waiting somberly for what his +companion's verdict might be. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_156" id="Pg_156"></a>Apparently, after a time, they gave up all hope of the still +motionless man. They talked together, glancing now and then towards +his body. The window was open at the top and Arnold could sometimes +hear a word. With great difficulty, he gathered that they were +proposing to remove him, and that they were taking the back way. +Presently he saw them lift the body down and wrap it in an overcoat. +Then Arnold stole away across the lawn toward a gate in the wall. It +was locked, but it was easy for him to climb over. He had barely +done so when he saw the three men come out of the back of the house, +carrying their wounded comrade. He waited till he was sure they were +coming, and then looked around for a hiding-place. He was now in a +sort of lane, ending in a <i>cul de sac</i> at the back of Mr. +Weatherley's house. There were gardens on one side, parallel with +the one through which he had just passed, and opposite were stables, +motor sheds and tool houses. He slipped a little way down the lane +and concealed himself behind a load of wood. About forty yards away +was a street, for which he imagined that they would probably make. +He held his breath and waited. +</p> +<p> +In a few minutes he saw the door in the wall open. One of the men +slipped out and looked up and down. He apparently signaled that the +coast was clear, and soon the others followed him. They came down +the lane, walking very slowly—a weird and uncanny little +procession. Arnold caught a glimpse of them as they passed. The two +larger men were supporting their fallen companion between them, each +with an arm under his armpits, so that the fact that he was really +being carried was barely noticeable. Isaac came behind, his <a name="Pg_157" id="Pg_157"></a>hands +thrust deep into his overcoat pocket, a cloth cap drawn over his +features. So they went on to the end of the lane. As soon as they +had reached it, Arnold followed them swiftly. When he gained the +street, they were about twenty yards to the right, looking around +them. It was a fairly populous neighborhood, with a row of villas on +the other side of the road, and a few shops lower down. They stood +there, having carefully chosen a place remote from the gas lamps, +until at last a taxicab came crawling by. They hailed it, and Isaac +engaged the driver's attention apparently with some complicated +direction, while the others lifted their burden into the taxicab. +One man got in with him. Isaac and the other, with ordinary +good-nights, strode away. The taxicab turned around and headed +westward. Arnold, with a long breath, watched them all disappear. +Then he, too, turned homewards. +</p> +<p> +It was almost midnight when Arnold was shown once more into the +presence of Sabatini. Sabatini, in a black velvet smoking jacket, +was lying upon a sofa in his library, with a recently published +edition <i>de luxe</i> of Alfred de Musset's poems upon his knee. He +looked up with some surprise at Arnold's entrance. +</p> +<p> +"Why, it is my strenuous young friend again!" he declared. "Have you +brought me a message from Fenella?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"She does not know that I have come." +</p> +<p> +"You have brought me some news on your own account, then?" +</p> +<p> +"I have brought you some news," Arnold admitted. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini looked at him critically. +</p> +<p> +"You look terrified," he remarked. "What have <a name="Pg_158" id="Pg_158"></a>you been doing? Help +yourself to a drink. You'll find everything on the sideboard there." +</p> +<p> +Arnold laid down his hat and mixed himself a whiskey and soda. He +drank it off before he spoke. +</p> +<p> +"Count Sabatini," he said, turning round, "I suppose you are used to +all this excitement. A man's life or death is little to you. I have +never seen a dead man before to-night. It has upset me." +</p> +<p> +"Naturally, naturally," Sabatini said, tolerantly. "I remember the +first man I killed—it was in a fair fight, too, but it sickened me. +But what have you been doing, my young friend, to see dead men? Have +you, too, been joining the army of plunderers?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"I took your sister home," he announced. "We found a light in her +sitting-room and the door locked. I got in through the window." +</p> +<p> +"This is most interesting," Sabatini declared, carefully marking the +place in his book and laying it aside. "What did you find there?" +</p> +<p> +"A dead man," Arnold answered, "a murdered man!" +</p> +<p> +"You are joking!" Sabatini protested. +</p> +<p> +"He had been struck on the forehead," Arnold continued, "and dragged +half under the couch. Only his arm was visible at first. We had to +move the couch to discover him." +</p> +<p> +"Do you know who he was?" Sabatini asked. +</p> +<p> +"No one had any idea," Arnold answered. "I think that I was the only +one who had ever seen him before. The night I dined at Mr. +Weatherley's for the first time and met you, I was with Mrs. +Weatherley in her room, and I saw that man steal up to the window as +though he were going to break in." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_159" id="Pg_159"></a>"This is most interesting," Sabatini declared. "Evidently a +dangerous customer. But you say that you found him dead. Who killed +him?" +</p> +<p> +"There was no one there who could say," Arnold declared. "There were +no servants in that part of the house, there had been no visitors, +and Mr. Weatherley had been in bed since half-past nine. We +telephoned for a doctor, and we fetched Mr. Weatherley out of bed. +Then a strange thing happened. We took Mr. Weatherley to the room, +which we had left for less than five minutes, and there was no one +there. The man had been carried away." +</p> +<p> +"Really," Sabatini protested, "your story gets more interesting +every moment. Don't tell me that this is the end!" +</p> +<p> +"It is not," Arnold replied. "It seemed then as though there were +nothing more to be done. Evidently he had either been only stunned +and had got up and left the room by the window, or he had +accomplices who had fetched him away. Mr. Weatherley was very much +annoyed with us and we had to make excuses to the doctor. Then I +left." +</p> +<p> +"Well?" Sabatini said. "You left. You didn't come straight here?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"When I got into the road, I could see that there was a policeman on +duty on the other side of the way, and quite a number of people +moving backwards and forwards all the time. It seemed impossible +that they could have brought him out there if he had been fetched +away. Something made me remember what I had noticed on the evening I +had dined there—that there was a small empty house next door. I +walked back up the drive of <a name="Pg_160" id="Pg_160"></a>Pelham Lodge, turned into the +shrubbery, and there I found that there was an easy way into the +next garden. I made my way to the back of the house. I saw lights in +the kitchen. There were three of his companions there, and the dead +man. They were trying to see if they could revive him. I looked +through a chink in the boarded window and I saw everything." +</p> +<p> +"Trying to revive him," Sabatini remarked. "Evidently there was some +doubt as to his being dead, then." +</p> +<p> +"I think they had come to the conclusion that he was dead," Arnold +replied; "for after a time they put on his overcoat and dragged him +out by the back entrance, down some mews, into another street. I +followed them at a distance. They hailed a taxi. One man got in with +him and drove away, the others disappeared. I came here." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini reached out his hand for a cigarette. +</p> +<p> +"I have seldom," he declared, "listened to a more interesting +episode. You didn't happen to hear the direction given to the driver +of the taxicab?" +</p> +<p> +"I did not." +</p> +<p> +"You have no idea, I suppose," Sabatini asked, with a sudden keen +glance, "as to the identity of the man whom you believe to be dead?" +</p> +<p> +"None whatever," Arnold replied, "except that it was the same man +who was watching the house on the night when I dined there. He told +me then that he wanted Rosario. There was something evil in his face +when he mentioned the name. I saw his hand grasping the window-sill. +He was wearing a ring—a signet ring with a blood-red stone." +</p> +<p> +"This is most engrossing," Sabatini murmured. "A signet ring with a +blood-red stone! Wasn't there a ring <a name="Pg_161" id="Pg_161"></a>answering to that description +upon the finger of the man who stabbed Rosario?" +</p> +<p> +"There was," Arnold answered. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini knocked the ash from his cigarette. +</p> +<p> +"The coincidence," he remarked, "if it is a coincidence, is a little +extraordinary. By the bye, though, you have as yet given me no +explanation as to your visit here. Why do you connect me with this +adventure of yours?" +</p> +<p> +"I do not connect you with it at all," Arnold answered; "yet, for +some reason or other, I am sure that your sister knew more about +this man and his presence in her sitting-room than she cared to +confess. When I left there, everything was in confusion. I have come +to tell you the final result, so far as I know it. You will tell her +what you choose. What she knows, I suppose you know. I don't ask for +your confidence. I have had enough of these horrors. Tooley Street +is bad enough, but I think I would rather sit in my office and add +up figures all day long, than go through another such night." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini smiled. +</p> +<p> +"You are young, as yet," he said. "Life and death seem such terrible +things to you, such tragedies, such enormous happenings. In youth, +one loses one's sense of proportion. Life seems so vital, the +universe so empty, without one's own personality. Take a pocketful +of cigarettes, my dear Mr. Chetwode, and make your way homeward. We +shall meet again in a day or two, I dare say, and by that time your +little nightmare will not seem so terrible." +</p> +<p> +"You will let your sister know?" Arnold begged. +</p> +<p> +"She shall know all that you have told me," Sabatini <a name="Pg_162" id="Pg_162"></a>promised. "I +do not say that it will interest her—it may or it may not. In any +case, I thank you for coming." +</p> +<p> +Arnold was dismissed with a pleasant nod, and passed out into the +streets, now emptying fast. He walked slowly back to his rooms. +Already the sense of unwonted excitement was passing. Sabatini's +strong, calm personality was like a wonderful antidote. After all, +it was not his affair. It was possible, after all, that the man was +an ordinary burglar. And yet, if so, what was Isaac doing with him? +He glanced in front of him to where the lights of the two great +hotels flared up to the sky. Somewhere just short of them, before +the window of her room, Ruth would be sitting watching. He quickened +his steps. Perhaps he should find her before he went to bed. Perhaps +he might even see Isaac come in! +</p> +<p> +Big Ben was striking the half-hour past midnight as Arnold stood on +the top landing of the house at the corner of Adam Street, and +listened. To the right was his own bare apartment; on the left, the +rooms where Isaac and Ruth lived together. He struck a match and +looked into his own apartment. There was a note twisted up for him +on his table, scribbled in pencil on a half sheet of paper. He +opened it and read: +</p> +<p class="blockquot"> + + If you are not too late, will you knock at the door and + wish me good night? Isaac will be late. Perhaps he will + not be home at all. +</p> +<p class="noindent"> +He stepped back and knocked softly at the opposite door. In a moment +or two he heard the sound of her stick. She opened the door and came +out. Her eyes shone through the darkness at him but her face was +white and strained. He shook his head. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_163" id="Pg_163"></a>"Ruth," he said, "you heard the time? And you promised to go to bed +at ten o'clock!" +</p> +<p> +She smiled. He passed his arm around her, holding her up. +</p> +<p> +"To-night I was afraid," she whispered. "I do not know what it was +but there seemed to be strange voices about everywhere. I was afraid +for Isaac and afraid for you." +</p> +<p> +"My dear girl," he laughed, "what was there to fear for me? I had a +very good dinner with a very charming man. Afterwards, we went to a +music-hall for a short time, I went back to his rooms, and here I +am, just in time to wish you good night. What could the voices have +to tell you about that?" +</p> +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"Sometimes," she said, "there is danger in the simplest things one +does. I don't understand what it is," she went on, a little wearily, +"but I feel that I am losing you, you are slipping away, and day by +day Isaac gets more mysterious, and when he comes home sometimes his +face is like the face of a wolf. There is a new desire born in him, +and I am afraid. I think that if I am left alone here many more +nights like this, I shall go mad. I tried to undress, Arnie, but I +couldn't. I threw myself down on the bed and I had to bite my +handkerchief. I have been trembling. Oh, if you could hear those +voices! If you could understand the fears that are nameless, how +terrible they are!" +</p> +<p> +She was shaking all over. He passed his other arm around her and +lifted her up. +</p> +<p> +"Come and sit with me in my room for a little time," he said. "I +will carry you back presently." +</p> +<p> +She kissed him on the forehead. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_164" id="Pg_164"></a>"Dear Arnold!" she whispered. "For a few minutes, then—not too +long. To-night I am afraid. Always I feel that something will +happen. Tell me this?" +</p> +<p> +"What is it, dear?" +</p> +<p> +"Why should Isaac press me so hard to tell him where you were going +to-night? You passed him on the stairs, didn't you?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold nodded. +</p> +<p> +"He was with another man," he said, with a little shiver. "Did that +man come up to his rooms?" +</p> +<p> +"They both came in together," Ruth said. "They talked in a corner +for some time. The man who was with Isaac seemed terrified about +something. Then Isaac came over to me and asked about you." +</p> +<p> +"What did you tell him?" Arnold asked. +</p> +<p> +"I thought it best to know nothing at all," she replied. "I simply +said that you were going to have dinner with some of your new +friends." +</p> +<p> +"Does he know who they are?" +</p> +<p> +Ruth nodded. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, we have spoken of that together," she admitted. "I had to tell +him of your good fortune. He knows how well you have been getting on +with Mr. and Mrs. Weatherley. Listen!—is that some one coming?" +</p> +<p> +He turned around with her still in his arms, and started so +violently that if her fingers had not been locked behind his neck he +must have dropped her. Within a few feet of them was Isaac. He had +come up those five flights of stone steps without making a sound. +Even in that first second or two of amazement, Arnold noticed that +he was wearing canvas shoes with rubber soles. He stood with his +long fingers gripping the worn balustrade, <a name="Pg_165" id="Pg_165"></a>only two steps below +them, and his face was like the face of some snarling animal. +</p> +<p> +"Ruth," he demanded, hoarsely, "what are you doing out here at this +time of night—with him?" +</p> +<p> +She slipped from Arnold's arms and leaned on her stick. To all +appearance, she was the least discomposed of the three. +</p> +<p> +"Isaac," she answered, "Uncle Isaac, I was lonely—lonely and +terrified. You left me so strangely, and it is so silent up here. I +left a little note and asked Arnold, when he came home, to bid me +good night. He knocked at my door two minutes ago." +</p> +<p> +Isaac threw open the door of their apartments. +</p> +<p> +"Get in," he ordered. "I'll have an end put to it, Ruth. Look at +him!" he cried, mockingly, pointing to Arnold's evening clothes. +"What sort of a friend is that, do you think, for us? He wears the +fetters of his class. He is a hanger-on at the tables of our +enemies." +</p> +<p> +"You can abuse me as much as you like," Arnold replied, calmly, "and +I shall still believe that I am an honest man. Are you, Isaac?" +</p> +<p> +Isaac's eyes flashed venom. +</p> +<p> +"Honesty! What is honesty?" he snarled. "What is it, I ask you? Is +the millionaire honest who keeps the laws because he has no call to +break them? Is that honesty? Is he a better man than the father who +steals to feed his hungry children? Is the one honest and the other +a thief? You smug hypocrite!" +</p> +<p> +Arnold was silent for a moment. It flashed into his mind that here, +from the other side, came very nearly the same doctrine as Sabatini +had preached to him across his rose-shaded dining table. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_166" id="Pg_166"></a>"It is too late to argue with you, Isaac," he said, pleasantly. +"Besides, I think that you and I are too far apart. But you must +leave me Ruth for my little friend. She would be lonely without me, +and I can do her no harm." +</p> +<p> +Isaac opened his lips,—lips that were set in an ugly sneer—but he +met the steady fire of Arnold's eyes, and the words he would have +spoken remained unsaid. +</p> +<p> +"Get to your room, then," he ordered. +</p> +<p> +He passed on as though to enter his own apartments. Then suddenly he +stopped and listened. There was the sound of a footstep, a heavy, +marching footstep, coming along the Terrace below. With another look +now upon his face, he slunk to the window and peered down. The +footsteps came nearer and nearer, and Arnold could hear him +breathing like a hunted animal. Then they passed, and he stood up, +wiping the sweat from his forehead. +</p> +<p> +"I have been hurrying," he muttered, half apologetically. "We had a +crowded meeting. Good night!" +</p> +<p> +He turned into his rooms and closed the door. Arnold looked after +him for a moment and then up the street below. When he turned into +his own rooms, he was little enough inclined for sleep. He drew up +his battered chair to the window, threw it open, and sat looking +out. The bridge and the river were alike silent now. The sky signs +had gone, the murky darkness blotted out the whole scene, against +which the curving arc of lights shone with a fitful, ghostly light. +For a moment his fancy served him an evil trick. He saw the barge +with the blood-red sails. A cargo of evil beings thronged its side. +He saw their faces leering at him. Sabatini was there, standing at +the helm, calm <a name="Pg_167" id="Pg_167"></a>and scornful. There was the dead man and Isaac, +Groves the butler, Fenella herself—pale as death, her hands +clasping at her bosom as though in pain. Arnold turned, shivering, +away; his head sank into his hands. It seemed to him that poison had +crept into those dreams. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0019"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_168" id="Pg_168"></a>CHAPTER XVIII +</h2> +<h3> + DISCUSSING THE MYSTERY +</h3> +<p> +At precisely half-past nine the next morning, Mr. Weatherley entered +his office in Tooley Street. His appearance, as he passed through +the outer office, gave rise to some comment. +</p> +<p> +"The governor looks quite himself again," young Tidey remarked, +turning round on his stool. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis, who was collecting the letters, nodded. +</p> +<p> +"It's many months since I've heard him come in whistling," he +declared. +</p> +<p> +Arnold, in the outer office, received his chief's morning salutation +with some surprise. Mr. Weatherley was certainly, to all appearance, +in excellent spirits. +</p> +<p> +"Glad to see your late hours don't make any difference in the +morning, Chetwode," he said, pleasantly. "You seem to be seeing +quite a good deal of the wife, eh?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold was almost dumbfounded. Any reference to the events of the +preceding evening was, for the moment, beyond him. Mr. Weatherley +calmly hung up his silk hat, took out the violets from the +button-hole of his overcoat and carried them to his desk. +</p> +<p> +"Come along, Jarvis," he invited, as the latter entered<a name="Pg_169" id="Pg_169"></a> with a +rustling heap of correspondence. "We'll sort the letters as quickly +as possible this morning. You come on the other side, Chetwode, and +catch hold of those which we keep to deal with together. Those Mr. +Jarvis can handle, I'll just initial. Let me see—you're sure those +bills of lading are in order, Jarvis?" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis plunged into a few particulars, to which his chief +listened with keen attention. For half an hour or so they worked +without a pause. Mr. Weatherley was quite at his best. His +instructions were sage, and his grasp of every detail referred to in +the various letters was lucid and complete. When at last Mr. Jarvis +left with his pile, he did not hesitate to spread the good news. Mr. +Weatherley had got over his fit of depression, from whatever cause +it had arisen; a misunderstanding with his wife, perhaps, or a +certain amount of weariness entailed by his new manner of living. At +all events, something had happened to set matters right. Mr. Jarvis +was quite fluent upon the subject, and every one started his day's +work with renewed energy. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley's energy did not evaporate with the departure of his +confidential clerk. He motioned Arnold to a chair, and for another +three-quarters of an hour he dictated replies to the letters which +he had sorted out for personal supervision. When at last this was +done, he leaned back in his seat, fetched out a box of cigars, +carefully selected one and lit it. +</p> +<p> +"Now you had better get over to your corner and grind that lot out, +Chetwode," he said pleasantly. "How are you getting on with the +typing, eh?" +</p> +<p> +"I am getting quicker," Arnold replied, still wondering whether the +whole events of last week had not been <a name="Pg_170" id="Pg_170"></a>a dream. "I think, with a +little more practice, I shall be able to go quite fast enough." +</p> +<p> +"Just so," his employer assented. "By the bye, is it my fancy, or +weren't you reading the newspaper when I came in? No time for +newspapers, you know, after nine o'clock." +</p> +<p> +Arnold rose to his feet. This was more than he could bear! +</p> +<p> +"I am sorry if I seemed inattentive, sir," he said. "Under the +circumstances, I could not help dwelling a little over this +paragraph. Perhaps you will look at it yourself, sir?" +</p> +<p> +He brought it over to the desk. Mr. Weatherley put on his spectacles +with great care and drew the paper towards him. +</p> +<p> +"Hm!" he ejaculated. "My eyesight isn't so good as it was, Chetwode, +and your beastly ha'penny papers have such small print. Read it out +to me—read it out to me while I smoke." +</p> +<p> +He leaned back in his padded chair, his hands folded in front of +him, his cigar in the corner of his mouth. Arnold smoothed the paper +out and read: +</p> + +<p class="center">TERRIBLE DEATH OF AN UNKNOWN MAN.<br /> + FOUND DEAD IN A TAXICAB. +</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p> Early this morning, a taxicab driver entered the police + station at Finchley Road North, and alleged that a + passenger whom he had picked up some short time before, + was dead. Inspector Challis, who was on duty at the time, + hastened out to the vehicle and found that the driver's + statement was apparently true. The deceased was carried + into the police station and a doctor was sent for. The + chauffeur's statement was that about midnight he was + hailed in the Grove End Road, Hampstead, by four men, one + of whom, evidently the <a name="Pg_171" id="Pg_171"></a>deceased, he imagined to be the + worse for drink. Two of them entered the taxicab, and one + of the others directed him to drive to Finchley. After + some distance, however, the driver happened to glance + inside, and saw that only one of his passengers was + there. He at once stopped the vehicle, looked in at the + window, and, finding that the man was unconscious, drove + on to the police station. +</p> +<p> + Later information seems to point to foul play, and there + is no doubt whatever that an outrage has been committed. + There was a wound upon the deceased's forehead, which the + doctor pronounces as the cause of death, and which had + evidently been dealt within the last hour or so with some + blunt instrument. The taxicab driver has been detained, + and a full description of the murdered man's companions + has been issued to the police. It is understood that + nothing was found upon the deceased likely to help + towards his identification. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +Arnold looked up as he finished. Mr. Weatherley was still smoking. +He seemed, indeed, very little disturbed. +</p> +<p> +"A sensational story, that, Chetwode," he remarked. "You're not +supposing, are you, that it was the same man who broke into my house +last night?" +</p> +<p> +"I know that it was, sir," Arnold replied. +</p> +<p> +"You know that it was," Mr. Weatherley repeated, slowly. "Come, what +do you mean by that?" +</p> +<p> +"I mean that after I left your house last night, sir," Arnold +explained, "I realized the impossibility of that man having been +carried down your drive and out into the road, with a policeman on +duty directly opposite, and a cabstand within a few yards. I +happened to remember that there was an empty house next door, and it +struck me that it might be worth while examining the premises." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley withdrew the cigar from his mouth. +</p> +<p> +"You did that, eh?" +</p> +<p> +"I did," Arnold admitted. "I made my way to the <a name="Pg_172" id="Pg_172"></a>back, and I found a +light in the room which presumably had been the kitchen. From a +chink in the boarded-up window I saw several men in the room, +including the man whom we discovered in your wife's boudoir, and who +had been spirited away. He was lying motionless upon the table, and +one of the others was apparently trying to restore him. When they +found that it was useless, they took him off with them by the back +way into Grove Lane. I saw two of them enter a taxicab and the other +two make off." +</p> +<p> +"And what did you do then?" Mr. Weatherley asked. +</p> +<p> +"I went and told Count Sabatini what I had seen," Arnold replied. +</p> +<p> +"And after that?" +</p> +<p> +"I went home." +</p> +<p> +"You told no one else but Count Sabatini?" Mr. Weatherley persisted. +</p> +<p> +"No one," Arnold answered. "I bought a paper on my way to business +this morning, and read what I have just read to you." +</p> +<p> +"You haven't been rushing about ringing up to give information, or +anything of that sort?" +</p> +<p> +"I have done nothing," Arnold asserted. "I waited to lay the matter +before you." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley knocked the ash from his cigar, and, discovering that +it was out, carefully relit it. +</p> +<p> +"Chetwode," he said, "I have advanced you from something a little +better than an office-boy, very rapidly, because it seemed to me +that you had qualities. The time has arrived to test them. The +secret of success in life is minding your own business. I am going +to ask you to mind your own business in this matter." +</p> +<p> +"You mean," Arnold asked, "that you do not wish <a name="Pg_173" id="Pg_173"></a>me to give any +information, to say anything about last night?" +</p> +<p> +"I do not wish my name, or the name of my wife, or the name of my +house, to be associated with this affair at all," Mr. Weatherley +replied. "Mrs. Weatherley would be very much upset and it is, +besides, entirely unnecessary." +</p> +<p> +Arnold hesitated for a moment. +</p> +<p> +"It is a serious matter, sir, if you will permit me to say so," he +said slowly. "The man was murdered—that seems to be clear—and, +from what you and I know, it certainly seems that he was murdered in +your house." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"That is not my impression," he declared. "The man was found dead in +Mrs. Weatherley's boudoir, but there was no one in the house or +apparently within reach who was either likely to have committed such +a crime, or who even could possibly have done so. On the other hand, +there are this man's companions, desperate fellows, no doubt, within +fifty yards all the time. My own impression is that he was killed +first and then placed in the spot where he was found. However that +may be, I don't want my house made the rendezvous of all the +interviewers and sightseers in the neighborhood. You and I will keep +our counsel, Arnold Chetwode." +</p> +<p> +"Might I ask," Arnold said, "if you knew this man—if you had ever +come into contact with him or seen him before?" +</p> +<p> +"Certainly not," Mr. Weatherley replied. "What business could I +possibly have with a person of that description? He seems to have +been, if not an habitual criminal himself, at least an associate of +criminals, and <a name="Pg_174" id="Pg_174"></a>he was without doubt a foreigner. Between you and +me, Chetwode, I haven't the least doubt that the fellow was one of a +gang of the worst class of burglars. Wherever he got that blow from, +it was probably no more than he deserved." +</p> +<p> +"But, Mr. Weatherley," Arnold protested, "don't you think that you +ought to have an investigation among your household?" +</p> +<p> +"My dear young fellow," Mr. Weatherley answered, testily, "I keep no +men-servants at all except old Groves, who's as meek-spirited as a +baby, and a footman whom my wife has just engaged, and who was out +for the evening. A blow such as the paper describes was certainly +never struck by a woman, and there was just as certainly no other +man in my house. There is nothing to inquire about. As a matter of +fact, I am not curious. The man is dead and there's an end of it." +</p> +<p> +"You will bear in mind, sir," Arnold said, "that if it comes to +light afterwards, as it very probably may, that the man was first +discovered in Mrs. Weatherley's boudoir, the scandal and gossip will +be a great deal worse than if you came forward and told the whole +truth now." +</p> +<p> +"I take my risk of that," Mr. Weatherley replied, coolly. "There +isn't a soul except Groves who saw him, and Groves is my man. Now be +so good as to get on with those letters, Chetwode, and consider the +incident closed." +</p> +<p> +Arnold withdrew to his typewriter and commenced his task. The day +had commenced with a new surprise to him. The nervous, shattered Mr. +Weatherley of yesterday was gone. After a happening in his house +which <a name="Pg_175" id="Pg_175"></a>might well have had a serious effect upon him, he seemed not +only unmoved but absolutely restored to cheerfulness. He was reading +the paper for himself now, and the room was rapidly becoming full of +tobacco smoke. Arnold spelled out his letters one by one until the +last was finished. Then he took them over to his employer to sign. +One by one Mr. Weatherley read them through, made an alteration here +and there, then signed them with his large, sprawling hand. Just as +he had finished the last, the telephone by his side rang. He took +the receiver and placed it to his ear. Arnold waited until he had +finished. Mr. Weatherley himself said little. He seemed to be +listening. Towards the end, he nodded slightly. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, I quite understand," he said, "quite. That was entirely my own +opinion. No case at all, you say? Good!" +</p> +<p> +He replaced the receiver and leaned back in his chair. For the first +time, when he spoke his voice was a little hoarse. +</p> +<p> +"Chetwode," he said, "ring up my house—16, Post Office, Hampstead. +Ask Groves to tell his mistress that I thought she might be +interested to hear that Mr. Starling will be discharged this +morning. The police are abandoning the case against him, at present, +for lack of evidence." +</p> +<p> +Arnold stood for a moment quite still. Then he took up the receiver +and obeyed his orders. Groves' voice was as quiet and respectful as +ever. He departed with the message and Arnold rang off. Then he +turned to Mr. Weatherley. +</p> +<p> +"Have you any objection to my ringing up some one else and telling +him, too?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_176" id="Pg_176"></a>Mr. Weatherley looked at him. +</p> +<p> +"You are like all of them," he remarked. "I suppose you think he's a +sort of demigod. I never knew a young man yet that he couldn't twist +round his little finger. You want to ring up Count Sabatini, I +suppose?" +</p> +<p> +"I should like to," Arnold admitted. +</p> +<p> +"Very well, go on," Mr. Weatherley grumbled. "Let him know. Perhaps +it will be as well." +</p> +<p> +Arnold took from his pocket the note which Sabatini had written to +him, and which contained his telephone number. Then he rang up. The +call was answered by his valet. +</p> +<p> +"In one moment, sir," he said. "The telephone rings into His +Excellency's bedchamber. He shall speak to you himself." +</p> +<p> +A minute or two passed. Then the slow, musical voice of Sabatini +intervened. +</p> +<p> +"Who is that speaking?" +</p> +<p> +"It is I—Arnold Chetwode," Arnold answered. "I am speaking from the +office in the city. I heard some news a few minutes ago which I +thought might interest you." +</p> +<p> +"Good!" Sabatini replied, stifling what seemed to be a yawn. "You +have awakened me from a long sleep, so let your news be good, my +young friend." +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Weatherley hears from a solicitor at Bow Street that the police +have abandoned the charge against Mr. Starling," Arnold announced. +"He will be set at liberty as soon as the court opens." +</p> +<p> +There was a moment's silence. It was as though the person at the +other end had gone away. +</p> +<p> +"Did you hear?" Arnold asked. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_177" id="Pg_177"></a>"Yes, I heard," Sabatini answered. "I am very much obliged to you +for ringing me up, my young friend. I quite expected to hear your +news during the day. No one would really suppose that a respectable +man like Starling would be guilty of such a ridiculous action. +However, it is pleasant to know. I thank you. I take my coffee and +rolls this morning with more appetite." +</p> +<p> +Arnold set down the telephone. Mr. Weatherley, had risen to his feet +and walked as far as the window. On his way back to his place, he +looked at the little safe which he had made over to his secretary. +</p> +<p> +"You've got my papers there all right, Chetwode?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"Certainly, sir," Arnold answered. "I hope, however, we may never +need to use them." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley smiled. He was busy choosing another cigar. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0020"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_178" id="Pg_178"></a>CHAPTER XIX +</h2> +<h3> + IN THE COUNTRY +</h3> +<p> +They sat on the edge of the wood, and a west wind made music for +them overhead among the fir trees. From their feet a clover field +sloped steeply to a honeysuckle-wreathed hedge. Beyond that, +meadow-land, riven by the curving stream which stretched like a +thread of silver to the blue, hazy distance. Arnold laughed softly +with the pleasure of it, but the wonder kept Ruth tongue-tied. +</p> +<p> +"I feel," she murmured, "as though I were in a theatre for the first +time. Everything is strange." +</p> +<p> +"It is the theatre of nature," Arnold replied. "If you close your +eyes and listen, you can hear the orchestra. There is a lark singing +above my head, and a thrush somewhere back in the wood there." +</p> +<p> +"And see, in the distance there are houses," Ruth continued softly. +"Just fancy, Arnold, people, if they had no work to do, could live +here, could live always out of sight of the hideous, smoky city, out +of hearing of its thousand discords." +</p> +<p> +He smiled. +</p> +<p> +"There are a great many who feel like that," he said, his eyes fixed +upon the horizon, "and then, as <a name="Pg_179" id="Pg_179"></a>the days go by, they find that +there is something missing. The city of a thousand discords +generally has one clear cry, Ruth." +</p> +<p> +"For you, perhaps," she answered, "because you are young and because +you are ambitious. But for me who lie on my back all day long, think +of the glory of this!" +</p> +<p> +Arnold slowly sat up. +</p> +<p> +"Upon my word!" he exclaimed. "Why not. Why shouldn't you stay in +the country for the summer? I hate London, too. There are cheap +tickets, and bicycles, and all sorts of things. I wonder whether we +couldn't manage it." +</p> +<p> +She said nothing. His thoughts were busy with the practical side of +it. There was an opportunity here, too, to prepare her for what he +felt sure was inevitable. +</p> +<p> +"You know, Ruth," he said, "I don't wish to say anything against +Isaac, and I don't want to make you uneasy, but you know as well as +I do that he has a strange maggot in his brain. When I first heard +him talk, I thought of him as a sort of fanatic. It seems to me that +he has changed. I am not sure that such changes as have taken place +in him lately have not been for the worse." +</p> +<p> +"Tell me what you mean?" she begged. +</p> +<p> +"I mean," he continued, "that Isaac, who perhaps in himself may be +incapable of harm, might be an easy prey to those who worked upon +his wild ideas. Hasn't it struck you that for the last few days—" +</p> +<p> +She clutched at his hand and stopped him. +</p> +<p> +"Don't!" she implored. "These last few days have been horrible. +Isaac has not left his room except to creep out sometimes into mine. +He keeps his door <a name="Pg_180" id="Pg_180"></a>locked. What he does I don't know, but if he +hears a step on the stairs he slinks away, and his face is like the +face of a hunted wolf. Arnold, do you think that he has been getting +into trouble?" +</p> +<p> +"I am afraid," Arnold said, regretfully, "that it is not impossible. +Tell me, Ruth, you are very fond of him?" +</p> +<p> +"He was my mother's brother—the only relative I have in the world," +she answered. "What could I do without him?" +</p> +<p> +"He doesn't seem to want you particularly, just now, at any rate," +Arnold said. "I don't see why we shouldn't take rooms out at one of +these little villages. I could go back and forth quite easily. You'd +like it, wouldn't you, Ruth? Fancy lying in a low, comfortable +chair, and looking up at the blue sky, and listening to the birds +and the humming of bees. The hours would slip by." +</p> +<p> +"I should love it," she murmured. +</p> +<p> +"Then why not?" he cried. "I'll stop the car at the next village we +come to, and make inquiries." +</p> +<p> +She laid her hand softly upon his. +</p> +<p> +"Arnold, dear," she begged, "it sounds very delightful, and yet, +can't you see it is impossible? I am not quite like other women, +perhaps, but, after all, I am a woman. It is for your sake—for your +sake, mind—that I think of this." +</p> +<p> +He turned and looked at her—looked at her, perhaps, with new eyes. +She was stretched almost at full length upon the grass, her head, +which had been supported by her clasped hands, now turned towards +him. As she lay there, with her stick out of sight, her lips a +little parted, her eyes soft with the sunlight, a faint <a name="Pg_181" id="Pg_181"></a>touch of +color in her cheeks, he suddenly realized the significance of her +words. Her bosom was rising and falling quickly. Her plain black +dress, simply made though it was, showed no defect of figure. Her +throat was soft and white. The curve of her body was even graceful. +The revelation of these things came as a shock to Arnold, yet it was +curious that he found a certain pleasure in it. +</p> +<p> +"I had forgotten, Ruth," he said slowly, "but does it matter? You +have no one in the world but Isaac, and I have no one in the world +at all. Don't you think we can afford to do what seems sensible?" +</p> +<p> +Her eyes never left his face. She made no sign either of assent or +dissent. +</p> +<p> +"Arnold," she declared, "it is true that I am an outcast. I have +scarcely a relative in the world. But what you say about yourself is +hard to believe. I have never asked you questions because it is not +my business, but there are many little things by which one tells. I +think that somewhere you have a family belonging to you with a name, +even if, for any reason, you do not choose just now to claim them." +</p> +<p> +He made no direct reply. He watched for some moments a white-sailed +boat come tacking down the narrow strip of river. +</p> +<p> +"I am my own master, Ruth," he said; "I have no one else to please +or to consider. I understand what you have just told me, but if I +gave you my word that I would try and be to you what Isaac might +have been if he had not been led away by these strange ideas, +wouldn't you trust me, Ruth?" +</p> +<p> +"It isn't that!" she exclaimed. "Trust you? Why, you know that I +would! It isn't that I mind <a name="Pg_182" id="Pg_182"></a>for myself either what people would +say—or anything, but I am thinking of your new friends, of your +future. If they knew that you were living down in the country with a +girl, even though she were an invalid, who was no relation at all, +don't you think that it might make a difference?" +</p> +<p> +"Of course not," he replied, "and, in any case, what should I care? +It would be the making of you, Ruth. You would be able to pick up +your strength, so that when our money-box is full you would be able +to have that operation and never dare to call yourself an invalid +again." +</p> +<p> +She half closed her eyes. The spell of summer was in the air, the +spell of life was stirring slowly in her frozen blood. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! Arnold," she murmured, "I do not think that you must talk like +that. It makes me feel so much like yielding. Somehow, the dreams +out here seem even more wonderful than the visions which come +floating up the river. There's more life here. Don't you feel it? +Something seems to creep into your heart, into your pulses, and tell +you what life is." +</p> +<p> +He made no answer. The world of the last few throbbing weeks seemed +far enough away with him, too. He picked a handful of clover and +thrust it into the bosom of her gown. Then he rose reluctantly to +his feet and held out his hands. +</p> +<p> +"I think," he said, "that the great gates of freedom must be +somewhere out here, but just now one is forced to remember that we +are slaves." +</p> +<p> +He drew her to her feet, placed the stick in her hand, and supported +her other arm. They walked for a step or two down the narrow path +which led <a name="Pg_183" id="Pg_183"></a>through the clover field to the lane below. Then, with a +little laugh, he caught her up in his arms. +</p> +<p> +"It will be quicker if I carry you, Ruth," he proposed. "The weeds +twine their way all the time around your stick." +</p> +<p> +She linked her arms around his neck; her cheek touched his for a +moment, and he was surprised to find it as hot as fire. He stepped +out bravely enough, but with every step it seemed to him that she +was growing heavier. Her hands were still tightly linked around his +neck, but her limbs were inert. She seemed to be falling away. He +held her tighter, his breath began to grow shorter. The perfume of +the clover, fragrant and delicate, grew stronger with every step +they took. Somehow he felt that that walk along the narrow path was +carving its way into his life. The fingers at the back of his neck +were cold, yet she, too, was breathing as though she had been +running. Her eyes were half closed. He looked once into her face, +bent over her until his lips nearly touched hers. He set his teeth +hard. Some instinct warned him of the dangers of the moment. Her +stick slipped and a lump arose in his throat. The moment had passed. +He kissed her softly upon the forehead. +</p> +<p> +"Dear Ruth!" he whispered. +</p> +<p> +She turned very pale and very soon afterward she insisted upon being +set down. They walked slowly to where the motor car was waiting at +the corner of the lane. Ruth began to talk nervously. +</p> +<p> +"It was charming of Mrs. Weatherley," she declared, "to lend you +this car. Tell me how it happened, Arnie?" +</p> +<p> +"I simply told her," he replied, "that I was going <a name="Pg_184" id="Pg_184"></a>to take a +friend, who needed a little fresh air, out into the country, and she +insisted upon sending this car instead of letting me hire a taxicab. +It was over the telephone and I couldn't refuse. Besides, Mr. +Weatherley was in the office, and he insisted upon it, too. They +only use this one in London, and I know that they are away somewhere +for the week-end." +</p> +<p> +"It has been so delightful," Ruth murmured. "Now I am going to lie +back among these beautiful cushions, and just watch and think." +</p> +<p> +The car glided on along the country lane, passing through leafy +hamlets, across a great breezy moorland, from the top of which they +could see the Thames winding its way into Oxfordshire, a sinuous +belt of silver. Then they sped down into the lower country, and +Arnold looked at the milestones in some surprise. +</p> +<p> +"We don't seem to be getting any nearer to London," he remarked. +</p> +<p> +Ruth only shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"It will come soon enough," she said, with a little shiver. "It will +pass, this, like everything else." +</p> +<p> +They had dropped to the level now, and suddenly, without warning, +the car swung through a low white gate up along an avenue of shrubs. +Arnold leaned forward. +</p> +<p> +"Where are you taking us?" he asked the driver. "There is some +mistake." +</p> +<p> +But there was no mistake. A turn of the wheel and the car was +slowing down before the front of a long, ivy-covered house, with a +lawn as smooth as velvet, and beyond, the soft murmur of the river. +Ruth clutched at his arm. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_185" id="Pg_185"></a>"Arnold!" she exclaimed. "What does this mean? Who lives here?" +</p> +<p> +"I have no idea," he answered, "unless—" +</p> +<p> +The windows in front of the house were all of them open and all of +them level with the drive. Through the nearest of them at that +moment stepped Fenella. She stood, for a moment, framed in the long +French window, hung with clematis,—a wonderful picture even for +Arnold, a revelation to Ruth,—in her cool muslin frock, open at the +throat, and held together by a brooch with a great green stone. She +wore no hat, and her wonderful hair seemed to have caught the +sunlight in its meshes. Her eyebrows were a little raised; her +expression was a little supercilious, faintly inquisitive. Already +she had looked past Arnold. Her eyes were fixed upon the girl by his +side. +</p> +<p> +"I began to think that you were lost," she said gayly. "Won't you +present me to your friend, Arnold?" +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0021"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_186" id="Pg_186"></a>CHAPTER XX +</h2> +<h3> + WOMAN'S WILES +</h3> +<p> +Arnold sprang to his feet. It was significant that, after his first +surprise, he spoke to Fenella with his head half turned towards his +companion, and an encouraging smile upon his lips. +</p> +<p> +"I had no idea that we were coming here," he said. "We should not +have thought of intruding. It was your chauffeur who would not even +allow us to ask a question." +</p> +<p> +"He obeyed my orders," Fenella replied. "I meant it for a little +surprise for you. I thought that it would be pleasant after your +drive to have you call here and rest for a short time. You must +present me to your friend." +</p> +<p> +Arnold murmured a word of introduction. Ruth moved a little in her +seat. She lifted herself with her left hand, leaning upon her stick. +Fenella's expression changed as though by magic. Her cool, +good-humored, but almost impertinent scrutiny suddenly vanished. She +moved to the side of the motor car and held out both her hands. +</p> +<p> +"I am so glad to see you here," she declared. "I hope that you will +like some tea after your long ride. <a name="Pg_187" id="Pg_187"></a>Perhaps you would prefer Mr. +Chetwode to help you out?" +</p> +<p> +"You are very kind," Ruth murmured. "I am sorry to be such a trouble +to everybody." +</p> +<p> +Arnold lifted her bodily out of the car and placed her on the edge +of the lawn. Fenella, a long parasol in her hand, was looking +pleasantly down at her guest. +</p> +<p> +"You will find it quite picturesque here, I think," she said. "It is +not really the river itself which comes to the end of the lawn, but +a little stream. It is so pretty, though, and so quiet. I thought +you would like to have tea down there. But, my poor child," she +exclaimed, "your hair is full of dust! You must come to my room. It +is on the ground floor here. Mr. Chetwode and I together can help +you so far." +</p> +<p> +They turned back toward the house and passed into the cool white +hall, the air of which was fragrant with the perfume of geraniums +and clematis. On the threshold of Fenella's room they were alone for +a moment. Fenella was summoning her maid. Ruth clung nervously to +Arnold. The room into which they looked was like a fairy chamber, +full of laces and perfume and fine linen. +</p> +<p> +"Arnold," she whispered, "you are sure that you did not know about +coming here?" +</p> +<p> +"I swear that I had no idea," he answered. "I would not have thought +of bringing you without telling you first." +</p> +<p> +Then Fenella returned and he was banished into the garden. At the +end of the lawn he found Mr. Weatherley, half asleep in a wicker +chair. The latter was apparently maintaining his good spirits. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_188" id="Pg_188"></a>"Glad to see you, Chetwode," he said. "Sort of plot of my wife's, I +think. Your young lady friend in the house?" +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Weatherley was kind enough to take her to her room," Arnold +replied. "We have had a most delightful ride, and I suppose it was +dusty, although we never noticed it." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley relit his cigar, which had gone out while he dozed. +</p> +<p> +"Thought we'd like a little country air ourselves for the week-end," +he remarked. "Will you smoke?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"Not just now, thank you, sir. Is that the river through the trees +there?" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley nodded. +</p> +<p> +"It's about a hundred yards down the stream," he replied. +"Bourne End is the nearest station. The cottage belongs to my +brother-in-law—Sabatini. I believe he's coming down later on. Any +news at the office yesterday morning?" +</p> +<p> +"There was nothing whatever requiring your attention, sir," Arnold +said. "There are a few letters which we have kept over for +to-morrow, but nothing of importance." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley pursed his lips and nodded. He asked a further +question or two concerning the business and then turned his head at +the sound of approaching footsteps. Ruth, looking very pale and +fragile, was leaning on the arm of a man-servant. Fenella walked on +the other side, her lace parasol drooping over her shoulder, her +head turned towards Ruth's, whose shyness she was doing her best to +melt. Mr. Weatherley rose hastily from his chair. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_189" id="Pg_189"></a>"God bless my soul!" he declared. "I didn't know—you didn't tell +me—" +</p> +<p> +"Miss Lalonde has been a great sufferer," Arnold said. "She has been +obliged to spend a good deal of her time lying down. For that +reason, to-day has been such a pleasure to her." +</p> +<p> +He hurried forward and took the butler's place. Together they +installed her in the most comfortable chair. Mr. Weatherley came +over and shook hands with her. +</p> +<p> +"Pretty place, this, Miss Lalonde, isn't it?" he remarked. "It's a +real nice change for business men like Mr. Chetwode and myself to +get down here for an hour or two's quiet." +</p> +<p> +"It is wonderfully beautiful," she answered. "It is so long since I +was out of London that perhaps I appreciate it more, even, than +either of you." +</p> +<p> +"What part of London do you live in?" Fenella asked her. +</p> +<p> +"My uncle and I have rooms in the same house as Mr. Chetwode," she +replied. "It is in Adam Street, off the Strand." +</p> +<p> +"Not much air there this hot weather, I don't suppose," Mr. +Weatherley remarked. +</p> +<p> +"We are on the top floor," she replied, "and it is the end house, +nearest to the river. Still, one feels the change here." +</p> +<p> +Tea was brought out by the butler, assisted by a trim parlor-maid. +Fenella presided. The note of domesticity which her action involved +seemed to Arnold, for some reason or other, quaintly incongruous. +Arnold waited upon them, and Fenella talked all the time to the +pale, silent girl at her side. Gradually Ruth overcame <a name="Pg_190" id="Pg_190"></a>her shyness; +it was impossible not to feel grateful to this beautiful, gracious +woman who tried so hard to make her feel at her ease. The time +slipped by pleasantly enough. Then Fenella rose to her feet. +</p> +<p> +"You must carry Miss Lalonde and her chair down to the very edge of +the lawn, where she can see the river," she told Arnold. +"Afterwards, I am going to take you to see my little rose garden. I +say mine, but it is really my brother's, only it was my idea when he +first took the place. Mr. Weatherley is going down to the +boat-builder's to see some motor-launches—horrible things they are, +but necessary if we stay here for the summer. Would you like some +books or magazines, Miss Lalonde, or do you think you would care to +come with us if we helped you very carefully?" +</p> +<p> +Ruth shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"I should like to sit quite close to the river," she said shyly, +"just where you said, and close my eyes. You don't know how +beautiful it is to get the roar of London out of one's ears, and be +able to hear nothing except these soft, summer sounds. It is like a +wonderful rest." +</p> +<p> +They arranged her comfortably. Mr. Weatherley returned to the house. +Fenella led the way through a little iron gate to a queer miniature +garden, a lawn brilliant with flower-beds, ending in a pergola of +roses. They passed underneath it and all around them the soft, +drooping blossoms filled the whole air with fragrance. At the end +was the river and a wooden seat. She motioned to him to sit by her +side. +</p> +<p> +"You are not angry with me?" she asked, a little timidly. +</p> +<p> +"Angry? Why should I be?" he answered. "The <a name="Pg_191" id="Pg_191"></a>afternoon has been +delightful. I can't tell you how grateful I feel." +</p> +<p> +"All the same," she said, "I think you know that I laid a plot to +bring you here because I was curious about this companion of yours, +for whose sake you refused my invitation. However, you see I am +penitent. Poor girl, how can one help feeling sorry for her! You +forgive me?" +</p> +<p> +"I forgive you," he answered. +</p> +<p> +She closed her parasol and leaned back in her corner of the seat. +She seemed to be studying his expression. +</p> +<p> +"There is something different about you this afternoon," she said. +"I miss a look from your face, something in your tone when you are +talking to me." +</p> +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"I am not conscious of any difference." +</p> +<p> +She laughed softly, but she seemed, even then, a little annoyed. +</p> +<p> +"You are not appreciating me," she declared. "Do you know that here, +in the wilderness, I have put on a Paquin muslin gown, white shoes +from Paris, white silk stockings—of which you can see at least two +inches," she added, glancing downwards. "I have risked my complexion +by wearing no hat, so that you can see my hair really at its best. I +looked in the glass before you came and even my vanity was +satisfied. Now I bring you away with me and find you a seat in a +bower of roses, and you look up into that elm tree as though you +were more anxious to find out where the thrush was singing than to +look at me." +</p> +<p> +He laughed. Through the raillery of her words he <a name="Pg_192" id="Pg_192"></a>could detect a +certain half-girlish earnestness which seemed to him delightful. +</p> +<p> +"Try and remember," he said, "how wonderful a day like this must +seem to any one like myself, who has spent day after day for many +months in Tooley Street. I have been sitting up on the hills, +listening to the wind in the trees. You can't imagine the difference +when you've been used to hearing nothing but the rumble of drays on +their way to Bermondsey." +</p> +<p> +She looked up at him. +</p> +<p> +"You know," she declared, "you are rather a mysterious person. I +cannot make up my mind that you are forced to live the life you do." +</p> +<p> +"You do not suppose," he replied, "that any sane person would choose +it? It is well enough now, thanks to you," he added, dropping his +voice a little. "A week ago, I was earning twenty-eight shillings a +week, checking invoices and copying letters—an errand boy's work; +pure, unadulterated drudgery, working in a wretched atmosphere, +without much hope of advancement or anything else." +</p> +<p> +"But even then you leave part of my question unanswered," she +insisted. "You were not born to this sort of thing?" +</p> +<p> +"I was not," he admitted; "but what does it matter?" +</p> +<p> +"You don't care to tell me your history?" she asked lazily. +"Sometimes I am curious about it." +</p> +<p> +"If I refuse," he answered, "it may give you a false impression. I +will tell you a little, if I may. A few sentences will be enough." +</p> +<p> +"I should really like to hear," she told him. +</p> +<p> +"Very well, then," he replied. "My father was a <a name="Pg_193" id="Pg_193"></a>clergyman, his +family was good. He and I lived almost alone. He had an income and +his stipend, but he was ambitious for me, and, by some means or +other, while I was away he was led to invest all his money with one +of these wretched bucket-shop companies. A telegram fetched me home +unexpectedly just as I was entering for my degree. I found my father +seriously ill and almost broken-hearted. I stayed with him, and in a +fortnight he died. There was just enough—barely enough—to pay what +he owed, and nothing left of his small fortune. His brother, my +uncle, came down to the funeral, and I regret to say that even then +I quarreled with him. He made use of language concerning my father +and his folly which I could not tolerate. My father was very simple +and very credulous and very honorable. He was just the sort of man +who becomes the prey of these wretched circular-mongering sharks. +What he did, he did for my sake. My uncle spoke of him with +contempt, spoke as though he were charged with the care of me +through my father's foolishness. I am afraid I made no allowance for +my uncle's peculiar temperament. The moment the funeral was over, I +turned him out of the house. I have no other relatives. I came to +London sooner than remain down in the country and be found a +position out of charity, which is, I suppose, what would have +happened. I took a room and looked for work. Naturally, I was glad +to get anything. I used to make about forty calls a day, till I +called at your husband's office in Tooley Street and got a +situation." +</p> +<p> +She nodded. +</p> +<p> +"I thought it was something like that," she remarked. <a name="Pg_194" id="Pg_194"></a>"Supposing I +had not happened to discover you, I wonder how long you would have +gone on?" +</p> +<p> +"Not much longer," he admitted. "To tell you the truth, I should +have enlisted but for that poor little girl whom I brought down with +me this afternoon." +</p> +<p> +His tone had softened. There was the slightest trace of a frown upon +her face as she looked along the riverside. +</p> +<p> +"But tell me," she asked, "what is your connection with her?" +</p> +<p> +"One of sympathy and friendliness only," he answered. "I never saw +her till I took the cheapest room I could find at the top of a gaunt +house near the Strand. The rest of the top floor is occupied by this +girl and her uncle. He is a socialist agitator, engaged on one of +the trades' union papers,—a nervous, unbalanced creature, on fire +with strange ideas,—the worst companion in the world for any one. +Sometimes he is away for days together. Sometimes, when he is at +home, he talks like a prophet, half mad, half inspired, as though he +were tugging at the pillars which support the world. The girl and he +are alone as I am alone, and there is something which brings people +very close together when they are in that state. I found her fallen +upon the landing one day and unable to reach her rooms, and I +carried her in and talked. Since then she looks for me every +evening, and we spend some part of the time together." +</p> +<p> +"Is she educated?" +</p> +<p> +"Excellently," he answered. "She was brought up in a convent after +her parents' death. She has read a marvellous collection of books, +and she is very quick-witted and appreciative." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_195" id="Pg_195"></a>"But you," she said, "are no longer a waif. These things are +passing for you. You cannot carry with you to the new world the +things which belong to the old." +</p> +<p> +"No prosperity should ever come to me," he declared, firmly, "in +which that child would not share to some extent. With the first two +hundred pounds I possess, if ever I do possess such a sum," he +added, with a little laugh, "I am going to send her to Vienna, to +the great hospital there." +</p> +<p> +She shrugged her shoulders. +</p> +<p> +"Two hundred pounds is not a large sum," she remarked. "Would you +like me to lend it to you?" +</p> +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"She would not hear of it," he said. "In her way, she is very +proud." +</p> +<p> +"It may come of its own accord," she whispered, softly. "You may +even have an opportunity of earning it." +</p> +<p> +"I am doing well enough just now," he remarked, "thanks to Mr. +Weatherley, but sums of money like that do not fall from the +clouds." +</p> +<p> +They were both silent. She seemed to be listening to the murmur of +the stream. His head was lifted to the elm tree, from somewhere +among whose leafy recesses a bird was singing. +</p> +<p> +"One never knows," she said softly. "You yourself have seen and +heard of strange things happening within the last few days." +</p> +<p> +He came back to earth with a little start. +</p> +<p> +"It is true," he confessed. +</p> +<p> +"There is life still," she continued, "throbbing sometimes in the +dull places, adventures which need only <a name="Pg_196" id="Pg_196"></a>the strong arm and the +man's courage. One might come to you, and adventures do not go +unrewarded." +</p> +<p> +"You talk like your brother," he remarked. +</p> +<p> +"Why not?" she replied. "Andrea and I have much in common. Do you +know that sometimes you provoke me a little?" +</p> +<p> +"I?" +</p> +<p> +She nodded. +</p> +<p> +"You have so much the air of a conqueror," she said. "You look as +though you had courage and determination. One could see that by your +mouth. And yet you are so much like the men of your nation, so +stolid, so certain to move along the narrow lines which convention +has drawn for you. Oh! if I could," she went on, leaning towards him +and looking intently into his face, "I would borrow the magic from +somewhere and mix a little in your wine, so that you should drink +and feel the desire for new things; so that the world of Tooley +Street should seem to you as though it belonged to a place inhabited +only by inferior beings; so that you should feel new blood in your +veins, hot blood crying for adventures, a new heart beating to a new +music. I would like, if I could, Arnold, to bring those things into +your life." +</p> +<p> +He turned and looked at her. Her face was within a few inches of +his. She was in earnest. The gleam in her eyes was half-provocative, +half a challenge. Arnold rose uneasily to his feet. +</p> +<p> +"I must go back," he said, a little thickly. "I forgot that Ruth is +so shy. She will be frightened alone." +</p> +<p> +He walked away down the pergola without even waiting for her. It was +very rude, but she only leaned back in her chair and laughed. In a +way, it was a triumph! +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0022"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_197" id="Pg_197"></a>CHAPTER XXI +</h2> +<h3> + ARNOLD SPEAKS OUT +</h3> +<p> +Ruth was still alone, and her welcome was almost pathetic. She +stretched out her arms—long, thin arms they seemed in the tight +black sleeves of her worn gown. She had discarded her carefully +mended gloves and her hands were bare. +</p> +<p> +"Arnold," she murmured, "how long you have been away!" +</p> +<p> +He threw himself on the grass by her side. +</p> +<p> +"Silly little woman!" he answered. "Don't tell me that you are not +enjoying it?" +</p> +<p> +"It is all wonderful," she whispered, "but can't you see that I am +out of place? When could we go, Arnie?" +</p> +<p> +"Are you so anxious to get away?" he asked, lazily. +</p> +<p> +"In a way, I should be content to stay here for ever," she answered. +"If you and I only could be here—why, Arnold, it is like Heaven! +Just close your eyes as I have been doing—like that. Now listen. +There isn't any undernote, none of that ceaseless, awful monotony of +sound that seems like the falling of weary men's feet upon the +eternal pavement. Listen—there is a bird singing somewhere in that +tree, and the water <a name="Pg_198" id="Pg_198"></a>goes lapping and lapping and lapping, as though +it had something pleasant to say but were too lazy to say it. And +every now and then, if you listen very intently, you can hear +laughing voices through the trees there from the river, laughter +from people who are happy, who are sailing on somewhere to find +their city of pleasure. And the perfumes, Arnold! I don't know what +the rose garden is like, but even from here I can smell it. It is +wonderful." +</p> +<p> +"Yet you ask me when we are going," he reminded her. +</p> +<p> +She shivered for a moment. +</p> +<p> +"It is not my world," she declared. "I am squeezed for a moment into +a little corner of it, but it is not mine and I have nothing to do +with it. She is so beautiful, that woman, and so gracious. She talks +to me out of pity, but when I first came she looked at me and there +was a challenge in her eyes. What did it mean, Arnold? Is she fond +of you? Is she going to be fond of you?" +</p> +<p> +He laughed, a little impatiently. +</p> +<p> +"My dear Ruth," he said, "she is my employer's wife. She has been +kind to me because I think that she is naturally kind, and because +lately she has not found among her friends many people of her own +age. Beyond that, there is nothing; there is never likely to be +anything. She mixes in a world where she can have all the admiration +she desires, and all the friends." +</p> +<p> +"Yet she looks at you," Ruth persisted, in a troubled tone, "as +though she had some claim; as though I, even poor I, were an +interloper for the tiny share I might have of your thoughts or +sympathy. I do not understand it." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_199" id="Pg_199"></a>He touched her hand lightly with his. +</p> +<p> +"You are too sensitive, dear," he said, "and a little too +imaginative. You must remember that she is half a foreigner. Her +moods change every moment, and her expression with them. She was +curious to see you. I have tried to explain to her what friends we +are. I am sure that her interest is a friendly one." +</p> +<p> +A motor horn immediately behind startled them both. They turned +their heads. A very handsome car, driven by a man in white livery, +had swept up the little drive and had come to a standstill in front +of the hall door. From the side nearest to them Count Sabatini +descended, and stood for a moment looking around him. The car moved +on towards the stables. Sabatini came slowly across the lawn. +</p> +<p> +"Who is it?" she whispered. "How handsome he is!" +</p> +<p> +"He is Mrs. Weatherley's brother—Count Sabatini," Arnold replied. +</p> +<p> +He came very slowly and, recognizing Arnold, waved his gray Homburg +hat with a graceful salute. He was wearing cool summer clothes of +light gray, with a black tie, boots with white linen gaiters, and a +flower in his coat. Even after his ride from London he looked +immaculate and spotless. He greeted Arnold kindly and without any +appearance of surprise. +</p> +<p> +"I heard that you were to be here," he said. "My sister told me of +her little plot. I hope that you approve of my bungalow?" +</p> +<p> +"I think that it is wonderful," Arnold answered. "I have never seen +anything of the river before—this part of it, at any rate." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini turned slightly towards Ruth, as though expecting<a name="Pg_200" id="Pg_200"></a> an +introduction. His lips were half parted; he had the air of one about +to make a remark. Then suddenly a curious change seemed to come over +his manner. His natural ease seemed to have entirely departed. He +stood stiff and rigid, and there was something forbidding in his +face as he looked down at the girl who had glanced timidly towards +him. A word—it was inaudible but it sounded like part of a woman's +name—escaped him. He had the appearance, during those few seconds, +of a man who looks through the present into a past world. It was all +over before even they could appreciate the situation. With a little +smile he had leaned down towards Ruth. +</p> +<p> +"You will do me the honor," he murmured, "of presenting me to your +companion?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold spoke a word or two of introduction. Sabatini pulled up a +chair and sat down at once by the girl's side. He had seen the stick +and seemed to have taken in the whole situation in a moment. +</p> +<p> +"Please be very good-natured," he begged, turning to Arnold, "and go +and find my sister. She will like to know that I am here. I am going +to talk to Miss Lalonde for a time, if she will let me. You don't +mind my being personal?" he went on, his voice soft with sympathy. +"I had a very dear cousin once who was unable to walk for many +years, and since then it has always interested me to find any one +suffering in the same way." +</p> +<p> +There was a simple directness about his speech which seemed to open +the subject so naturally that Ruth found herself talking without +effort of her accident, and the trouble it had brought. They drifted +so easily into conversation that Arnold left them almost at once. He +<a name="Pg_201" id="Pg_201"></a>had only a little distance to go before he found Fenella returning. +She was carrying a great handful of roses which she had just +gathered, and to his relief there was no expression of displeasure +in her face. Perhaps, though, he reflected with a sinking heart, she +had understood! +</p> +<p> +"Your brother has just arrived," he announced. "I think that he has +motored down from London. He wished me to let you know that he was +here." +</p> +<p> +"Where is he?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"He is on the lawn, talking to Miss Lalonde," Arnold replied. +</p> +<p> +"I will go to them presently," she said. "In the meantime, you are +to make yourself useful, if you please," she added, holding out the +roses. "Take these into the house, will you, and give them to one of +the women." +</p> +<p> +He took them from her. +</p> +<p> +"With pleasure! And then, if you will excuse us,—" +</p> +<p> +"I excuse no word which is spoken concerning your departure," she +declared. "To-night I give a little fête. We change our dinner into +what you call supper, and we will have the dining table moved out +under the trees there. You and your little friend must stop, and +afterwards my brother will take you back to London in his car, or I +will send you up in my own." +</p> +<p> +"You are too kind," Arnold answered. "I am afraid—" +</p> +<p> +"You are to be afraid of nothing," she interrupted, mockingly. "Is +that not just what I have been preaching to you? You have too many +fears for your height, my friend." +</p> +<p> +"We will put it another way, then. I was thinking <a name="Pg_202" id="Pg_202"></a>of Miss Lalonde. +She is not strong, and I think it is time we were leaving. If you +could send us so far as the railway station—" +</p> +<p> +"There are no trains that leave here," she asserted; "at least, I +never heard of them. I shall go and talk to her myself. We shall +see. No, on second thoughts, she is too interested. You and I will +walk to the house together. That is one thing," she continued, +"which I envy my brother, which makes me admire him so much. I think +he is the most charmingly sympathetic person I ever met. Illness of +any sort, or sickness, seems to make a woman of him. I never knew a +child or a woman whose interest or sympathy he could not win +quickly." +</p> +<p> +"It is a wonderful thing to say of any man, that," Arnold remarked. +</p> +<p> +"Wonderful?" she repeated. "Why, yes! So far as regards children, at +any rate. You know they say—one of the writers in my mother's +country said—that men are attracted by beauty, children by +goodness; and women by evil. It is of some such saying that you are +thinking. Now I shall leave these flowers in the hall and ring the +bell. Tell me, would you like me to show you my books?" +</p> +<p> +She laid her fingers upon the white door of her little drawing-room +and looked at him. +</p> +<p> +"If you do not mind," he replied, "I should like to hear what Ruth +says about going." +</p> +<p> +This time she frowned. She stood looking at him for a moment. +Arnold's face was very square and determined, but there were still +things there which she appreciated. +</p> +<p> +"You are very formal, to-day," she declared. "You <a name="Pg_203" id="Pg_203"></a>give too many of +your thoughts to your little friend. I do not think that you are +treating me kindly. I should like to sit with you in my room and to +talk to you of my books. Look, is it not pretty?" +</p> +<p> +She threw open the door. It was a tiny little apartment, in which +all the appointments and the walls were white, except for here and +there a little French gilded furniture of the best period. A great +bowl of scarlet geraniums stood in one corner. Though the windows +were open, the blinds were closely drawn, so that it was almost like +twilight. +</p> +<p> +"You won't come for five minutes?" she begged. +</p> +<p> +"Yes!" he answered, almost savagely. "Come in and shut the door. I +want to talk to you—not about your books. Yes, let us sit +down—where you will. That couch is big enough for both of us." +</p> +<p> +The sudden change in his manner was puzzling. The two had changed +places. The struggle was at an end, but it was scarcely as a victim +that Arnold leaned towards her. +</p> +<p> +"Give me your hands," he said. +</p> +<p> +"Arnold!" she whispered. +</p> +<p> +He took them both and drew her towards him. +</p> +<p> +"What is it you want?" he asked. "Not me—I know that. You are +beautiful, you know that I admire you, you know that a day like this +is like a day out of some wonderful fairy story for me. I am young +and foolish, I suppose, just as easily led away as most young men +are. Do you want to make me believe impossible things? You look at +me from the corners of your eyes and you laugh. Do you want to make +use of me in any way? You're not a flirt. You are a wife, and a good +wife. Do you know that men less <a name="Pg_204" id="Pg_204"></a>impressionable than I have been +made slaves for life by women less beautiful than you, without any +effort on their part, even? No, I won't be laughed at! This is +reality! What is it you want?" He leaned towards her. "Do you want +me to kiss you? Do you want me to hold you in my arms? I could do +it. I should like to do it. I will, if you tell me to. Only +afterwards—" +</p> +<p> +"Afterwards, what?" +</p> +<p> +"I shall do what I should have done if your husband hadn't taken me +into his office—I should enlist," he said. "I mayn't be +particularly ambitious, but I've no idea of hanging about, a +penniless adventurer, dancing at a woman's heels. Be honest with me. +At heart I do believe in you, Fenella. What is it you want?" +</p> +<p> +She leaned back on the couch and laughed. It was no longer the +subtle, provoking laugh of the woman of the world. She laughed +frankly and easily, with all the lack of restraint to which her +twenty-four years entitled her. +</p> +<p> +"My dear boy," she declared, "you have conquered. I give in. You +have seen through me. I am a fraud. I have been trying the old +tricks upon you because I am very much a woman, because I want you +to be my slave and to do the things I want you to do and live in the +world I want you to live in, and I was jealous of this companion for +whose sake you would not accept my invitation. Now I am sane again. +I see that you are not to be treated like other and more foolish +young men. My brother wants you. He wants you for a companion, he +wants you to help him in many ways. He has been used to rely upon me +in such cases. I have my orders to place you there." She pointed to +her feet. <a name="Pg_205" id="Pg_205"></a>"Alas, that I have failed!" she added, laughing once +more. "But, Arnold, we shall be friends?" +</p> +<p> +"Willingly," he answered, with an immense sense of relief. "Only +remember this. I may have wisdom enough to see the lure, but I may +not always have strength enough not to take it. I have spoken to you +in a moment of sanity, but—well, you are the most compellingly +beautiful person I ever saw, and compellingly beautiful women have +never made a habit of being kind to me, so please—" +</p> +<p> +"Don't do it any more," she interrupted. "Is that it?" +</p> +<p> +"As you like." +</p> +<p> +"Now I am going to put a piece of scarlet geranium in your +buttonhole, and I am going to take you out into the garden and hand +you over to my brother, and tell him that my task is done, that you +are my slave, and that he has only to speak and you will go out into +the world with a revolver in one hand and a sword in the other, and +wear any uniform or fight in any cause he chooses. Come!" +</p> +<p> +"You know," Arnold said, as they left the room, "I don't know any +man I admire so much as your brother, but I am almost as frightened +of him as I am of you." +</p> +<p> +"One who talks of fear so glibly," she answered, "seldom knows +anything about it." +</p> +<p> +"There are as many different sorts of fear as there are different +sorts of courage," he remarked. +</p> +<p> +"How we are improving!" she murmured. "We shall begin moralizing +soon. Presently I really think we shall compare notes about the +books we have read and the theatres we have been to, and before we +are <a name="Pg_206" id="Pg_206"></a>gray-headed I think one of us will allude to the weather. Now +isn't my brother a wonderful man? Look at that flush upon Miss +Lalonde's cheeks. Aren't you jealous?" +</p> +<p> +"Miserably!" +</p> +<p> +Sabatini rose to his feet and greeted his sister after his own +fashion, holding both her hands and kissing her on both cheeks. +</p> +<p> +"If only," he sighed, "our family had possessed morals equal to +their looks, what a race we should have been! But, my dear +sister,—a question of taste only,—you should leave Doucet and +Paquin at home when you come to my bungalow." +</p> +<p> +"You men never altogether understand," she replied. "Nothing +requires a little artificial aid so much as nature. It is the +piquancy of the contrast, you see. That is why the decorations of +Watteau are the most wonderful in the world. He knew how to combine +the purely, exquisitely artificial with the entirely simple. Now to +break the news to Miss Lalonde!" +</p> +<p> +Ruth turned a smiling face towards her. +</p> +<p> +"It is to say that our fête day is at an end," she said, looking for +her stick. +</p> +<p> +"Fête days do not end at six o'clock in the afternoon," Fenella +replied. "I want you to be very kind and give us all a great deal of +pleasure. We want to make a little party—you and Mr. Chetwode, my +brother, myself and Mr. Weatherley—and dine under that cedar tree, +just as we are. We are going to call it supper. Then, afterwards, +you will have a ride back to London in the cool air. Either my +brother will take you, or we will send a car from here." +</p> +<p> +"It is a charming idea," Sabatini said. "Miss Lalonde, you will not +be unkind?" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_207" id="Pg_207"></a>She hesitated only for a moment. They saw her glance at her frock, +the little feminine struggle, and the woman's conquest. +</p> +<p> +"If you really mean it," she said, "why, of course, I should love +it. It is no good my pretending that if I had known I should have +been better prepared," she continued, "because it really wouldn't +have made any difference. If you don't mind—" +</p> +<p> +"Then it is settled!" Sabatini exclaimed. "My young friend Arnold is +now going to take me out upon the river. I trust myself without a +tremor to those shoulders." +</p> +<p> +Arnold rose to his feet with alacrity. +</p> +<p> +"You get into the boat-house down that path," Sabatini continued. +"There is a comfortable punt in which I think I could rest +delightfully, or, if you prefer to scull, I should be less +comfortable, but resigned." +</p> +<p> +"It shall be the punt," Arnold decided, with a glance at the river. +"Won't any one else come with us?" +</p> +<p> +Fenella shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"I am going to talk to Miss Lalonde," she said. "After we have had +an opportunity of witnessing your skill, Mr. Chetwode, we may trust +ourselves another time. Au revoir!" +</p> +<p> +They watched the punt glide down the stream, a moment or two later, +Sabatini stretched between the red cushions with a cigarette in his +mouth, Arnold handling his pole like a skilled waterman. +</p> +<p> +"You like my brother?" Fenella asked. +</p> +<p> +The girl looked at her gratefully. +</p> +<p> +"I think that he is the most charming person I ever knew in my +life," she declared. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0023"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_208" id="Pg_208"></a>CHAPTER XXII +</h2> +<h3> + THE REFUGEE'S RETURN +</h3> +<p> +Sabatini's attitude of indolence lasted only until they had turned +from the waterway into the main river. Then he sat up and pointed a +little way down the stream. +</p> +<p> +"Can you cross over somewhere there?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +Arnold nodded and punted across towards the opposite bank. +</p> +<p> +"Get in among the rushes," Sabatini directed. "Now listen to me." +</p> +<p> +Arnold came and sat down. +</p> +<p> +"You don't mean to tire me," he remarked. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini smiled. +</p> +<p> +"Do you seriously think that I asked you to bring me on the river +for the pleasure of watching your prowess with that pole, my +friend?" he asked. "Not at all. I am going to ask you to do me a +service." +</p> +<p> +Arnold was suddenly conscious that Sabatini, for the first time +since he had known him, was in earnest. The lines of his +marble-white face seemed to have grown tenser and firmer, his manner +was the manner of a man who meets a crisis. +</p> +<p> +"Turn your head and look inland," he said. "You follow the lane +there?" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_209" id="Pg_209"></a>Arnold nodded. +</p> +<p> +"Quite well," he admitted. +</p> +<p> +"At the corner," Sabatini continued, "just out of sight behind that +tall hedge, is my motor car. I want you to land and make your way +there. My chauffeur has his instructions. He will take you to a +village some eight miles up the river, a village called Heslop Wood. +There is a boat-builder's yard at the end of the main street. You +will hire a boat and row up the river. About three hundred yards up, +on the left hand side, is an old, dismantled-looking house-boat. I +want you to board it and search it thoroughly." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini paused, and Arnold looked at him, perplexed. +</p> +<p> +"Search it!" he exclaimed. "But for whom? For what?" +</p> +<p> +"It is my belief," Sabatini went on, "that Starling is hiding there. +If he is, I want you to bring him to me by any means which occur to +you. I had sooner he were dead, but that is too much to ask of you. +I want him brought in the motor car to that point in the lane there. +Then, if you succeed, you will bring him down here and your mission +is ended. Will you undertake it?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold never hesitated for a moment. He was only too thankful to be +able to reply in the affirmative. He put on his coat and propelled +the punt a little further into the rushes. +</p> +<p> +"I'll do my best," he asserted. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini said never a word, but his silence seemed somehow eloquent. +Arnold sprang onto the bank and turned once around. +</p> +<p> +"If he is there, I'll bring him," he promised. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_210" id="Pg_210"></a>Sabatini waved his hand and Arnold sped across the meadow. He found +the motor car waiting behind the hedge, and he had scarcely stepped +in before they were off. They swung at a great speed along the +narrow lanes, through two villages, and finally came to a standstill +at the end of a long, narrow street. Arnold alighted and found the +boat-builder's yard, with rows of boats for hire, a short distance +along the front. He chose one and paddled off, glancing at his watch +as he did so. It was barely a quarter of an hour since he had left +Sabatini. +</p> +<p> +The river at this spot was broad, but it narrowed suddenly on +rounding a bend about a hundred yards away. The house-boat was in +sight now, moored close to a tiny island. Arnold pulled up alongside +and paused to reconnoiter. To all appearance, it was a derelict. +There were no awnings, no carpets, no baskets of flowers. The +outside was grievously in need of paint. It had an entirely +uninhabited and desolate appearance. Arnold beached his boat upon +the little island and swung himself up onto the deck. There was +still no sign of any human occupancy. He descended into the saloon. +The furniture there was mildewed and musty. Rain had come in through +an open window, and the appearance of the little apartment was +depressing in the extreme. Stooping low, he next examined the four +sleeping apartments. There was no bedding in any one of them, nor +any sign of their having been recently occupied. He passed on into +the kitchen, with the same result. It seemed as though his journey +had been in vain. He made his way back again on deck, and descended +the stairs leading to the fore part of the boat. Here were a couple +of servant's rooms, and, though <a name="Pg_211" id="Pg_211"></a>there was no bedding, one of the +bunks gave him the idea that some one had been lying there recently. +He looked around him and sniffed—there was a distinct smell of +tobacco smoke. He stepped lightly back into the passageway. There +was nothing to be heard, and no material indication of any one's +presence, yet he had the uncomfortable feeling that some one was +watching him—some one only a few feet away. He waited for almost a +minute. Nothing happened, yet his sense of apprehension grew deeper. +For the first time, he associated the idea of danger with his +enterprise. +</p> +<p> +"Is any one about here?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +There was no reply. He tried another door, which led into a sort of +pantry, without result. The last one was fastened on the inside. +</p> +<p> +"Is Mr. Starling in there?" Arnold demanded. +</p> +<p> +There was still no reply, yet it was certain now that the end of his +search was at hand. Distinctly he could hear the sound of a man +breathing. +</p> +<p> +"Will you tell me if you are there, Mr. Starling?" Arnold again +demanded. "I have a message for you." +</p> +<p> +Starling, if indeed he were there, seemed now to be even holding his +breath. Arnold took one step back and charged the door. It went +crashing in, and almost at once there was a loud report. The +closet—it was little more—was filled with smoke, and Arnold heard +distinctly the hiss of a bullet buried in the woodwork over his +shoulder. He caught the revolver from the shaking fingers of the man +who was crouching upon the ground, and slipped it into his pocket. +With his other hand, he held his prisoner powerless. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_212" id="Pg_212"></a>"What the devil do you mean by that?" he cried, fiercely. +</p> +<p> +Starling—for it was Starling—seemed to have no words. Arnold +dragged him out into the light and for a moment found it hard to +recognize the man. He had lost over a stone in weight. His cheeks +were hollow, and his eyes had the hunted look in them of some wild +animal. +</p> +<p> +"What do you want with me?" he muttered. "Can't you see I am hiding +here? What business is it of yours to interfere?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold looked at him from head to foot. The man was shaking all +over; the coward's fear was upon him. +</p> +<p> +"What on earth are you in this state for?" he exclaimed. "Whom are +you hiding from? You have been set free. Is it the Rosario business +still? You have been set free once." +</p> +<p> +Starling moistened his lips rapidly. +</p> +<p> +"They set me free," he muttered, "because one of their witnesses +failed. They had no case; they wouldn't bring me up. But I am still +under surveillance. The sergeant as good as told me that they'd have +me before long." +</p> +<p> +"Well, at present, I've got you," Arnold said coolly. "Have you any +luggage?" +</p> +<p> +"No! Why?" +</p> +<p> +"Because you are coming along with me." +</p> +<p> +"Where?" +</p> +<p> +"I am taking you to Count Sabatini," Arnold informed him. "He is at +his villa about ten miles down the river." +</p> +<p> +Starling flopped upon his knees. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_213" id="Pg_213"></a>"For the love of God, don't take me to him!" he begged. +</p> +<p> +"Why not?" +</p> +<p> +"He is a devil, that man," Starling whispered, confidentially. "He +would blow out my brains or yours or his own, without a second's +hesitation, if it suited him. He hasn't any nerves nor any fear nor +any pity. He will laugh at me—he won't understand, he is so +reckless!" +</p> +<p> +"Well, we're going to him, anyhow," Arnold said. "I don't see how +you can be any worse off than hiding in this beastly place. Upstairs +and into the boat, please." +</p> +<p> +Starling struggled weakly to get away but he was like a child in +Arnold's hands. +</p> +<p> +"You had much better come quietly," the latter advised. "You'll have +to come, anyway, and if you're really afraid of being arrested +again, I should think Count Sabatini would be the best man to aid +your escape." +</p> +<p> +"But he won't let me escape," Starling protested. "He doesn't +understand danger. I am not made like him. My nerve has gone. I came +into this too late in life." +</p> +<p> +"Jump!" Arnold ordered, linking his arm into his companion's. +</p> +<p> +They landed, somehow, upon the island. Arnold pointed to the boat. +</p> +<p> +"Please be sensible," he begged, "now, at any rate. There may be +people passing at any moment." +</p> +<p> +"I was safe in there," Starling mumbled. "Why the devil couldn't you +have left me alone?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold bent over his oars. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_214" id="Pg_214"></a>"Safe!" he repeated, contemptuously. "You were doing the one thing +which a guilty man would do. People would have known before long +that you were there, obviously hiding. I think that Count Sabatini +will propose something very much better." +</p> +<p> +"Perhaps so," Starling muttered. "Perhaps he will help me to get +away." +</p> +<p> +They reached the village and Arnold paid for the hire of his boat. +Then he hurried Starling into the car, and a moment or two later +they were off. +</p> +<p> +"Is it far away?" Starling asked, nervously. +</p> +<p> +"Ten minutes' ride. Sabatini has arranged it all very well. We get +out, cross a meadow, and find him waiting for us in the punt." +</p> +<p> +"You won't leave me alone with him on the river?" Starling begged. +</p> +<p> +"No, I shall be there," Arnold promised. +</p> +<p> +"There's nothing would suit him so well," Starling continued, "as to +see me down at the bottom of the Thames, with a stone around my +neck. I tell you I'm frightened of him. If I can get out of this +mess," he went on, "I'm off back to New York. Any job there is +better than this. What are we stopping for? Say, what's wrong now?" +</p> +<p> +"It's all right," Arnold answered. "Step out. We cross this meadow +on foot. When we reach the other end, we shall find Sabatini. Come +along." +</p> +<p> +They turned toward the river, Starling muttering, now and then, to +himself. In a few minutes they came in sight of the punt. Sabatini +was still there, with his head reclining among the cushions. He +looked up and waved his hand. +</p> +<p> +"A record, my young friend!" he exclaimed. "I <a name="Pg_215" id="Pg_215"></a>congratulate you, +indeed. You have been gone exactly fifty-five minutes, and I gave +you an hour and a half at the least. Our friend Starling was glad to +see you, I hope?" +</p> +<p> +"He showed his pleasure," Arnold remarked dryly, "in a most original +manner. However, here he is. Shall I take you across now?" +</p> +<p> +"If you please," Sabatini agreed. +</p> +<p> +He sat up and looked at Starling. The latter hung his head and shook +like a guilty schoolboy. +</p> +<p> +"It was so foolish of you," Sabatini murmured, "but we'll talk of +that presently. They were civil to you at the police court, eh?" +</p> +<p> +"I was never charged," Starling replied. "They couldn't get their +evidence together." +</p> +<p> +"Still, they asked you questions, no doubt?" Sabatini continued. +</p> +<p> +"I told them nothing," Starling replied. "On my soul and honor, I +told them nothing!" +</p> +<p> +"It was very wise of you," Sabatini said. "It might have led to +disappointments—to trouble of many sorts. So you told them nothing, +eh? That is excellent. After we have landed, I must hand you over to +my valet. Then we will have a little talk." +</p> +<p> +They were in the backwater now, drifting on toward the lawn. +Starling shrank back at the sight of the two women. +</p> +<p> +"I can't face it," he muttered. "I tell you I have lost my nerve." +</p> +<p> +"You have nothing to fear," Sabatini said quietly. "There is no one +here likely to do you or wish you any harm." +</p> +<p> +Fenella came down to the steps to meet them. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_216" id="Pg_216"></a>"So our prodigal has returned," she remarked, smiling at Starling. +</p> +<p> +"We have rescued Mr. Starling from a solitary picnic upon his +house-boat," Sabatini explained, suavely. "We cannot have our +friends cultivating misanthropy." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley, who had returned from the boat-builder's, half rose +from his chair and sat down again, frowning. He watched the two men +cross the lawn towards the house. Then he turned to Ruth and shook +his head. +</p> +<p> +"I have a great regard for Count Sabatini," he declared, "a great +regard, but there are some of his friends—very many of them, in +fact—whose presence here I could dispense with. That man is one of +them. Do you know where he was a few nights ago, Miss Lalonde?" +</p> +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"In prison," Mr. Weatherley said, impressively; "arrested on a +serious charge." +</p> +<p> +Her eyes asked him a question. He stooped towards her and lowered +his voice. +</p> +<p> +"Murder," he whispered; "the murder of Mr. Rosario!" +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0024"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_217" id="Pg_217"></a>CHAPTER XXIII +</h2> +<h3> + TROUBLE BREWING +</h3> +<p> +Through the winding lanes, between the tall hedges, honeysuckle +wreathed and starred with wild roses, out onto the broad main road, +Sabatini's great car sped noiselessly on its way back to London. +They seemed to pass in a few moments from the cool, perfumed air of +the country into the hot, dry atmosphere of the London suburbs. +Almost before they realized that they were on their homeward way, +the fiery glow of the city was staining the clouds above their +heads. Arnold leaned a little forward, watching, as the car raced on +to its goal. This ride through the darkness seemed to supply the +last thrill of excitement to their wonderful day. He glanced towards +Ruth, who lay back among the cushions, as though sleeping, by his +side. +</p> +<p> +"You are tired?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes," she answered simply. +</p> +<p> +They were in the region now of electric cars—wonderful vehicles +ablaze with light, flashing towards them every few minutes, laden +with Sunday evening pleasure seekers. Their automobile, however, +perfectly controlled by Sabatini's Italian chauffeur, swung from one +side of the road to the other and held on its way with scarcely +abated speed. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_218" id="Pg_218"></a>"You have enjoyed the day?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +She opened her eyes and looked at him. He saw the shadows, and +wondered. +</p> +<p> +"Of course," she whispered. +</p> +<p> +His momentary wonder at her reticence passed. Again he was leaning a +little forward, looking up the broad thoroughfare with its double +row of lights, its interminable rows of houses growing in importance +as they rushed on. +</p> +<p> +"It is we ourselves who pass now along the lighted way!" he +exclaimed, holding her arm for, a moment. "It is an enchanted +journey, ours, Ruth." +</p> +<p> +She laughed bitterly. +</p> +<p> +"An enchanted journey which leads to two very dreary attic rooms on +the sixth floor of a poverty-stricken house," she reminded him. "It +leads back to the smoke-stained city, to the four walls within which +one dreams empty dreams." +</p> +<p> +"It isn't so bad as that," he protested. +</p> +<p> +Her lips trembled for a moment; she half closed her eyes. An impulse +of pain passed like a spasm across her tired features. +</p> +<p> +"It is different for you," she murmured. "Every day you escape. For +me there is no escape." +</p> +<p> +He felt a momentary twinge of selfishness. Yet, after all, the great +truths were incontrovertible. He could lighten her lot but little. +There was very little of himself that he could give her—of his +youth, his strength, his vigorous hold upon life. Through all the +tangle of his expanding interests in existence, the medley of +strange happenings in which he found himself involved, one thing +alone was clear. He was passing on into a life making larger demands +upon, him, a life in which their <a name="Pg_219" id="Pg_219"></a>companionship must naturally +become a slighter thing. Nevertheless, he spoke to her reassuringly. +</p> +<p> +"You cannot believe, Ruth," he said, "that I shall ever forget? We +have been through too much together, too many dark days." +</p> +<p> +She sighed. +</p> +<p> +"There wasn't much for either of us to look forward to, was there, +when we first looked down on the river together and you began to +tell me fairy stories." +</p> +<p> +"They kept our courage alive," he declared. "I am not sure that they +are not coming true." +</p> +<p> +She half closed her eyes. +</p> +<p> +"For you, Arnold," she murmured. "Not all the fancies that were ever +spun in the brain of any living person could alter life very much +for me." +</p> +<p> +He took her hand and held it tightly. Yet it was hard to know what +to say to her. It was the inevitable tragedy, this, of their sexes +and her infirmity. He realized in those few minutes something of how +she was feeling,—the one who is left upon the lonely island while +the other is borne homeward into the sunshine and tumult of life. +There was little, indeed, which he could say. It was not the hour, +this, for protestation. +</p> +<p> +They passed along Piccadilly, across Leicester Square, and into the +Strand. The wayfarers in the streets, of whom there were still +plenty, seemed to be lingering about in sheer joy of the cooler +night after the unexpected heat of the day, the women in light +clothes, the men with their coats thrown open and carrying their +hats. They passed down the Strand and into Adam Street, coming at +last to a standstill before the tall, gloomy house at the corner of +the Terrace. Arnold stepped out onto the pavement and helped his +companion<a name="Pg_220" id="Pg_220"></a> to alight. The chauffeur lifted his hat and the car +glided away. As they stood there, for a moment, upon the pavement, +and Arnold pushed open the heavy, shabby door, it seemed, indeed, as +though the whole day might have been a dream. +</p> +<p> +Ruth moved wearily along the broken, tesselated pavement, and paused +for a moment before the first flight of stairs. Arnold, taking her +stick from her, caught her up in his arms. Her fingers closed around +his neck and she gave a little sigh of relief. +</p> +<p> +"Will you really carry me up all the way, Arnie?" she whispered. "I +am so tired to-night. You are sure that you can manage it?" +</p> +<p> +He laughed gayly. +</p> +<p> +"I have done it many times before," he reminded her. "To-night I +feel as strong as a dozen men." +</p> +<p> +One by one they climbed the flight of stone steps. Curiously enough, +notwithstanding the strength of which he had justly boasted, as they +neared the top of the house he felt his breath coming short and his +heart beating faster, as though some unusual strain were upon him. +She had tightened her grasp upon his neck. She seemed, somehow, to +have come closer to him, yet to hang like a dead weight in his arms. +Her cheek was touching his. Once, toward the end, he looked into her +face, and the fire of her eyes startled him. +</p> +<p> +"You are not really tired," he muttered. +</p> +<p> +"I am resting like this," she whispered. +</p> +<p> +He stood at last upon the top landing. He set her down with a little +thrill, assailed by a medley of sensations, the significance of +which confused him. She seemed still to cling to him, and she +pointed to his door. +</p> +<p> +"For five minutes," she begged, "let us sit in our <a name="Pg_221" id="Pg_221"></a>chairs and look +down at the river. To-night it is too hot to sleep." +</p> +<p> +Even while he opened his door, he hesitated. +</p> +<p> +"What about Isaac?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +She shivered and looked over her shoulder. They were in his room now +and she closed the door. On the threshold she stood quite still for +a moment, as though listening. There was something in her face which +alarmed him. +</p> +<p> +"Do you know, I believe that I am afraid to go back," she said. +"Isaac has been stranger than ever these last few days. All the time +he is locked up in his room, and he shows himself only at night." +</p> +<p> +Arnold dragged her chair up to the window and installed her +comfortably. He himself was thinking of Isaac's face under the +gaslight, as he had seen him stepping away from the taxicab. +</p> +<p> +"Isaac was always queer," he reminded her, reassuringly. +</p> +<p> +She drew him down to her side. +</p> +<p> +"There has been a difference these last few days," she whispered. "I +am afraid—I am terribly afraid that he has done something really +wrong." +</p> +<p> +Arnold felt a little shiver of fear himself. +</p> +<p> +"You must remember," he said quietly, "that after all Isaac is, in a +measure, outside your life. No one can influence him for either good +or evil. He is not like other men. He must go his own way, and I, +too, am afraid that it may be a troublous one. He chose it for +himself and neither you nor I can help. I wouldn't think about him +at all, dear, if you can avoid it. And for yourself, remember always +that you have another protector." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_222" id="Pg_222"></a>The faintest of smiles parted her lips. In the moonlight, which was +already stealing into the room through the bare, uncurtained window, +her face seemed like a piece of beautiful marble statuary, ghostly, +yet in a single moment exquisitely human. +</p> +<p> +"I have no claim upon you, Arnold," she reminded him, "and I think +that soon you will pass out of my life. It is only natural. You must +go on, I must remain. And that is the end of it," she added, with a +little quiver of the lips. "Now let us finish talking about +ourselves. I want to talk about your new friends." +</p> +<p> +"Tell me what you really think of them?" he begged. "Count Sabatini +has been so kind to me that if I try to think about him at all I am +already prejudiced." +</p> +<p> +"I think," she replied slowly, "that Count Sabatini is the strangest +man whom I ever met. Do you remember when he stood and looked down +upon us? I felt—but it was so foolish!" +</p> +<p> +"You felt what?" he persisted. +</p> +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"I cannot tell. As though we were not strangers at all. I suppose it +is what they call mesmerism. He had that soft, delightful way of +speaking, and gentle mannerism. There was nothing abrupt or new +about him. He seemed, somehow, to become part of the life of any one +in whom he chose to interest himself in the slightest. And he talked +so delightfully, Arnold. I cannot tell you how kind he was to me." +</p> +<p> +Arnold laughed. +</p> +<p> +"It's a clear case of hero worship," he declared. "You're going to +be as bad as I have been." +</p> +<p> +"And yet," she said slowly, "it is his sister of whom <a name="Pg_223" id="Pg_223"></a>I think all +the time. Fenella she calls herself, doesn't she?" +</p> +<p> +"You like her, too?" Arnold asked eagerly. +</p> +<p> +"I hate her," was the low, fierce reply. +</p> +<p> +Arnold drew a little away. +</p> +<p> +"You can't mean it!" he exclaimed. "You can't really mean that you +don't like her!" +</p> +<p> +Ruth clutched at his arm as though jealous of his instinctive +disappointment. +</p> +<p> +"I know that it's brutally ungracious," she declared. "It's a sort +of madness, even. But I hate her because she is the most beautiful +thing I have ever seen here in life. I hate her for that, and I hate +her for her strength. Did you see her come across the lawn to us +to-night, Arnold?" +</p> +<p> +He nodded enthusiastically. +</p> +<p> +"You mean in that smoke-colored muslin dress?" +</p> +<p> +"She has no right to wear clothes like that!" Ruth cried. "She does +it so that men may see how beautiful she is. I—well, I hate her!" +</p> +<p> +There was a silence. Then Ruth rose slowly to her feet. Her tone was +suddenly altered, her eyes pleaded with his. +</p> +<p> +"Don't take any notice of me to-night, Arnold," she implored. "It +has been such a wonderful day, and I am not used to so much +excitement. I am afraid that I am a little hysterical. Do be kind +and help me across to my room." +</p> +<p> +"Is there any hurry?" he asked. "It hasn't struck twelve yet." +</p> +<p> +"I want to go, please," she begged. "I shall say foolish things if I +stay here much longer, and I don't want to. Let me go." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_224" id="Pg_224"></a>He obeyed her without further question. Once more he supported her +with his arms, but she kept her face turned away. When he had +reached her door he would have left her, but she still clutched his +arm. +</p> +<p> +"I am foolish," she whispered, "foolish and wicked to-night. And +besides, I am afraid. It is all because I am overtired. Come in with +me for one moment, please, and let me be sure that Isaac is all +right. Feel how I am trembling." +</p> +<p> +"Of course I will come," he answered. "Isaac can't be angry with me +to-night, anyhow, for my clothes are old and dusty enough." +</p> +<p> +He opened the door and they passed across the threshold. Then they +both stopped short and Ruth gave a little start. The room was lit +with several candles. There was no sign of Isaac, but a middle-aged +man, with black beard and moustache, had risen to his feet at their +entrance. He glanced at Ruth with keen interest, at Arnold with a +momentary curiosity. +</p> +<p> +"What are you doing here?" Ruth demanded. "What right have you in +this room?" +</p> +<p> +The man did not answer her question. +</p> +<p> +"I shall be glad," he said, "if you will come in and shut the door. +If you are Miss Ruth Lalonde, I have a few questions to ask you." +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0025"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_225" id="Pg_225"></a>CHAPTER XXIV +</h2> +<h3> + ISAAC AT BAY +</h3> +<p> +Arnold had a swift premonition of what had happened. He led Ruth to +a chair and stood by her side. Ruth gazed around the room in +bewilderment. The curtained screen which divided it had been torn +down, and the door of the inner apartment, which Isaac kept so +zealously locked, stood open. Not only that, but the figure of a +second man was dimly seen moving about inside, and, from the light +shining out, it was obviously in some way illuminated. +</p> +<p> +"I don't understand who you are or what you are doing here," Ruth +declared, trembling in every limb. +</p> +<p> +"My name is Inspector Grant," the man replied. "My business is with +Isaac Lalonde, who I understand is your uncle." +</p> +<p> +"What do you want with him?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +The inspector made no direct reply. +</p> +<p> +"There are a few questions," he said, "which it is my duty to put to +you." +</p> +<p> +"Questions?" she repeated. +</p> +<p> +"Do you know where your uncle is?" +</p> +<p> +Ruth shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"I left him here this morning," she replied. "He <a name="Pg_226" id="Pg_226"></a>has not been out +for several days. I expected to find him here when I returned." +</p> +<p> +"We have been here since four o'clock," the man said. "There was no +one here when we arrived, nor has any one been since. Your uncle has +no regular hours, I suppose?" +</p> +<p> +"He is very uncertain," Ruth answered. "He does newspaper reporting, +and he sometimes has to work late." +</p> +<p> +"Can you tell me what newspaper he is engaged upon?" +</p> +<p> +"The <i>Signal</i>, for one," Ruth replied. +</p> +<p> +Inspector Grant was silent for a moment. +</p> +<p> +"The <i>Signal</i> newspaper offices were seized by the police some days +ago," he remarked. "Do you know of any other journal on which your +uncle worked?" +</p> +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"He tells me very little of his affairs," she faltered. +</p> +<p> +The inspector pointed backwards into the further corner of the +apartment. +</p> +<p> +"Do you often go into his room there?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"I have not been for months," Ruth assured him. "My uncle keeps it +locked up. He told me that there had been some trouble at the office +and he was printing something there." +</p> +<p> +The inspector rose slowly to his feet. On the table by his side was +a pile of articles covered over with a tablecloth. Very deliberately +he removed the latter and looked keenly at Ruth. She shrank back +with a little scream. There were half a dozen murderous-looking +pistols there, a Mannerlicher rifle, and a quantity of ammunition. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_227" id="Pg_227"></a>"What does your uncle need with these?" the inspector asked dryly. +</p> +<p> +"How can I tell?" Ruth replied. "I have never seen one of them +before. I never knew that they were in the place." +</p> +<p> +"Nor I," Arnold echoed. "I have been a constant visitor here, too, +and I have never seen firearms of any sort before." +</p> +<p> +The inspector turned towards him. +</p> +<p> +"Are you a friend of Isaac Lalonde?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"I am not," Arnold answered. "I am a friend of his niece here, Miss +Ruth Lalonde. I know very little of Isaac, although I see him here +sometimes." +</p> +<p> +"I should like to know your name, if you have no objection," the +inspector remarked. +</p> +<p> +"My name is Chetwode," Arnold told him. "I occupy a room on the +other side of the passage." +</p> +<p> +"When did you last see Isaac Lalonde?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold did not hesitate for a moment. What he had seen at Hampstead +belonged to himself. He deliberately wiped out the memory of it from +his thoughts. +</p> +<p> +"On Thursday evening here." +</p> +<p> +The inspector made a note in his pocket-book. Then he turned again +to Ruth. +</p> +<p> +"You can give me no explanation, then, as to your uncle's absence +to-night?" +</p> +<p> +"None at all. I can only say what I told you before—that I expected +to find him here on my return." +</p> +<p> +"Was he here when you left this morning?" +</p> +<p> +"I believe so," Ruth assured him. "He very seldom comes out of his +room until the middle of the day, and he does not like my going to +him there. As we started very early, I did not disturb him." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_228" id="Pg_228"></a>"Have you any objection," the inspector asked, "to telling me where +you have spent the whole of to-day?" +</p> +<p> +"Not the slightest," Arnold interposed. "We have been to Bourne End, +and to a village in the neighborhood." +</p> +<p> +The inspector nodded thoughtfully. Ruth leaned a little forward in +her chair. Her voice trembled with anxiety. +</p> +<p> +"Please tell me," she begged, "what is the charge against my uncle?" +</p> +<p> +The inspector glanced over his shoulder at that inner room, from +which fitful gleams of light still came. He looked down at the heap +of pistols and ammunition by his side. +</p> +<p> +"The charge," he said slowly, "is of a somewhat serious nature." +</p> +<p> +Ruth was twisting up her glove in her hand. +</p> +<p> +"I do not believe," she declared, "that Isaac has ever done anything +really wrong. He is a terrible socialist, and he is always railing +at the rich, but I do not believe that he would hurt any one." +</p> +<p> +The inspector looked grimly at the little pile of firearms. +</p> +<p> +"A pretty sort of armory, this," he remarked, "for a peace-loving +man. What do you suppose he keeps them here for, in his room? What +do you suppose—" +</p> +<p> +They all three heard it at the same time. The inspector broke off in +the middle of his sentence. Ruth, shrinking in her chair, turned her +head fearfully towards the door, which still stood half open. Arnold +was looking breathlessly in the same direction. Faintly, but very +distinctly, they heard the patter of footsteps climbing the stone +stairs. It sounded as though a man <a name="Pg_229" id="Pg_229"></a>were walking upon tiptoe, yet +dragging his feet wearily. The inspector held up his hand, and his +subordinate, who had been searching the inner room, came stealthily +out. Ruth, obeying her first impulse, opened her lips to shriek. The +inspector leaned forward and his hand suddenly closed over her +mouth. He looked towards Arnold, who was suffering from a moment's +indecision. +</p> +<p> +"If you utter a sound," he whispered, "you will be answerable to the +law." +</p> +<p> +Nobody spoke or moved. It was an odd little tableau, grouped +together in the dimly lit room. The footsteps had reached the last +flight of stairs now. They came slowly across the landing, then +paused, as though the person who approached could see the light +shining through the partly open door. They heard a voice, a voice +almost unrecognizable, a voice hoarse and tremulous with fear, the +voice of a hunted man. +</p> +<p> +"Are you there, Ruth?" +</p> +<p> +Ruth struggled to reply, but ineffectually. Slowly, and as though +with some foreboding of danger, the footsteps came nearer and +nearer. An unseen hand cautiously pushed the door open. Isaac stood +upon the threshold, peering anxiously into the room. The inspector +turned and faced him. +</p> +<p> +"Isaac Lalonde," he said, "I have a warrant for your arrest. I shall +want you to come with me to Bow Street." +</p> +<p> +With the certainty of danger, Isaac's fear seemed to vanish into +thin air. He saw the open door of his ransacked inner room and the +piled-up heap of weapons upon the table. Face to face with actual +danger, the, courage of a wild animal at bay seemed suddenly +vouchsafed to him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_230" id="Pg_230"></a>"Come with you to Hell!" he cried. "I think not, Mr. Inspector. Are +these the witnesses against me?" +</p> +<p> +He pointed to Ruth and Arnold. Ruth clutched her stick and staggered +tremblingly to her feet. +</p> +<p> +"How can you say that, Isaac!" she exclaimed. "Arnold and I have +only been home from the country a few minutes. We walked into the +room and found these men here. Isaac, I am terrified. Tell me that +you have not done anything really wrong!" +</p> +<p> +Isaac made no reply. All the time he watched the inspector +stealthily. The latter moved forward now, as though to make the +arrest. Then Isaac's hand shot out from his pocket and a long stream +of yellow fire flashed through the room. The inspector sprang back. +Isaac's hand, with the smoke still curling from the muzzle of his +pistol, remained extended. +</p> +<p> +"That was only a warning," Isaac declared, calmly. "I aimed at the +wall there. Next time it may be different." +</p> +<p> +There was a breathless silence. The inspector stood his ground but +he did not advance. +</p> +<p> +"Let me caution you, Isaac Lalonde," he said, "that the use of +firearms by any one in your position is fatal. You can shoot me, if +you like, and my assistant, but if you do you will certainly be +hanged. It is my duty to arrest you and I am going to do it." +</p> +<p> +Isaac's hand was still extended. This time he had lowered the muzzle +of his pistol. The inspector was only human and he paused, for he +was looking straight into the mouth of it. Isaac slowly backed +toward the door. +</p> +<p> +"Remember, you are warned!" he cried. "If any one pursues me, I +shoot!" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_231" id="Pg_231"></a>His departure was so sudden and so speedy that he was down the +first flight of stairs before the inspector started. Arnold, who was +nearest the door, made a movement as though to follow, but Ruth +threw her arms around him. The policeman who had been examining the +other room rushed past them both. +</p> +<p> +"You shall not go!" Ruth sobbed. "It is no affair of yours. It is +between the police and Isaac." +</p> +<p> +"I want to stop his shooting," Arnold replied. "He must be mad to +use firearms against the police. Let me go, Ruth." +</p> +<p> +"You can't!" she shrieked. "You can't catch him now!" +</p> +<p> +Then she suddenly held her ears. Three times quickly they heard the +report of the pistol. There was a moment's silence, then more shots. +Arnold picked Ruth up in his arms and, running with her across the +landing, laid her in his own easy-chair. +</p> +<p> +"I must see what has happened!" he exclaimed, breathlessly. "Wait +here." +</p> +<p> +She was powerless to resist him. He tore himself free from the +clutch of her fingers and rushed down the stairs, expecting every +moment to come across the body of one of the policemen. To his +immense relief, he reached the street without discovering any signs +of the tragedy he feared. Adam Street was deserted, but in the +gardens below the Terrace he could hear the sound of voices, and a +torn piece of clothing hung from the spike of one of the railings. +Isaac had evidently made for the gardens and the river. The sound of +the chase grew fainter and fainter, and there were no more shots. +Arnold, after a few minutes' hesitation, turned round and reclimbed +the stairs. The place smelt of <a name="Pg_232" id="Pg_232"></a>gunpowder, and little puffs of smoke +were curling upwards. +</p> +<p> +Arrived on the top landing, he closed the door of Isaac's room and +entered his own apartment. Ruth had dragged herself to the window +and was leaning out. +</p> +<p> +"He has gone across the gardens," she cried breathlessly. "I saw him +running. Perhaps he will get away, after all. I saw one of the +policemen fall down, and he was quite a long way ahead then." +</p> +<p> +"At any rate, no harm was done by the firing," Arnold declared. "I +don't think he really shot at them at all." +</p> +<p> +They knelt side by side before the window-sill. The gardens were +still faintly visible in the dim moonlight, but all signs of +disturbance had passed away. She clung nervously to his arm. +</p> +<p> +"Arnold," she whispered, "tell me, what do you think he has done?" +</p> +<p> +"I don't suppose he has done anything very much," Arnold replied, +cheerfully. "What I really think is that he has got mixed up with +some of these anarchists, writing for this wretched paper, and they +have probably let him in for some of their troubles." +</p> +<p> +They stayed there for a measure of time they were neither of them +able to compute. At last, with a little sigh, he rose to his feet. +For the first time they began to realize what had happened. +</p> +<p> +"Isaac will not come back," he said. +</p> +<p> +She clung to him hysterically. +</p> +<p> +"Arnold," she cried, "I am nervous. I could not sleep in that room. +I never want to see it again as long as I live." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_233" id="Pg_233"></a>For a moment he was perplexed. Then he smiled. "It's rather an +awkward situation for us attic dwellers," he remarked. "I'll bring +your couch in here, if you like, and you can lie before the window, +where it's cool." +</p> +<p> +"You don't mind?" she begged. "I couldn't even think of going to +sleep. I should sit up all night, anyhow." +</p> +<p> +"Not a bit," he assured her. "I don't think it would be much use +thinking about bed." +</p> +<p> +He made his way back into Isaac's apartments, brought out her couch +and arranged it by the window. She lay down with a little sigh of +relief. Then he dragged up his own easy chair to her side and held +her hand. They heard Big Ben strike two o'clock, and soon afterwards +Arnold began to doze. When he awoke, with a sudden start, her hand +was still in his. Eastward, over the city, a faint red glow hung in +the heavens. The world was still silent, but in the delicate, pearly +twilight the trees in the gardens, the bridge, and the buildings in +the distance—everything seemed to stand out with a peculiar and +unfamiliar distinctness. She, too, was sitting up, and they looked +out of the window together. Five o'clock was striking now. +</p> +<p> +"I've been asleep!" Arnold exclaimed. "Something woke me up." +</p> +<p> +She nodded. +</p> +<p> +"There is some one knocking at the door outside," she whispered. +"That is what woke you. I heard it several minutes ago." +</p> +<p> +He jumped up at once. +</p> +<p> +"I will go and see what it is," he declared. +</p> +<p> +He opened the door and looked out onto the landing. <a name="Pg_234" id="Pg_234"></a>The knocking +was at the door of Isaac's apartment. Two policemen and a man in +plain clothes were standing there. +</p> +<p> +"There is no one in those rooms," Arnold said. "The door shuts with +a spring lock, but I have a key here, if you wish to enter." +</p> +<p> +The sergeant looked at Arnold and approved of him. +</p> +<p> +"I have an order to remove some firearms and other articles," he +announced. "Also, can you tell me where the young woman—Ruth +Lalonde—is?" +</p> +<p> +"She is in my room," Arnold replied. "She was too terrified to +remain alone over there. You don't want her, do you?" he asked, +anxiously. +</p> +<p> +The man shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"I have no definite instructions concerning her," he said, "but we +should like to know that she has no intention of going away." +</p> +<p> +Arnold threw open the door before them. +</p> +<p> +"I am sure that she has not," he declared. "She is quite an invalid, +and besides, she has nowhere else to go." +</p> +<p> +The sergeant gave a few orders respecting the movement of a pile of +articles covered over by a tablecloth, which had been dragged out of +Isaac's room. Before he had finished, Arnold ventured upon the +question which had been all the time trembling upon his lips. +</p> +<p> +"This man Isaac Lalonde—was he arrested?" +</p> +<p> +The sergeant made no immediate reply. +</p> +<p> +"Tell me, at least, was any one hurt?" Arnold begged. +</p> +<p> +"No one was shot, if you mean that," the sergeant admitted. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_235" id="Pg_235"></a>"Is Isaac in custody?" +</p> +<p> +"He very likely is by this time," the sergeant said. "As a matter of +fact, he got away. A friend of yours, is he?" +</p> +<p> +"Certainly not," Arnold answered. "I have an attic on the other side +of the landing there, and I have made friends with the girl. My +interest in Isaac Lalonde is simply because she is his niece. Can +you tell me what the charge is against him?" +</p> +<p> +"We believe him to be one of a very dangerous gang of criminals," +the sergeant replied. "I can't tell you more than that. If you take +my advice, sir," he continued, civilly, "you will have as little as +possible to do with either the man or the girl. There's no doubt +about the man's character, and birds of a feather generally flock +together." +</p> +<p> +"I am perfectly certain," Arnold declared, vigorously, "that if +there has been anything irregular in her uncle's life, Miss Lalonde +knew nothing of it. We both knew that he talked wildly, but, for the +rest, his doings have been as much a mystery to her as to me." +</p> +<p> +The sergeant was summoned by one of his subordinates. The two men +stood whispering together for a few moments. He turned finally +toward Arnold. +</p> +<p> +"I shall have to ask you to leave us now, sir," he said civilly. +</p> +<p> +"There's nothing more you can tell me about this affair, I suppose?" +Arnold asked. +</p> +<p> +The sergeant shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"You will hear all about it later on, sir." +</p> +<p> +Arnold turned reluctantly back to his own room, where Ruth, was +anxiously waiting. He closed the door carefully behind him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_236" id="Pg_236"></a>"Isaac has escaped," he announced, "and no one was hurt." +</p> +<p> +She drew a little sigh of immense relief. +</p> +<p> +"Did they tell you what the charge was?" +</p> +<p> +"Not definitely," he replied. "So far as I could make out from what +the sergeant said, it was keeping bad company as much as anything." +</p> +<p> +"The police are in the rooms now?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"Three more of them," he assented. "I don't know what they want but +evidently you'll have to stay here. Now I'm going to light this +spirit-lamp and make some coffee." +</p> +<p> +He moved cheerfully about the room, and she watched him all the time +with almost pathetic earnestness. Presently he brought the breakfast +things over to her side and sat at the foot of her couch while the +water boiled. He took her hand and held it caressingly. +</p> +<p> +"I shouldn't worry about Isaac," he said. "I don't suppose he is +really very much mixed up with these fellows. He'll have to keep out +of the way for a time, that's all." +</p> +<p> +"There were the pistols," she faltered, doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +"I expect they saddled him with them because he was the least likely +to be suspected," Arnold suggested. "There's the water boiling +already. Now for it." +</p> +<p> +He cut some bread and butter and made the coffee. They ate and drank +almost in silence. Through the open window now the roar of traffic +was growing every minute in volume. Across the bridge the daily +stream of men and vehicles had commenced to flow. Presently he +glanced at the clock and, putting down his coffee cup, rose to his +feet. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_237" id="Pg_237"></a>"In a few minutes, dear, I must be off," he announced. "You won't +mind being left, will you?" +</p> +<p> +Her lips trembled. +</p> +<p> +"Why should I?" she murmured. "Of course you must go to work." +</p> +<p> +He went behind his little screen, where he plunged his head into a +basin of cold water. When he reappeared, a few minutes later, he was +ready to start. +</p> +<p> +"I expect those fellows will have cleared out from your rooms by +now," he said, throwing open the door. "Hullo, what's this?" +</p> +<p> +A trunk and hatbox had been dragged out onto the landing. A +policeman was sitting on a chair in front of the closed door, +reading a newspaper. +</p> +<p> +"We have collected the young lady's belongings, so far as possible, +sir," he remarked. "If there is anything else belonging to her, she +may be able to get it later on." +</p> +<p> +"Do you mean to say that she can't go back to her own rooms?" Arnold +demanded. +</p> +<p> +"I am sorry, sir," the man replied, "but I am here to see that no +one enters them under any pretext." +</p> +<p> +Arnold looked at him blankly. +</p> +<p> +"But what is the young lady to do?" he protested. "She has no other +home." +</p> +<p> +The policeman remained unmoved. +</p> +<p> +"Sorry, sir," he said, "but her friends will have to find her one +for the time being. She certainly can't come in here." +</p> +<p> +Arnold felt a sudden weight upon his arm. Ruth had been standing by +his side and had heard everything. He led her gently back. She was +trembling violently. +</p> +<p> +"Don't worry about me, Arnold," she begged. <a name="Pg_238" id="Pg_238"></a>"You go away. By the +time you come back, I—I shall have found a home somewhere." +</p> +<p> +He passed his arm around her. A wild flash in her eyes had suddenly +revealed her thought. +</p> +<p> +"Unless you promise me," he said firmly, "that I shall find you on +that couch when I return this evening, I shall not leave this room." +</p> +<p> +"But, Arnold,—" +</p> +<p> +"The business of Samuel Weatherley & Company," he interrupted, +glancing at the clock, "will be entirely disorganized unless you +promise." +</p> +<p> +"I promise," she murmured faintly. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0026"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_239" id="Pg_239"></a>CHAPTER XXV +</h2> +<h3> + MR. WEATHERLEY'S DISAPPEARANCE +</h3> +<p> +Arnold arrived at Tooley Street only a few minutes after his usual +time. He made his way at once into the private office and commenced +his work. At ten o'clock Mr. Jarvis came in. The pile of letters +upon Mr. Weatherley's desk was as yet untouched. +</p> +<p> +"Any idea where the governor is?" the cashier asked. "He's nearly +half an hour late." +</p> +<p> +Arnold glanced at the clock. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Weatherley is spending the week-end down the river," he said. +"I dare say the trains up are a little awkward." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis looked at him curiously. +</p> +<p> +"How do you happen to know that?" +</p> +<p> +"I was there yesterday for a short time," Arnold told him. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis whistled softly. +</p> +<p> +"Seems to me you're getting pretty chummy with the governor," he +remarked; "or is it Mrs. Weatherley, eh?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold lifted his head and looked fixedly at Mr. Jarvis. The latter +suddenly remembered that he had come in to search among the letters +for some invoices. <a name="Pg_240" id="Pg_240"></a>He busied himself for a moment or two, sorting +them out. +</p> +<p> +"Well, well," he said, "I hope the governor will soon be here, +anyway. There are a lot of things I want to ask him about this +morning." +</p> +<p> +A telephone bell at Arnold's desk began to ring. Arnold lifted the +receiver to his ear. +</p> +<p> +"Is that Mr. Weatherley's office?" a familiar voice inquired. +</p> +<p> +"Good morning, Mrs. Weatherley," he replied. "This is the office, +and I am Arnold Chetwode. We were just wondering what had become of +Mr. Weatherley." +</p> +<p> +"What had become of him?" the voice repeated. "But is he not there?" +</p> +<p> +"No sign of him at present," Arnold answered. +</p> +<p> +There was a short silence. Then Mrs. Weatherley spoke again. +</p> +<p> +"He left here," she said, "absurdly early—soon after seven, I think +it was—to motor up." +</p> +<p> +"Has the car returned?" Arnold asked. +</p> +<p> +"More than an hour ago," was the prompt reply. +</p> +<p> +"I can assure you that he has not been here," Arnold declared. +"You're speaking from Bourne End, I suppose?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes!" +</p> +<p> +"Will you please ask the chauffeur," Arnold suggested, "where he +left Mr. Weatherley?" +</p> +<p> +"Of course I will," she replied. "That is very sensible. You must +hold the line until I come back." +</p> +<p> +Arnold withdrew the receiver for a few minutes from his ear. Mr. +Jarvis had been listening to the conversation, his mouth open with +curiosity. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_241" id="Pg_241"></a>"Is that about the governor?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +Arnold nodded. +</p> +<p> +"It was Mrs. Weatherley speaking," he said. "It seems Mr. Weatherley +left Bourne End soon after seven o'clock this morning." +</p> +<p> +"Soon after seven o'clock?" Mr. Jarvis repeated. +</p> +<p> +"The car has been back there quite a long time," Arnold continued. +"Mrs. Weatherley has gone to make inquiries of the chauffeur." +</p> +<p> +"Most extraordinary thing," Mr. Jarvis muttered. "I can't say that +I've ever known the governor as late as this, unless he was ill." +</p> +<p> +Arnold put the receiver once more to his ear. In a moment or two +Mrs. Weatherley returned. Her voice was a little graver. +</p> +<p> +"I have spoken to the chauffeur," she announced. "He says that they +called first up in Hampstead to see if there were any letters, and +that afterwards he drove Mr. Weatherley over London Bridge and put +him down at the usual spot, just opposite to the London & +Westminster Bank. For some reason or other, as I dare say you know," +she went on, "Mr. Weatherley never likes to bring the car into +Tooley Street. It was ten minutes past nine when he set him down and +left him there." +</p> +<p> +Arnold glanced at the clock. +</p> +<p> +"It is now," he said, "a quarter to eleven. The spot you speak of is +only two hundred yards away, but I can assure you that Mr. +Weatherley has not yet arrived." +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Weatherley began to laugh softly. Even down the wires, that +laugh seemed to bring with it some flavor of her own wonderful +personality. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_242" id="Pg_242"></a>"Will there be a paragraph in the evening papers?" she asked, +mockingly. "I think I can see it now upon all the placards: +'Mysterious disappearance of a city merchant.' Poor Samuel!" +</p> +<p> +Arnold found it quite impossible to answer her lightly. The fingers, +indeed, which held the receiver to his ear, were shaking a little. +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Weatherley," he said, "can I see you to-day—as soon as +possible?" +</p> +<p> +"Why, of course you can, you silly boy," she laughed back. "I am +here all alone and I weary myself. Come by the next train or take a +taxicab. You can leave word for Mr, Weatherley, when he arrives, +that you have come by my special wish. He will not mind then." +</p> +<p> +"There is no sign of Mr. Weatherley at present," Arnold replied, +"and I could not leave here until I had seen him. I thought that +perhaps you might be coming up to town for something." +</p> +<p> +He could almost hear her yawn. +</p> +<p> +"Really," she declared, after a slight pause, "it is not a bad idea. +The sun will not shine to-day; there is a gray mist everywhere and +it depresses me. You will lunch with me if I come up?" +</p> +<p> +"If you please." +</p> +<p> +"I do please," she declared. "I think we will go to our own little +place—the Café André, and I will be there at half-past twelve. You +will be waiting for me?" +</p> +<p> +"Without a doubt," Arnold promised. +</p> +<p> +She began to laugh again. +</p> +<p> +"Without a doubt!" she mocked him. "You are a very stolid young man, +Arnold." +</p> +<p> +"To tell you the truth," he admitted, "I am a little bothered just +now. We want Mr. Weatherley badly, <a name="Pg_243" id="Pg_243"></a>and I don't understand his +having been within a few hundred yards of the office nearly two +hours ago and not having turned up here." +</p> +<p> +"He will arrive," she replied confidently. "Have no fear of that. +There are others to whom accidents and adventures might happen, but +not, I think, to Mr. Samuel Weatherley. I am sorry that you are +bothered, though, Mr. Chetwode. I think that to console you I shall +wear one of my two new muslin gowns which have just arrived from +Paris." +</p> +<p> +"What is she talking about all this time?" Mr. Jarvis, who was +itching with curiosity, broke in. +</p> +<p> +"I am called away now," Arnold declared down the telephone. "I shall +be quite punctual. Good-bye!" +</p> +<p> +He heard her laugh again as he hung up the receiver. +</p> +<p> +"Well, well," Mr. Jarvis demanded, "what is it all about? Have you +heard anything?" +</p> +<p> +"Nothing of any importance, I am afraid," Arnold admitted. "Mrs. +Weatherley laughs at the idea of anything having happened to her +husband." +</p> +<p> +"If nothing has happened to him," Mr. Jarvis protested, "where is +he?" +</p> +<p> +"Is there any call he could have paid on the way?" Arnold suggested. +</p> +<p> +"I have never known him to do such a thing in his life," Mr. Jarvis +replied. "Besides, there is no business call which could take two +hours at this time of the morning." +</p> +<p> +They rang up the few business friends whom Mr. Weatherley had in the +vicinity, Guy's Hospital, the bank, and the police station. The +reply was the same in all cases. Nobody had seen or heard anything +of Mr. Weatherley. Arnold even took down his hat and <a name="Pg_244" id="Pg_244"></a>walked +aimlessly up the street to the spot where Mr. Weatherley had left +the motor car. The policeman on duty had heard nothing of any +accident. The shoe-black, at the top of the steps leading down to +the wharves, remembered distinctly Mr. Weatherley's alighting at the +usual hour. Arnold returned to the office and sat down facing the +little safe which Mr. Weatherley had made over to him. After all, it +might be true, then, this thing which he had sometimes dimly +suspected. Beneath his very commonplace exterior, Mr. Weatherley had +carried with him a secret.... +</p> +<p> +At half-past twelve precisely, Arnold stood upon the threshold of +the passage leading into André's Café. Already the people were +beginning to crowd into the lower room, a curious, cosmopolitan +mixture, mostly foreigners, and nearly all arriving in twos and +threes from the neighboring business houses. At twenty minutes to +one, Mr. Weatherley's beautiful car turned slowly into the narrow +street and drove up to the entrance. Arnold hurried forward to open +the door and Fenella descended. She came to him with radiant face, a +wonderful vision in her spotless white gown and French hat with its +drooping veil. Arnold, notwithstanding his anxieties, found it +impossible not to be carried away for the moment by a wave of +admiration. She laughed with pleasure as she looked into his eyes. +</p> +<p> +"There!" she exclaimed. "I told you that for a moment I would make +you forget everything." +</p> +<p> +"There is a good deal to forget, too," he answered. +</p> +<p> +She shrugged her shoulders. +</p> +<p> +"You are always so gloomy, my young friend," she said. "We will have +luncheon together, you and I, and I will try and teach you how to be +gay. Tell me, <a name="Pg_245" id="Pg_245"></a>then," she went on, as they reached the landing and +she waited for Arnold to open the door leading into the private +room, "how is the little invalid girl this morning?" +</p> +<p> +"The little invalid girl is well," Arnold replied. +</p> +<p> +"She was not too tired yesterday, I hope?" Fenella asked. +</p> +<p> +"Not in the least," Arnold assured her. "We both of us felt that we +did not thank you half enough for our wonderful day." +</p> +<p> +"Oh, la, la!" Fenella exclaimed. "It was a whim of mine, that is +all. I liked having you both there. Some day you must come again, +and, if you are very good, I may let you bring the young lady, +though I'm not so sure of that. Do you know that my brother was +asking me questions about her until I thought my head would swim +last night?" she continued, curiously. +</p> +<p> +"Count Sabatini was very kind to her," Arnold remarked. "Poor little +girl, I am afraid she is going to have rather a rough time. She had +quite an alarming experience last night after our return." +</p> +<p> +"You must tell me all about it presently," Fenella declared. "Shall +we take this little round table near the window? It will be +delightful, that, for when we are tired with one another we can +watch the people in the street. Have you ever sat and watched the +people in the street, Arnold?" +</p> +<p> +"Not often," he answered, giving his hat to a waiter and following +her across the little room. "You see, there are not many people to +watch from the windows of where I live, but there is always the +river." +</p> +<p> +"A terribly dreary place," Fenella declared. +</p> +<p> +Arnold shook his head. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_246" id="Pg_246"></a>"Don't believe it," he replied. "Only a short time ago, the days +were very dark indeed. Ruth and I together did little else except +watch the barges come up, and the slowly moving vessels, and the +lights, and the swarms of people on Blackfriars Bridge. Life was all +watching then." +</p> +<p> +"One would weary soon," she murmured, "of being a spectator. You are +scarcely that now." +</p> +<p> +"There has been a great change," he answered simply. "In those days +I was very near starvation. I had no idea how I was going to find +work. Yet even then I found myself longing for adventures of any +sort,—anything to quicken the blood, to feel the earth swell +beneath my feet." +</p> +<p> +She was watching him with that curious look in her eyes which he +never wholly understood—half mocking, half tender. +</p> +<p> +"And after all," she murmured, "you found your way to Tooley Street +and the office of Mr. Samuel Weatherley." +</p> +<p> +She threw herself back in her chair and laughed so irresistibly that +Arnold, in a moment or two, found himself sharing her merriment. +</p> +<p> +"It is all very well," he said presently, "but I am not at all sure +that adventures do not sometimes come even to Tooley Street." +</p> +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"I shall never believe it. Tell me now about Mr. Weatherley? Was he +very sorry when he arrived for having caused you so much anxiety?" +</p> +<p> +"I have not yet seen Mr. Weatherley," Arnold replied. "Up till the +time when I left the office, he had not arrived." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_247" id="Pg_247"></a>She set down the glass which she had been in the act of raising to +her lips. For the first time she seemed to take this matter +seriously. +</p> +<p> +"What time was that?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"Ten minutes past twelve." +</p> +<p> +She frowned. +</p> +<p> +"It certainly does begin to look a little queer," she admitted. "Do +you think that he has met with an accident?" +</p> +<p> +"We have already tried the hospitals and the police station," he +told her. +</p> +<p> +She looked at him steadfastly. +</p> +<p> +"You have an idea—you have some idea of what has happened," she +said. +</p> +<p> +"Nothing definite," Arnold replied, gravely. "I cannot imagine what +it all means, but I believe that Mr. Weatherley has disappeared." +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0027"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_248" id="Pg_248"></a>CHAPTER XXVI +</h2> +<h3> + ARNOLD BECOMES INQUISITIVE +</h3> +<p> +For several moments Fenella sat quite still. She was suddenly an +altered woman. All the natural gayety and vivacity seemed to have +faded from her features. There were suggestions of another self, +zealously kept concealed. It was a curious revelation. Even her +tone, when she spoke, was altered. The words seemed to be dragged +from her lips. +</p> +<p> +"You have some reason for saying this," she murmured. +</p> +<p> +"I have," Arnold admitted. +</p> +<p> +Just then the waiter entered the room, bringing in a portion of the +lunch which they had ordered. Fenella rose and walked to a mirror +at the other end of the apartment. She stood there powdering her +cheeks for a moment, with her back turned to Arnold. When the +waiter had gone, she returned, humming a tune. Her effort at +self-rehabilitation was obvious. +</p> +<p> +"You gave me a shock, my friend," she declared, sitting down. +"Please do not do it again. I am not accustomed to having things put +to me quite so plainly." +</p> +<p> +"I am sorry," Arnold said. "It was hideously clumsy of me." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_249" id="Pg_249"></a>"It is of no consequence now," she continued. "Please to give me +some of that red wine and go on with your story. Tell me exactly +what you mean!" +</p> +<p> +"It is simply this," Arnold explained. "A few days ago, I noticed +that Mr. Weatherley was busy writing for several hours. It was +evidently some private matter and nothing whatever to do with the +business. When he had finished, he put some documents into a small +safe, locked them up, and, very much to my surprise, gave me the +key." +</p> +<p> +"This was long ago?" +</p> +<p> +"It was almost immediately after Mr. Rosario's murder," he replied. +"When he gave me the key, he told me that if anything unexpected +should happen to him, I was to open the safe and inspect the +documents. He particularly used the words 'If anything unexpected +should happen to me, or if I should disappear.'" +</p> +<p> +"You really believe, then," she asked, "that he had some idea in his +mind that something was likely to happen to him, or that he intended +to disappear?" +</p> +<p> +"His action proves it," Arnold reminded her. "So far as we know, +there is no earthly reason for his not having turned up at the +office this morning. This afternoon I shall open the safe." +</p> +<p> +"You mean that you will open it if you do not find him in the office +when you return?" +</p> +<p> +"He will not be there," Arnold said, decidedly. +</p> +<p> +Her eyes were filled with fear. He went on hastily. +</p> +<p> +"Perhaps I ought not to say that. I have nothing in the world to go +on. It is only just an idea of mine. It isn't that I am afraid +anything has happened to him, but I feel convinced, somehow, that we +shall not hear anything more of Mr. Weatherley for some time." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_250" id="Pg_250"></a>"You will open the safe, then, this afternoon?" +</p> +<p> +"I must," Arnold replied. +</p> +<p> +For several minutes neither of them spoke a word. Fenella made a +pretense at eating her luncheon. Arnold ate mechanically, his +thoughts striving in vain to focus themselves upon the immediate +question. It was she who ended the silence. +</p> +<p> +"What do you think you will find in those documents?" +</p> +<p> +"I have no idea," Arnold answered. "To tell you the truth," he went +on earnestly, "I was going to ask you whether you knew of anything +in his life or affairs which could explain this?" +</p> +<p> +"I am not sure that I understand you," she said. +</p> +<p> +"It seems a strange question," Arnold continued, "and yet it +presents itself. I was going to ask you whether you knew of any +reason whatsoever why Mr. Weatherley should voluntarily choose to go +into hiding?" +</p> +<p> +"You have something in your mind when you ask me a question like +this!" she said. "What should I know about it at all? What makes you +ask me?" +</p> +<p> +Then Arnold took his courage into both hands. Her eyes seemed to be +compelling him. +</p> +<p> +"What I am going to say," he began, "may sound very foolish to you. +I cannot help it. I only hope that you will not be angry with me." +</p> +<p> +Her eyes met his steadily. +</p> +<p> +"No," she murmured, "I will not be angry—I promise you that. It is +better that I should know exactly what is in your mind. At present I +do not understand." +</p> +<p> +His manner acquired a new earnestness. He forgot <a name="Pg_251" id="Pg_251"></a>his luncheon and +leaned across the table towards her. +</p> +<p> +"Fenella," he said, "try and consider how these things of which I am +going to speak must have presented themselves to me. Try, if you +can, and put yourself in my position for a few minutes. Before that +evening on which Mr. Weatherley asked me to come to your house, +nothing in the shape of an adventure had ever happened to me. I had +had my troubles, but they were ordinary ones, such as the whole +world knows of. From the day when I went to school to the day when I +had to leave college hurriedly, lost my father, and came up to +London a pauper, life with me was entirely an obvious affair. From +the night I crossed the threshold of your house, things were +different." +</p> +<p> +There was a cloud upon her face. She began to drum with her slim +forefingers upon the tablecloth. +</p> +<p> +"I think that I would rather you did not go on," she said. +</p> +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"I must," he declared, fervently. "These things have been in my mind +too long. It is not well for our friendship that I should have such +thoughts and leave them unuttered. On that very first evening—the +first time I ever saw you—you behaved, in a way, strangely. You +took me into your little sitting-room and I could see that you were +in trouble. Something was happening, or you were afraid that it was +going to happen. You sent me to the window to look out and see if +any one were watching the house. You remember all that?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes," she murmured, "I remember." +</p> +<p> +"There was some one watching it," Arnold went on. "I told you. I saw +your lips quiver with fear. Then <a name="Pg_252" id="Pg_252"></a>your husband came in and took you +away. You left me there in the room alone. I was to wait for you. +While I was there, one of the men, who had been watching, stole up +through your garden to the very window. I saw his face. I saw his +hand upon the window-sill with that strange ring upon his finger. +You have not forgotten?" +</p> +<p> +"Forgotten!" she repeated. "As though that were possible!" +</p> +<p> +"Very well," Arnold continued. "Now let me ask you to remember +another evening, only last week, the night I dined with your +brother. I brought you home from the <i>Empire</i> and we found that your +sitting-room had been entered from that same window. The door was +locked and we all thought that burglars must be there. I climbed in +at the window from the garden. You know what I found." +</p> +<p> +All the time she seemed to have been making an effort to listen to +him unconcernedly. At this point, however, she broke down. She +abandoned her attempt at continuing her luncheon. She looked up at +him and he could see that she was trembling. +</p> +<p> +"Don't go on!" she begged; "please don't!" +</p> +<p> +"I must," he insisted. "These things have taken possession of me. I +cannot sleep or rest for thinking of them." +</p> +<p> +"For my sake," she implored, "try and forget!" +</p> +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"It isn't possible," he said simply. "I am not made like that. Even +if you hate me for it, I must go on. You know what I found in your +sitting-room that night." +</p> +<p> +"But this is cruel!" she murmured. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_253" id="Pg_253"></a>"I found a dead man, a man who, to all appearance, had been +murdered in there. Not only that, but there must have been people +close at hand who were connected with him in some way, or who were +responsible for the crime. We left the room for five minutes, and +when we came back he had disappeared. All that we can judge as to +what became of him is that that same night a dead man was left in a +taxicab, not far away, by an unknown man whom as yet the police have +failed to find." +</p> +<p> +"But this is all too horrible!" she murmured. "Why, do you remind me +of it?" +</p> +<p> +"Because I must," he went on. "Listen. There are other things. This +man Starling, for instance, whom I met at your house, and who is +suspected of the murder of Rosario—both your brother and you seem +to be trying to shield him. I don't understand it; I can't +understand it. Your brother talked to me strangely the night I dined +with him, but half the time I felt that he was not serious. I do not +for a moment believe that he would stoop to any undignified or +criminal action. I believe in him as I do in you. Yet if Starling is +guilty, why do you both protect him?" +</p> +<p> +"Is there anything else?" she faltered. +</p> +<p> +"There is the final thing," he reminded her; "the reason why I have +mentioned these matters to you at all—I mean the disappearance of +Mr. Weatherley. Supposing he does not come back, how am I to keep +silent, knowing all that I know, knowing that he was living in a +house surrounded by mysteries? I hate my suspicions. They are like +ugly shadows which follow me about. I like and admire your brother, +and you—you know—" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_254" id="Pg_254"></a>He could not finish his sentence. She raised her eyes and he saw +that they were full of tears. +</p> +<p> +"Help me," he begged. "You can if you will. Give me your confidence +and I will tell you something which I think that even you do not +know." +</p> +<p> +"Something concerned with these happenings?" +</p> +<p> +"Something concerned with them," he assented. "I will tell you +when and by whom the body of that man was removed from your +sitting-room." +</p> +<p> +She sat looking at him like a woman turned to stone. There was +incredulity in her eyes, incredulity and horror. +</p> +<p> +"You cannot know that!" she faltered. +</p> +<p> +"I do know it," he asserted. +</p> +<p> +"Why have you kept this a secret from me?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"I do not know," he answered. "Somehow or other, when I have been +with you I have felt more anxious to talk of other things. Then +there was another reason which made me anxious to forget the whole +affair if I could. I had some knowledge of one of the men who were +concerned in taking him away." +</p> +<p> +The waiter was busy now with the removal of their luncheon. To +Arnold, the necessary exchange of commonplaces was an immense +relief. It was several minutes before they were alone again. Then +she leaned across towards him. She had lit a cigarette now, and, +although she was very thoughtful, she seemed more at her ease. +</p> +<p> +"Listen," she began. "I do not ask you to tell me anything more +about that night—I do not wish to hear anything. Tell me instead +exactly what it is that you want from me!" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_255" id="Pg_255"></a>"I want nothing more nor less," he answered gently, "than +permission to be your friend and to possess a little more of your +confidence. I want you to end this mystery which surrounds the +things of which I have spoken." +</p> +<p> +"And supposing," she said thoughtfully, "supposing I find that my +obligations to other people forbid me to discuss these matters any +more with you?" +</p> +<p> +"I can only hope," he answered, "that you will not feel like that. +Remember that these things must have some bearing upon the +disappearance of Mr. Weatherley." +</p> +<p> +She rose to her feet with a little shrug of the shoulders and walked +up and down the room for several moments, smoking and humming a +light tune to herself. Arnold watched her, struggling all the time +against the reluctant admiration with which she always inspired him. +She seemed to read in his eyes what was passing in his mind, for +when at last she came to a standstill she stood by his side and +laughed at him, with faintly upraised eyebrows, the cigarette smoke +curling from her lips. +</p> +<p> +"And it was for a luncheon such as this," she protested, "that I +wore my new muslin gown and came all the way from the country. I +expected compliments at least. Perhaps I even hoped," she whispered, +leaning a little towards him, with a smile upon her lips,—half +mirthful, half provocative,—"that I might have turned for a moment +that wonderfully hard head of yours." +</p> +<p> +Arnold rose abruptly to his feet. +</p> +<p> +"You treat men as though they were puppets," he muttered. +</p> +<p> +"And you speak of puppets," she murmured, "as <a name="Pg_256" id="Pg_256"></a>though theirs was a +most undesirable existence. Have you never tried to be a puppet, +Arnold?" +</p> +<p> +He stepped a little further back still and gripped the back of the +chair, but she kept close to him. +</p> +<p> +"I am to have no other answer from you, then, but this foolery?" he +demanded, roughly. +</p> +<p> +"Why, yes!" she replied, graciously. "I have an answer ready for +you. You are so abrupt. Listen to what I propose. We will go +together to your office and see whether it is true that Mr. +Weatherley has not returned. If he has really disappeared, and I +think that anything which I can tell you will help, perhaps then I +will do as you ask. It depends a great deal upon what you find in +those papers. Shall we go now, or would you like to stay here a +little longer?" +</p> +<p> +"We will go at once," he said firmly. +</p> +<p> +She sighed, and passed out of the door which he had thrown open. +</p> +<p> +"It is I who am a heroine," she declared. "I am coming down to +Tooley Street with you. I am coming to brave the smells and the fog +and the heat." +</p> +<p> +He handed her into the car. He had sufficiently recovered his +self-control to smile. +</p> +<p> +"In other words," he remarked, "you mean to be there when I open the +safe!" +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0028"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_257" id="Pg_257"></a>CHAPTER XXVII +</h2> +<h3> + THE LETTERS IN THE SAFE +</h3> +<p> +The arrival of Arnold, accompanied by Mrs. Weatherley, created a +mild sensation in Tooley Street. Mr. Jarvis, fussier than ever, and +blinking continually behind his gold-rimmed spectacles, followed +them into the private office. +</p> +<p> +"You have heard nothing of Mr. Weatherley?" Arnold asked. +</p> +<p> +"Not a word," the cashier answered. "We have rung up several more +places and have tried the hospitals again. We were all hoping that +Mrs. Weatherley had brought us some news." +</p> +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Weatherley left home exceedingly early this morning," she +announced. "I believe that it was before half-past seven. Except +that he called at the house in Hampstead for the letters, I have not +heard of him since." +</p> +<p> +"It is most mysterious," Mr. Jarvis declared. "The governor—I beg +your pardon, Mr. Weatherley—is a gentleman of most punctual habits. +There are several matters of business which he knew awaited his +decision to-day. You will excuse me, madam, if I ask whether <a name="Pg_258" id="Pg_258"></a>Mr. +Weatherley seemed in his usual health when he left this morning?" +</p> +<p> +Fenella smiled faintly. +</p> +<p> +"Have I not already told you," she said, "that he left the cottage +in the country, where we spent the week-end, before half-past seven +this morning? Naturally, therefore, I did not see him. The servants, +however, noticed nothing unusual. Last night Mr. Chetwode here was +with us, and he can tell you what was apparent to all of us. Mr. +Weatherley seemed then in excellent health and spirits." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis had the air of a man hopelessly bewildered. Excellent +servant though he was, nature had not bestowed upon him those gifts +which enable a man to meet a crisis firmly. +</p> +<p> +"Can you suggest anything that we ought to do, madam?" he asked Mrs. +Weatherley. +</p> +<p> +"I think," she replied, "that Mr. Chetwode has something to tell +you." +</p> +<p> +Arnold took the key of the safe from his pocket and turned to the +cashier. +</p> +<p> +"A few days ago, Mr. Jarvis," he said slowly, "Mr. Weatherley placed +certain documents in that safe and gave me the key. My instructions +from him were to open and examine them with you, if he should be, +for any unexplained cause, absent from business." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis looked blankly incredulous. +</p> +<p> +"Goodness gracious!" he murmured weakly. "Why, that looks almost as +though he expected something of the sort to happen." +</p> +<p> +"I think," Arnold continued, "that as it is now past three o'clock, +and Mr. Weatherley is still absent, we had better open the safe." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_259" id="Pg_259"></a>He crossed the room as he spoke, fitted the key in the lock, and +swung the door open. Mrs. Weatherley and the cashier looked over his +shoulder. There were only the two letters there. One was addressed +to Messrs. Turnbull & James, Solicitors; the other jointly to Mr. +Jarvis and Mr. Arnold Chetwode. +</p> +<a name="image-0006"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/img259.jpg" width="348" height="450" +alt="Mrs. Weatherley and the cashier looked over his +shoulder." /> +</center> +<p class="cap">Mrs. Weatherley and the cashier looked over his +shoulder. <i>Page</i> <a href="#Pg_259">259</a>. +</p> + +<p> +"There is nothing there for me?" Mrs. Weatherley asked, +incredulously. +</p> +<p> +"There is nothing at all," Arnold replied; "unless there may be an +enclosure. Mr. Jarvis, will you open this envelope?" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis took it to the desk and broke the seal with trembling +fingers. He smoothed the letter out, switched on the electric +reading light, and they all read it at the same time. It was written +in Mr. Weatherley's familiar hand, every letter of which was +perfectly distinct and legible. +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p> + <span class="sc">To Jarvis and Chetwode</span>. +</p> +<p> This is a record of certain instructions which I wish + carried out in the event of my unexplained absence from + business at any time. +</p> +<p> Firstly—The business is to continue exactly as usual, + and my absence to be alluded to as little as possible. It + can be understood that I am away on the Continent or + elsewhere, on a business voyage. +</p> +<p> Secondly—I have deposited a power of attorney at my + solicitors, made out in the joint names of Henry Jarvis + and Arnold Chetwode. This will enable you both to make + and receive contracts on behalf of the firm. As regards + financial affairs, Messrs. Neville, the accountants, have + already the authority to sign cheques, and a + representative from their firm will be in attendance each + day, or according to your request. My letter to Messrs. + Turnbull & James empowers them to make such payments as + are necessary, on the joint application of you two, Henry + Jarvis and Arnold Chetwode, to whom I address this + letter. +</p> +<p> <a name="Pg_260" id="Pg_260"></a>Thirdly—I have the most implicit confidence in Henry + Jarvis, who has been in my employ for so many years, and + I beg him to understand that I associate with him one so + much his junior, for certain reasons into which I beg + that he will not inquire. +</p> +<p> Fourthly—I repeat that I desire as little publicity as + possible to be given to my absence, and that no money be + spent on advertisements, or any other form of search. If + within two years from the date of the opening of this + letter, I have not been heard from further, I desire that + the usual steps be taken to presume my decease. My will + and all further particulars are with Messrs. Turnbull & + James. +</p> +<p> Fifthly—I desire you to pay to my wife the sum of five + hundred pounds monthly. All other matters concerning my + private estate, etc. are embodied in the letter to + Messrs. Turnbull & James. +</p> +</div> + +<p> +They all finished reading the letter about the same time. Mr. +Jarvis' bewilderment grew deeper and deeper. +</p> +<p> +"This is the most extraordinary document I ever read in my life!" he +exclaimed. "Why, it seems as though he had gone away somewhere of +his own accord. After all, it can't be an accident, or anything of +that sort." +</p> +<p> +Neither Arnold nor Mrs. Weatherley made any immediate reply. She +pointed to the letter. +</p> +<p> +"When did he write this?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"Last Thursday," Arnold replied; "less than a week ago." +</p> +<p> +She sighed softly. +</p> +<p> +"Really, it is most mysterious," she said. "I wonder whether he can +have gone out of his mind suddenly, or anything of that sort." +</p> +<p> +"I have never," Mr. Jarvis declared, "known Mr. Weatherley to +display so much acumen and zest in business <a name="Pg_261" id="Pg_261"></a>as during the last few +days. Some of his transactions have been most profitable. Every one +in the place has remarked upon it." +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Weatherley took up the lace parasol which she had laid upon the +office table. +</p> +<p> +"It is all most bewildering," she pronounced. "I think that it is no +use my staying here any longer. I will leave you two to talk of it +together. You have doubtless much business to arrange." +</p> +<p> +"Are you going back to Bourne End or to Hampstead?" Arnold asked. +</p> +<p> +She hesitated. +</p> +<p> +"Really, I am not quite sure," she replied, meeting his gaze without +flinching. "I am beginning to find the heat in town insufferable. I +think, perhaps, that I shall go to Bourne End." +</p> +<p> +"In that case," Arnold said, "will you allow me to see you there +to-night?" +</p> +<p> +"To-night?" she repeated, as though in surprise. +</p> +<p> +"Without a doubt." +</p> +<p> +She did not answer him for a moment. Meanwhile, the telephone rang, +and Mr. Jarvis was presently engrossed in a business conversation +with a customer. Arnold lowered his voice a little. +</p> +<p> +"Our discussion at luncheon was only postponed," he reminded her. +"We have seen these documents. We know now that Mr. Weatherley had +some reason to fear an interruption to his everyday life. Directly +or indirectly, that interruption is connected with certain things of +which you and I have spoken together. I am going to ask you, +therefore, to keep your promise. I am going to ask you to tell me +everything that you know." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_262" id="Pg_262"></a>"Are you not afraid," she asked, "that I shall consider you a very +inquisitive young man?" +</p> +<p> +"I am afraid of nothing of the sort," Arnold replied. "Mr. +Weatherley's disappearance is too serious a matter for me to take +such trifles into account." +</p> +<p> +She pointed to the letter which still lay upon the table. +</p> +<p> +"Is it not his expressed wish that you should make no effort towards +solving the reasons for his disappearance?" +</p> +<p> +"There is no reason," Arnold answered, doggedly, "why one should not +attempt to understand them." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis had finished his telephoning. Fenella went up to him with +outstretched hand. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Jarvis," she said, "there is nothing more I can do here. I am +very much upset. Will you take me out to my car, please? I know that +you will do the very best you can without Mr. Weatherley, and I am +glad that you have Mr. Chetwode to help you. I would come down +myself sometimes," she added, "but I am sure that I should only be +in the way. Good afternoon, Mr. Chetwode." +</p> +<p> +"You have not answered my question," he persisted. +</p> +<p> +She looked at him as a great lady would look at a presuming servant. +</p> +<p> +"I see no necessity," she replied. "I am too much upset to receive +visitors to-day. If you are ready, Mr. Jarvis." +</p> +<p> +She left the room without even a backward glance, closely followed +by the cashier. Arnold stood looking after the retreating figures +for a moment, then he turned away with a hard little laugh. Once +more he read and re-read Mr. Weatherley's letter. Before <a name="Pg_263" id="Pg_263"></a>he had +finished, Mr. Jarvis came bustling back into the room. +</p> +<p> +"Well!" he exclaimed, dramatically. "Well!" +</p> +<p> +Arnold looked across at him. +</p> +<p> +"It's a queer business, isn't it?" he remarked. +</p> +<p> +"Queer business, indeed!" Mr. Jarvis repeated, sitting down and +wiping his forehead. "It's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard +of in my life. One doesn't read about such things even in books. +Mrs. Weatherley seems to take it quite calmly, but the more I think +of it, the more confused I become. What are we to do? Shall we go to +the police or write to the newspapers? Can't you suggest something?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold finally laid down the letter, which he now knew pretty well +by heart. +</p> +<p> +"It seems to me, Mr. Jarvis," he said, "that the thing for us to do +is to obey orders. Mr. Weatherley expressly writes that he wishes us +to take his absence, so far as possible, as a matter of course, and +to look after the business. The very fact that he puts it like that +makes it quite clear to me that he intends to return. My idea is +that we should follow the lines of his letter strictly." +</p> +<p> +"You are quite right, Chetwode," Mr. Jarvis decided. "I feel exactly +that way about the matter myself. We'll go right ahead with those +orders now, then, and we can have a chat about the matter again +after business hours, if you don't mind. It's hard to reconcile +oneself to taking this so easily, but I suppose it's the only thing +to do. I'll get out in the warehouse now. You had better send that +note round to Turnbull's by express messenger, and ring up Yardley's +about the American contracts." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_264" id="Pg_264"></a>Mr. Jarvis bustled away. Arnold himself found plenty to do. The +business of Messrs. Weatherley & Company must go on, whatever +happened. He set himself sedulously to make his mind a complete +blank. It was not until the offices were closed, and he turned at +last westwards, that he permitted himself even to realize this +strange thing that had happened. On that first walk was born an +impulse which remained with him for many weeks afterwards. He found +himself always scanning the faces of the streams of people whom he +was continually passing, on foot and in vehicles, half expecting +that somewhere among them he would catch a glimpse of the features +of the lost Mr. Weatherley. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0029"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_265" id="Pg_265"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII +</h2> +<h3> + TALK OF TREASURE SHIPS +</h3> +<p> +In the twilight of the long spring evening, Ruth sat waiting in the +bare room which had been Arnold's habitation during these days of +his struggle against poverty. She was sitting on the couch, drawn up +as usual to the window, her elbows upon her knees, her hands +supporting her delicate, thoughtful face. Already the color which +the sunshine had brought seemed to have been drained from her +cheeks. Her eyes were unnaturally bright, her expression seemed to +have borrowed something of that wistful earnestness of one of the +earlier Madonnas, seeking with pathetic strenuousness to discover +the germs of a truth which was as yet unborn. The clouds, which hung +low over the other side of the river, were tinged with an unusual +coloring, smoke-stained as they hovered over the chimneys. They grew +clearer and more full of amber color as they floated slowly +southwards. Through the open window came the ceaseless roar of the +city, the undernote of grinding, commonplace life, seeking always to +stifle and enchain the thoughts which would escape. Before her was +spread out a telegram. She had read it many times, until every word +was familiar to her. It was from Arnold, and she had received it +several hours ago. +</p> +<p class="blockquot"> + + <a name="Pg_266" id="Pg_266"></a>Please be prepared to go out with me directly I return + this evening. All well. Love. Arnold. +</p> +<p> +It was past eight o'clock before her vigil was at an end. She +listened to his step upon the stairs, and, as he entered, looked at +him with all the eagerness of a wistful child, tremulously anxious +to read his expression. A little wave of tenderness swept in upon +him. He forgot in a moment the anxieties and worries of the day, and +greeted her gayly. +</p> +<p> +"You got my telegram?" +</p> +<p> +"You extravagant person!" she answered. "Yes, I have been ready for +quite a long time." +</p> +<p> +He laughed. +</p> +<p> +"To tell you the truth, I didn't even pay for the telegram. As I had +to stay late, I took the liberty of sending it through the firm's +accounts. You see, I have become quite an important person in Tooley +Street all of a sudden. I'll tell you about it presently. Now hold +on tightly to your stick. I'm much too impatient to go down the +steps one by one. I'm going to carry you all the way." +</p> +<p> +"But where to?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"Leave it to me," he laughed. "There are all sorts of surprises for +you. The lady with the wand has been busy." +</p> +<p> +He carried her downstairs, where, to her surprise, she found a +taxicab waiting. +</p> +<p> +"But, Arnold," she exclaimed, "how could you think of such +extravagance! You know I can walk quite easily a little distance, if +I take your arm." +</p> +<p> +"I'll tell you all about it at dinner-time," he replied. +</p> +<p> +"Dinner-time?" she cried. "Dinner at this hour?" +</p> +<p> +"Why not? It's quite the fashionable hour, I can <a name="Pg_267" id="Pg_267"></a>assure you, and, +to tell you the truth, I am half starved." +</p> +<p> +She resigned herself with a sigh of content. After all, it was so +delightful to drift like this with some one infinitely stronger to +take the responsibility for everything. They drove to a large and +popular restaurant close at hand, where Arnold ordered the dinner, +with frequent corrections from Ruth, who sat with a menu-card in her +hand. A band was playing the music of the moment. It was all very +commonplace, but to Ruth it was like a living chapter out of her +book of dreams. Even there, though, the shadow pursued. She could +bear the silence no longer. She dropped her voice a little. The +place was crowded and there were people at the next table. +</p> +<p> +"Before I touch anything, Arnold, tell me this. Is there any news of +Isaac?" +</p> +<p> +"None at all," he replied. "It all seemed very alarming to us, but +it seems to be fizzling out. There is only quite a small paragraph +in the evening paper. You can read it, if you like." +</p> +<p> +He drew the <i>Evening News</i> from his pocket and passed it to her. The +paragraph to which he pointed was headed— +</p> + <p class="center"> ESCAPE OF AN ANARCHIST FROM ADAM STREET. +</p> +<p class="blockquot"> + Up to the time of going to press, the man Isaac Lalonde, + whom the police failed to arrest last night on a charge + not at present precisely stated, has not been + apprehended. The police are reticent about the matter, + but it is believed that the missing man was connected + with a dangerous band of anarchists who have lately come + to this country. +</p> +<p> +"Poor Isaac!" she murmured, with a little shiver. "Do you know, I +remember him years ago, when he <a name="Pg_268" id="Pg_268"></a>was the kindest-hearted man +breathing. He went to Russia to visit some of his mother's +relatives, and when he came back everything was changed. He saw +injustice everywhere, and it seemed almost to unbalance his mind. +The very sight of the west-end, the crowds coming out of the +theatres, the shops in Bond Street, seemed to send him half mad. And +it all started, Arnold, with real pity for the poor. It isn't a +personal matter with him at any time." +</p> +<p> +Arnold nodded thoughtfully. +</p> +<p> +"Poor chap!" he remarked. "Just at first I really used to like +talking to him. He was so earnest, and so many of his arguments were +absolutely sound." +</p> +<p> +"It is only lately," Ruth said, "that he has changed so much." +</p> +<p> +"I think it is quite time that you and he were separated," Arnold +declared. "It is evident, nowadays, that he isn't responsible for +his actions." +</p> +<p> +"Separated!" she repeated bitterly. "You talk as though I had a +choice of homes." +</p> +<p> +"You have," he assured her. "However, we won't say anything about +that just now. I want to talk about myself." +</p> +<p> +"And I want to listen, dear!" she exclaimed. "You must tell me what +has happened, Arnie. Has Mr. Weatherley taken you into partnership, +or has some one of your disagreeable relatives found you out and +been pouring money into your pockets?" +</p> +<p> +"Neither," he replied. "As a matter of fact, there is no Mr. +Weatherley just at present." +</p> +<p> +"No Mr. Weatherley?" she repeated, wonderingly. "I don't +understand." +</p> +<p> +The slightly worn look came back to Arnold's face. <a name="Pg_269" id="Pg_269"></a>Young and strong +though he was, he was beginning to feel the strain of the last few +days. +</p> +<p> +"A most extraordinary thing has happened, Ruth," he declared. "Mr. +Weatherley has disappeared." +</p> +<p> +She looked at him blankly. +</p> +<p> +"Disappeared? I don't understand." +</p> +<p> +"He simply didn't turn up at business this morning," Arnold +continued. "He left Bourne End about seven, and no one has set eyes +on him since." +</p> +<p> +She was bewildered. +</p> +<p> +"But how is it that that makes such a difference to you?" she asked. +"What can have happened to him?" +</p> +<p> +"No one knows," he explained; "but in a little safe, of which he had +given me the keys, he left behind some letters with instructions +that during his absence from business Mr. Jarvis and I should +jointly take charge. I can't really imagine why I should have been +put in such a position, but there it is. The solicitors have been +down this afternoon, and I am drawing six pounds a week and a +bonus." +</p> +<p> +She took his hand in hers and patted it gently. +</p> +<p> +"I am so very glad, Arnold," she said, "so very glad that the days +of your loneliness are over. Now you will be able to go and take +some comfortable rooms somewhere and make the sort of friends you +ought to have. Didn't I always foretell it?" she went on. "I used to +try and fancy sometimes that the ships we saw were bringing treasure +for me, too, but I never really believed that. It wasn't quite +likely." +</p> +<p> +He turned and looked at her. The first flush of excitement had left +her cheeks. She was very pale, and her soft gray eyes shone like +stars. Her mouth <a name="Pg_270" id="Pg_270"></a>was tremulous. It was the passing of a single +impulse of self-pity. +</p> +<p> +"Foolish little girl!" he exclaimed, under his breath. "You don't +really suppose that the treasure which came for me wasn't yours, +too? But there, we'll talk about our plans later on. At present, +what you have to do is to eat and to drink that glass of Burgundy +and to listen to me. I want to talk about myself." +</p> +<p> +It was the subtlest way to distract her thoughts. She listened to +him with keen interest while he talked of his day's work. It was not +until she mentioned Fenella's name that his face clouded over. +</p> +<p> +"Curiously enough, Mrs. Weatherley is displeased with me. I should +have thought it entirely through her influence and suggestions that +Mr. Weatherley had been so kind to me, but to-day I asked her some +questions which I felt that I had a right to ask, and have been told +to mind my own business. She left me at the office without even +saying 'Good afternoon.'" +</p> +<p> +"What sort of questions?" +</p> +<p> +"I don't know that I can tell you exactly what the questions were," +Arnold continued, "because they concerned some matters in which Mrs. +Weatherley and her brother were chiefly concerned. To tell you the +truth, ever since that night when I went to Hampstead to dine, the +oddest things seem to have happened to me. I have to pinch myself +sometimes to realize that this is London and that I am a clerk in +the office of a wholesale provision merchant. When I let myself go, +I seem to have been living in an unreal world, full of strange +excitements—a veritable Arabian Nights." +</p> +<p> +"There was that terrible murder," she murmured. "You saw that, +didn't you?" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_271" id="Pg_271"></a>He nodded. +</p> +<p> +"Not only saw it," he agreed, "but I seem, somehow, to have been +mixed up with people who know a great deal about it. However, I have +been told to mind my own business and I am going to. I have plenty +to occupy my thoughts in Tooley Street. I am going to close in my +little world and live there. The rest I am going to forget." +</p> +<p> +"You are coming back!" she whispered, with a joy in her tone which +amazed him. +</p> +<p> +"I suppose I am," he admitted. "I like and admire Mrs. Weatherley's +brother, Count Sabatini, and I have a genuine affection for Mrs. +Weatherley, but I don't understand them. I don't understand these +mysterious matters in which they seem mixed up." +</p> +<p> +"I do not believe," she declared, "that Count Sabatini would be +mixed up in anything dishonorable. Women so seldom make a mistake, +you know," she continued, "and I never met any one in my life who +seemed so kind and gentle." +</p> +<p> +Arnold sighed. +</p> +<p> +"I wish I could tell you everything," he said, "then I think you +would really be as bewildered as I am. Mr. Weatherley's +disappearance coming on the top of it all simply makes my brain +reel. I can't do anything to help straighten things out. Therefore, +I am going to do what I am told—I am going to mind my own +business." +</p> +<p> +"To think only of Tooley Street," she murmured. +</p> +<p> +"I shall find it quite enough," he answered. "I want to understand +all the details of the business, and it isn't easy at first. Mr. +Jarvis is very sound and good, but he's a very small man moving in a +very small <a name="Pg_272" id="Pg_272"></a>way. Even Mr. Weatherley used to laugh at his methods." +</p> +<p> +She was silent for several moments. He studied her expression +curiously. +</p> +<p> +"You don't believe that I shall be able to immerse myself in +business?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"It isn't exactly that," she replied. "I believe that you mean to +try, and I believe that to some extent you will succeed, but I +think, Arnold, that before very long you will hear the voices +calling again from the world where these strange things happened. +You are not made of the clay, dear, which resists for ever." +</p> +<p> +He moved uneasily in his seat. Her words sounded ominous. He was +suddenly conscious that his present state of determination was the +result of a battle, and that the war was not yet ended. +</p> +<p> +"She is so beautiful, that Mrs. Weatherley," Ruth continued, +clasping her hands together and looking for a moment away from her +surroundings. "No one could be blamed for climbing a little way out +of the dull world if she held out her hands. I have seen so little +of either of them, Arnold, but I do know that they both of them have +that curious gift—would you call it charm?—the gift of creating +affection. No one has ever spoken to me more kindly and more +graciously than Count Sabatini did when he sat by my side on the +lawn. What is that gift, Arnold? Do you know that with every word he +spoke I felt that he was not in the least a stranger? There was +something familiar about his voice, his manner—everything." +</p> +<p> +"I think that they are both quite wonderful people," Arnold +admitted. +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Weatherley, too, was kind," Ruth went on; <a name="Pg_273" id="Pg_273"></a>"but I felt that +she did not like me very much. She has an interest in you, and like +all women she was a little jealous—not in the ordinary way, I don't +mean," she corrected herself hastily, "but no woman likes any one in +whom she takes an interest to be very kind to any one else." +</p> +<p> +They had reached the stage of their coffee. The band was playing the +latest waltz. It was all very commonplace, but they were both young +and uncritical. The waltz was one which Fenella had played after +dinner at Bourne End, while they had sat out in the garden, +lingering over their dessert. A flood of memories stirred him. The +soft sensuousness of that warm spring night, with its perfumed +silence, its subtly luxurious setting, stole through his senses like +a narcotic. Ruth was right. It was not to be so easy! He called for +his bill and paid it. Ruth laid her fingers upon his arm. +</p> +<p> +"Arnold," she began timidly, "there is something more. I scarcely +know how to say it to you and yet it ought not to be difficult. You +talk all the time as though you were my brother, or as though it +were your duty to help me. It isn't so, dear, really, is it? If you +could manage to lend me your room for one week, I think that I might +be able to help myself a little. There is a place the clergyman told +us of who came to see me once—" +</p> +<p> +Arnold interrupted her almost roughly. A keen pang of remorse +assailed him. He knew very well that if she had not been intuitively +conscious of some change in him, the thought which prompted her +words would never have entered her brain. +</p> +<p> +"Don't let me hear you mention it!" he exclaimed. "I have made all +the arrangements. It wouldn't do for <a name="Pg_274" id="Pg_274"></a>me to live in an attic now +that I am holding a responsible position in the city. Come along. +Lean on my arm and mind the corner." +</p> +<p> +They had purposely chosen a table close to the door, so that they +had only a few steps to take. Arnold called a taxi and handed Ruth +in before he told the man the address. +</p> +<p> +"Now close your eyes," he insisted, when they were together in the +cab. +</p> +<p> +Ruth did as she was told. +</p> +<p> +"I feel that it is all wrong," she murmured, leaning back, "but it +is like little bits out of a fairy book, and to-night I feel so weak +and you are so strong. It isn't any use my saying anything, Arnold, +is it?" +</p> +<p> +"Not a bit," he answered. "All that you have to do is to hold my +hand and wait." +</p> +<p> +In less than ten minutes the cab stopped. He hurried her into the +entrance hall of a tall, somewhat somber building. A man in uniform +rang a bell and the lift came down. They went up, it seemed to her, +seven or eight flights. When they stepped out, her knees were +trembling. He caught her up and carried her down a corridor. Then he +fitted a Yale key from his pocket into a lock and threw open the +door. There was a little hall inside, with three doors. He pushed +open the first; it was a small bedroom, plainly but not +unattractively furnished. He carried her a little way further down +the corridor and threw open another door—a tiny sitting-room with a +fire burning. +</p> +<p> +"Our new quarters!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "The room at the other +end of the passage is mine. A pound a week and a woman to come in +and light the fires! Mr. Jarvis let me have some money and I paid +<a name="Pg_275" id="Pg_275"></a>three months' rent in advance. What do you think of them?" +</p> +<p> +"I can't think," she whispered. "I can't!" +</p> +<p> +He carried her to the window. +</p> +<p> +"This is my real surprise, dear," he announced, in a tone of +triumph. "Look!" +</p> +<p> +The blind flew up at his touch. On the other side of the street was +a row of houses over which they looked. Beyond, the river, whose +dark waters were gleaming in the moonlight. On their left were the +Houses of Parliament, all illuminated. On their right, the long, +double line of lights shining upon the water at which they had gazed +so often. +</p> +<p> +"The lighted way, dear," he murmured, holding her a little more +closely to him. "While I am down in the city you can sit here and +watch, and you can see the ships a long way further off than you +could ever see them from Adam Street. You can see the bend, too. +It's always easier, isn't it, to fancy that something is coming into +sight around the corner?" +</p> +<p> +She was not looking. Her head was buried upon his shoulder. Arnold +was puzzled. +</p> +<p> +"Look up, Ruth dear," he begged. "I want you to look now—look along +the lighted way and hold my hand very tightly. Don't you think that, +after all, one of your ships has come home?" +</p> +<p> +She lifted her face, wet with tears, and looked in the direction +where he pointed. Arnold, who felt nothing himself but a thrill of +pleasure at his new quarters, was puzzled at a certain trouble which +he seemed to see in her features, a faint hopelessness of +expression. She looked where he pointed but there was none of the +eager expectancy of a few weeks ago. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_276" id="Pg_276"></a>"It is beautiful, Arnold," she murmured, "but I can't talk just +now." +</p> +<p> +"I am going to leave you to get over it," he declared. "I'm off now +to fetch the luggage. You won't be afraid to be left here?" +</p> +<p> +She shook her head. A certain look of relief flashed across her +face. +</p> +<p> +"No, I shall not be afraid," she answered. +</p> +<p> +He wheeled the easy-chair up to the window which he had flung wide +open. He placed a cushion at the back of her head and left her with +a cheerful word. She heard his steps go down the corridor, the +rattle of the lift as it descended. Then her lips began to tremble +and the sobs to shake her shoulders. She held out her hands toward +that line of lights at which he had pointed, and her fingers were +clenched. +</p> +<p> +"It is because—I am like this!" she cried, half hysterically. "I +don't count!" +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0030"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_277" id="Pg_277"></a>CHAPTER XXIX +</h2> +<h3> + COUNT SABATINI VISITS +</h3> +<p> +There was an air of subdued excitement about the offices of Messrs. +Samuel Weatherley & Company from nine until half-past on the +following morning. For so many years his clerks had been accustomed +to see Mr. Weatherley stroll in somewhere about that time, his cigar +in his mouth, his silk hat always at the same angle, that it seemed +hard for them to believe that this morning they would not hear the +familiar footstep and greeting. Every time a shadow passed the +window, heads were eagerly raised. The sound of the bell on the +outside door brought them all to their feet. They were all on tiptoe +with expectation. The time, however, came and passed. The letters +were all opened, and Mr. Jarvis and Arnold were occupying the +private office. Already invoices were being distributed and orders +entered up. The disappearance of Mr, Weatherley was a thing +established. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis was starting the day in a pessimistic frame of mind. +</p> +<p> +"You may take my word for it, Chetwode," he said solemnly to his +companion, after he had finished going through the letters, "that we +shall never see the governor again." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_278" id="Pg_278"></a>Arnold was startled. +</p> +<p> +"Have you heard anything?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis admitted gloomily that he had heard nothing. +</p> +<p> +"It's my belief that nothing more will be heard," he added, "until +his body's found." +</p> +<p> +"Rubbish!" Arnold declared. "Mr. Weatherley wasn't the sort of man +to commit suicide." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis looked around the office as though he almost feared that +the ghost of his late employer might be listening. +</p> +<p> +"It is my belief," he said impressively, "that we none of us knew +the sort of man Mr. Weatherley was, or rather the sort of man he has +become since his marriage." +</p> +<p> +"I don't see what marriage with Mrs. Weatherley could have had to do +with his disappearance," Arnold remarked. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis looked foolishly wise from behind his gold-rimmed +spectacles. +</p> +<p> +"You haven't had the opportunity of watching the governor as I have +since his marriage," he declared. "Take my advice, Chetwode. You are +not married, I presume?" +</p> +<p> +"I am not," Arnold assured him. +</p> +<p> +"Nor thinking of it?" +</p> +<p> +"Nor thinking of it," Arnold repeated. +</p> +<p> +"When the time comes," Mr. Jarvis said, "don't you go poking about +in any foreign islands or places. If only the governor had left +those smelly European cheeses to take care of themselves, he'd be +sitting here in his chair at this moment, smoking a cigar and +handing me out the orders. You and I are, so to speak, in <a name="Pg_279" id="Pg_279"></a>a +confidential position now, Chetwode, and I am able to say things to +you about which I might have hesitated before. Do you know how much +the governor has spent during the last year?" +</p> +<p> +"No idea," Arnold replied. "Does it matter?" +</p> +<p> +"He has spent," Mr. Jarvis announced, solemnly, "close upon ten +thousand pounds." +</p> +<p> +"It sounds like a good deal," Arnold admitted, "but I expect he had +saved it." +</p> +<p> +"Of course he had saved it," Mr. Jarvis admitted; "but what has that +to do with it? One doesn't save money for the pleasure of spending +it. Never since my connection with the firm has Mr. Weatherley +attempted to spend anything like one half of his income." +</p> +<p> +"Then I should think it was quite time he began," Arnold declared. +"You are not going to suggest, I suppose, that financial +embarrassments had anything to do with Mr. Weatherley's +disappearance?" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis started. To him the suggestion sounded sacrilegious. +</p> +<p> +"My dear Chetwode," he said, "you must indeed be ignorant of the +resources of the firm when you make such a suggestion! I simply +wished to point out that after his marriage Mr. Weatherley +completely changed all his habits. It is not well for a man of his +age to change his habits.... God bless my soul, here is an +automobile stopping outside. If it should be Mr. Weatherley come +back!" +</p> +<p> +They both hurried eagerly to the window. The automobile, however, +which had drawn up outside, was larger and more luxurious than Mr. +Weatherley's. Count Sabatini, folding up his newspaper, made a +leisurely descent. The cashier looked at him curiously. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_280" id="Pg_280"></a>"Wonder who it is," he remarked. "Looks like some sort of a +foreigner." +</p> +<p> +"It is Mrs. Weatherley's brother," Arnold told him. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis was deeply interested. A moment later a card was brought +in. +</p> +<p> +"Gentleman wishes to see Mr. Chetwode." +</p> +<p> +"You can show him in," Arnold directed. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini was already upon the threshold. He carried his gray Homburg +hat in his hand; he seemed to bring with him a subtle atmosphere of +refinement. The perfection of his clothes, the faint perfume from +his handkerchief, his unusual yet unnoticeable tie—these things +were a cult to himself. The little array of clerks, through whose +ranks he had passed, stared after him in wonder. +</p> +<p> +"How are you, my young friend?" he asked, smiling at Arnold. +"Immersed in business, I suppose?" +</p> +<p> +"We are very busy, naturally," Arnold answered. "Please come in and +sit down." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini laid his hat and stick upon the table and commenced +leisurely to draw off his gloves. +</p> +<p> +"This is Mr. Jarvis, who has been Mr. Weatherley's right-hand man +for a great many years," Arnold said, introducing him; "Count +Sabatini, Mr. Weatherley's brother-in-law." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis shook hands solemnly. +</p> +<p> +"I am glad to know you, sir," he declared. "I have not had the +pleasure of seeing much of Mrs. Weatherley, but my connection with +the firm is a very old one." +</p> +<p> +"Is there any news," asked Sabatini, "of our esteemed friend?" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis shook his head mournfully. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_281" id="Pg_281"></a>"There is no news," he announced. "I am afraid, sir, that it will +be a long time before we do hear any news. If your business is with +Mr. Chetwode, Count Sabatini," he added, "I will ask you to excuse +me. I have plenty to do in the warehouse. If there is any +information I can give you on behalf of your sister or yourself, I +shall be very happy to come back if you will send for me." +</p> +<p> +He bustled out, closing the door after him. Sabatini looked around +with a faint smile, as though his surroundings amused him. He then +carefully deposited his gloves with his hat, selected the most +comfortable chair, and seated himself. +</p> +<p> +"So this is where the money is coined, eh?" he remarked. "It is +fortunate that I have discovered the place, for I need some." +</p> +<p> +Arnold smiled. +</p> +<p> +"We haven't had time to do much coining yet." +</p> +<p> +"Supposing I want five hundred pounds, could I have it?" Sabatini +asked. +</p> +<p> +Arnold shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"Certainly not," he replied, "unless you had cheeses to sell us for +it, or bacon. Messrs. Weatherley & Company are provision merchants, +not money-lenders." +</p> +<p> +"You have the control of the finances, haven't you?" +</p> +<p> +"To a certain extent, I have," Arnold admitted. +</p> +<p> +"Now how much is there in that safe, I wonder?" Sabatini asked. +</p> +<p> +"About thirteen hundred pounds—perhaps even more than that," Arnold +told him. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini withdrew the hand which had been fumbling in his pocket. +Arnold looked suddenly into the muzzle of a small, shining revolver. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_282" id="Pg_282"></a>"It was very foolish of you to give me that information," Sabatini +said. "You have not forgotten our long conversation, I trust? I +expounded to you most carefully the creed of my life. Five hundred +pounds, if you please," he added, politely. +</p> +<p> +"Not one ha'penny," Arnold answered, seating himself upon the table +and folding his arms. +</p> +<p> +"I'll give you until I count three," Sabatini announced, in a still, +cold voice. +</p> +<p> +"You can give me as long as you like," Arnold retorted, pleasantly. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini very deliberately counted three and pulled the trigger of +his revolver. There was a slight click. He looked down the muzzle of +the weapon and, with a little sigh, thrust it back into his pocket. +</p> +<p> +"This appears to be one of my failures," he declared. "Lend me five +shillings, then," he added. "I really came out without any silver +and I must keep up my reputation. I positively cannot leave this +office without loot of some sort." +</p> +<p> +Arnold handed his visitor two half-crowns, which the latter put +gravely into his pocket. +</p> +<p> +"Come and lunch with me to-day at my rooms," he invited. "Lady +Blennington and Fenella will be there. If you bring with you a +sufficient appetite, you may get value for your five shillings. It +is the only way you will ever get it back." +</p> +<p> +"Then I must resign myself to being robbed," Arnold answered. "We +haven't time, nowadays, for luncheon parties. On the whole, I think +I should be justified in putting the amount down to petty cash. I +might even debit Mrs. Weatherley's account with it." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini took out his cigarette case. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_283" id="Pg_283"></a>"You will forgive me?" he said. "In your offices, I believe, it is +not the custom, but I must confess that I find your atmosphere +abominable. Last night I saw Fenella. She told me of your +disagreement with her and your baseless suspicions. Really, +Chetwode, I am surprised at you." +</p> +<p> +"'Suspicions' seems scarcely the word," Arnold murmured. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini sighed. +</p> +<p> +"You are such a hideously matter-of-fact person," he declared. +"Fenella should have seen your attitude from the humorous point of +view. It would have appealed to me very much indeed." +</p> +<p> +"I am sorry if your sister misunderstood anything that I said," +Arnold remarked, a little awkwardly. +</p> +<p> +"My dear fellow," Sabatini continued, "there seems to have been very +little ground for misunderstanding. Fenella was positively hurt. She +says that you seem to look upon us as a sort of adventurer and +adventuress—people who live by their wits, you understand, from +hour to hour, without character or reputation. She is quite sure, in +her own mind, that you believe Mr. Weatherley's absence to be due to +our secret and criminal machinations." +</p> +<p> +"I am sorry," Arnold replied, "if anything I said to your sister has +given her that impression. The fact remains, however, that Mrs. +Weatherley has declined to give me any explanation of various +incidents which were certainly more than bewildering. One cannot +help feeling," he went on, after a moment's hesitation, "that if my +friendship were of any account to your sister—which, of course, it +isn't—she would look at the matter differently." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_284" id="Pg_284"></a>"My dear Chetwode," Sabatini declared, "my sympathies are entirely +with you. The trouble of it is, of course, that the explanations +which you demand will probably leave you only the more bewildered. +When I came to London," he continued, watching the smoke from his +cigarette, "I said to myself, 'In this great black city all hopes of +adventure must be buried. Fenella will become a model wife of the +<i>bourgeoisie</i>. I myself, if I stay, shall probably become director +of some city company where they pay fees, give up baccarat for +bridge, imbibe whiskey and soda instead of the wine of my country; +perhaps, even—who knows?—I may take to myself a wife and live in a +villa.' On the contrary, other things have happened. Even here the +earth has trembled a little under our feet. Even now we listen for +the storm." +</p> +<p> +"You talk to me always in parables," Arnold protested. "How am I to +understand what you mean?" +</p> +<p> +"You have reason, my young friend," Sabatini admitted calmly. "Ask +your questions." +</p> +<p> +"First of all, then, you know where Mr. Weatherley is!" +</p> +<p> +Sabatini made a wry face. +</p> +<p> +"Let us leave this respectable Weatherley out of the case for a +moment," he said. "To tell you the truth, I am weary of him. I would +speak of ourselves—of my sister and myself and those others. You +cannot deny that however wicked you may think us we are at least +interesting." +</p> +<p> +"Have you come here to make fun of me?" Arnold asked quietly. +</p> +<p> +"Not in the least," Sabatini assured him. "On the contrary, I have +come to make friends. My sister is <a name="Pg_285" id="Pg_285"></a>penitent. We have decided to +take your discretion for granted. I am here to explain. You want to +understand all these things which seem to you so mysterious. Well, +ask your questions. What is it that you wish to know?" +</p> +<p> +"Nothing," Arnold replied. "I have come to the conclusion that +I was wrong to speak to your sister as I did. I have a great +responsibility here which will occupy all my thoughts. I am going to +devote myself to work. The other things do not interest me any +longer." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini smiled. +</p> +<p> +"My young friend," he murmured, "you may say that to yourself, but +it is not true. It is not life for you to buy these articles of food +at one price and sell them for another; to hold the profit in your +hand and smile. That is what life means in Tooley Street. You could +do it for a little time, perhaps, but not for very long." +</p> +<p> +"It may seem absurd to you," Arnold protested, "but it's my duty for +the present, anyhow, and I am going to do it. I shall have to work +ten hours a day and I shall have no time for dreams. I am going to +stay in the atmosphere I have to live in." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"You must have relaxation." +</p> +<p> +"I can find it," Arnold replied. "I can find it without going so far +afield." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini was silent for a moment. He was a man of few expressions, +but he seemed a little disappointed. +</p> +<p> +"Will you do your duty any the less zealously, do you think," he +asked, "because you have friends who take an interest in you?" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_286" id="Pg_286"></a>Arnold was suddenly conscious of the ungraciousness of his +attitude. +</p> +<p> +"You don't understand!" he exclaimed, a little desperately. "Your +world wasn't made for me. I haven't any place in it. My work is +here. I can't allow myself always to be distracted. Your sister is +the most wonderful person I ever met, and it is one of the greatest +pleasures I have ever known to talk to her, even for a few minutes, +but I am more at peace with myself and with the world when I am away +from her." +</p> +<p> +There was a gleam of approval in Sabatini's dark eyes. He nodded +thoughtfully. +</p> +<p> +"It is well spoken. My sister chose to marry Samuel Weatherley, and +the women of our race have been famous throughout history for their +constancy. Must you, my dear young friend, go and hide your head in +the sand because a woman is beautiful and chooses to be kind to you? +Fenella values your friendship. You have done her a service and you +have done me a service. A few nights ago it amused me to feed your +suspicions. This morning I feel otherwise. We do not choose, either +of us, that you should think of us quite in the way you are thinking +now." +</p> +<p> +Arnold hesitated no longer then. He came and stood by his visitor. +</p> +<p> +"Since you insist, then," he declared, "I will ask you the questions +which I should have asked your sister. That is what you desire?" +</p> +<p> +"Assuredly," Sabatini assented. +</p> +<p> +"First then, who killed Rosario?" +</p> +<p> +"There is a certain directness about your methods," Sabatini said +suavely, "which commends itself to me. <a name="Pg_287" id="Pg_287"></a>No one could mistake you for +anything but an Englishman." +</p> +<p> +"Tell me who killed Rosario!" Arnold repeated. +</p> +<p> +"As you will," Sabatini replied. "Rosario was murdered by a +Portuguese Jew—a man of the name of Isaac Lalonde." +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0031"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_288" id="Pg_288"></a>CHAPTER XXX +</h2> +<h3> + SOME QUESTIONS ANSWERED +</h3> +<p> +Arnold stood quite still for several moments. The shock seemed to +have deprived him even of the power of speech. Sabatini watched him +curiously. +</p> +<p> +"Is it my fancy," he inquired, "or is the name familiar to you?" +</p> +<p> +"The name is familiar," Arnold confessed. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini, for a moment, appeared to be puzzled. +</p> +<p> +"Lalonde," he repeated to himself. "Why, Lalonde," he added, looking +up quickly, "was the name of the young lady whom you brought with +you to Bourne End. An uncommon name, too." +</p> +<p> +"Her uncle," Arnold declared; "the same man, beyond a doubt. The +police tried to arrest him two days ago, and he escaped. You might +have read of it in the paper. It was spoken of as an attempt to +capture an anarchist. Lalonde fired at them when he made his +escape." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini sighed. +</p> +<p> +"It is a small world," he admitted. "I know all about Isaac Lalonde, +but I am very sorry indeed to hear that the young lady is connected +with him. She seemed—I hope you will forgive me—to speak as though +she lived in straitened circumstances. Do you <a name="Pg_289" id="Pg_289"></a>mind telling me +whether this event is likely to prove of inconvenience to her?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"I am making arrangements to find her another apartment," he said. +"We have been through some very dark times together. I feel that I +have the right to do everything that is necessary. I have no one +else to support." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini hesitated. +</p> +<p> +"If one might be permitted," he began, with what was, for him, a +considerable amount of diffidence,— +</p> +<p> +Arnold interposed a little brusquely. +</p> +<p> +"The care of Ruth Lalonde is upon my shoulders," he insisted. "There +can be no question about that. From me it is not charity, for she +shared her meals with me when I was practically starving. I am going +to ask you more questions." +</p> +<p> +"Proceed, by all means," Sabatini invited. +</p> +<p> +"Was Starling concerned at all in this Rosario affair?" +</p> +<p> +"Not directly," Sabatini admitted. +</p> +<p> +"Then why," Arnold demanded, "does he hide and behave like a +frightened child?" +</p> +<p> +"A pertinent question," Sabatini agreed. "You have to take into +account the man's constitutional cowardice. It is a fact, however, +that he was perfectly well aware of what was going to happen, and +there are circumstances connected with the affair—a document, for +instance, that we know to be in the hands of the police—which +account for their suspicions and would certainly tend to implicate +our friend Starling. It would be quite easy to make out a very +strong case against him." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_290" id="Pg_290"></a>"I do not understand," Arnold said, after a moment's silence, "what +interest Lalonde could have had in killing Rosario." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini contemplated for a few moments the tip of his patent shoe. +Then he sighed gently and lit a cigarette. +</p> +<p> +"For a young man," he remarked, "it is certain that you have a great +deal of curiosity. Still, you have also, I believe, discretion. +Listen, then. There is a certain country in the south of Europe +which all those who are behind the scenes know to be on the brink of +a revolution. The capital is already filled with newspaper +correspondents, the thunder mutters day by day. The army is unpaid +and full of discontent. For that reason, it is believed that their +spirit is entirely revolutionary. Every morning we who know expect +to read in the papers that the royal palace has been stormed and the +king become an exile. This was the state of things until about a +week ago. Did you read the papers on Thursday morning last?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"Perhaps," he replied. "I saw nothing that I can remember." +</p> +<p> +"That morning," Sabatini continued, "the morning of Rosario's death, +one read that the government of that country, which had vainly +applied for a loan to all the bankers of Europe with a view to +satisfying the claims of the army and navy, had at last succeeded in +arranging one through the intervention of Rosario. The paragraph was +probably inspired, but it spoke plainly, going so far, even, as to +say that the loan had probably averted a revolution. The man who had +saved the monarchy of an ancient nation was Rosario. One of his +<a name="Pg_291" id="Pg_291"></a>rewards, I think, was to have been a title and a distinguished +order; it was understood among us that this was the real bait. +Rosario's actual reward you know of." +</p> +<p> +"But where does Isaac Lalonde come in?" demanded Arnold. +</p> +<p> +"Isaac Lalonde is the London secretary of the revolutionary party of +the country of which I have been speaking. I think," he concluded, +"that your intelligence will make the rest clear." +</p> +<p> +Arnold struck the table on the edge of which he was sitting with the +palm of his hand. +</p> +<p> +"Look here," he asked hoarsely, "if you knew all these things, if +you knew that Isaac Lalonde had committed this murder, why do you go +about with your lips closed? Why haven't you told the truth? An +innocent man might be arrested at any time." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini smiled tolerantly. +</p> +<p> +"My dear fellow," he said, "why should I? Be reasonable! When you +reach my age you will find that silence is often best. As a matter +of fact, in this ease my sympathies are very much involved. It is in +the mind of many of those who hold the strings that when that +revolution does take place it will be I who shall lead it." +</p> +<p> +Arnold was again bewildered. +</p> +<p> +"But you," he protested, "are of the ancient nobility of +Europe. What place have you among a crowd of anarchists and +revolutionaries?" +</p> +<p> +"You jump at conclusions, my young friend," remarked Sabatini. "The +country of which we have spoken is my country, the country from +which, by an unjust decree I am exiled. There are among those <a name="Pg_292" id="Pg_292"></a>who +desire a change of government, many aristocrats. It is not only the +democracy whose hatred has been aroused by the selfish and brutal +methods of the reigning house." +</p> +<p> +Arnold got down from his table and walked to the window. The +telephone rang with some insignificant inquiry from a customer. The +incident somehow relieved him. It brought him back to the world of +every-day events. The reality of life once more obtruded itself upon +his conscience. All the time Sabatini lounged at his ease and +watched him, always with the faint beginning of a smile upon his +lips. +</p> +<p> +"What I have told you," the latter continued, after a few moments' +pause, "must not, during these days, pass beyond the four walls of +this singularly uninviting-looking apartment. I have nothing to add +or to take from what I have said. The subject is closed. If you have +more questions on any other subject, I have still a few minutes." +</p> +<p> +"Very well, then," Arnold said, coming back to his place, "let us +consider the Rosario matter disposed of. Let us go back for a moment +to Starling. Tell me why you and your sister saw danger to +yourselves in Starling's nervous breakdown? Tell me why, when I +returned to Pelham Lodge with her that night, she found a dead man +in her room, a man whose body was afterwards mysteriously removed?" +</p> +<p> +"Quite a spirited number of questions," Sabatini remarked. "Well, to +begin with, then, Rosario signed his death-warrant the moment he +wrote his name across the parchment which guaranteed the loan. On +the night when you first visited Pelham Lodge we heard the news. I +believe that Lalonde and his friends would <a name="Pg_293" id="Pg_293"></a>have killed him that +night if they could have got at him. Lalonde, however, was a person +of strange and inaccessible habits. He hated all aristocrats, and he +refused even to communicate with me. Speaking for myself, I was just +as determined as Isaac Lalonde that Rosario should never conclude +that loan. I told him so that night—Starling and I together. It was +thought necessary, by those whose word I am content to accept, that +what I had to say to Rosario should come through Starling. It was +Starling, therefore, who told him what his position would be if he +proceeded further. I must admit that the fellow showed courage. He +took a note of Starling's words, which he declared at the time +should be deposited in his safe, so that if anything should happen +to him, some evidence might be forthcoming. The police, without a +doubt, have been in possession of this document, and, curiously +enough, Starling was at the <i>Milan</i> that day. You will perceive, +therefore, that in the absence, even, of a reasonable alibi it might +be difficult to prove his innocence. To our surprise, however, for +we had some faith in the fellow, instead of taking this matter with +the indifference of a brave man, he has chosen to behave like a +child. In his present half maudlin state he would, I am afraid, if +in serious danger of conviction, make statements likely to cause a +good deal of inconvenience to myself, my sister's friends, and +others." +</p> +<p> +"Does he know himself who committed the murder?" Arnold asked. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini smiled. +</p> +<p> +"Perfectly well," he admitted, "but the fact helps him very little. +Isaac Lalonde is rather a notable figure among European criminals. +He belongs to a <a name="Pg_294" id="Pg_294"></a>company of anarchists, well-meaning but +bloodthirsty, who hold by one another to the death. If Starling, to +save himself, were to disclose the name of the real murderer, he +would simply make his exit from this life with a knife through his +heart instead of the hangman's rope about his neck. These fellows, I +believe, seldom commit crimes, but they are very much in earnest and +very dangerous. If you ever happen to meet one of them with a red +signet-ring upon his fourth finger, you can look out for trouble." +</p> +<p> +Arnold shivered for a moment. +</p> +<p> +"I have seen that ring," he murmured. +</p> +<p> +"You were a spectator of the tragedy, I remember," Sabatini agreed, +pleasantly. "Now are you quite satisfied about Starling?" +</p> +<p> +"I have heard all I want to about that," Arnold admitted. +</p> +<p> +"We come, then, to your last question," Sabatini said. "You demand +to know the meaning of the unfortunate incident which occurred in my +sister's boudoir. Here I think that I am really going to surprise +you." +</p> +<p> +"Nothing," Arnold declared, fervently, "could surprise me. However, +go on." +</p> +<p> +"Neither Fenella nor myself," Sabatini asserted, "have the slightest +idea as to how that man met with his death." +</p> +<p> +"But you know who he was?" Arnold asked. "You know why he was +watching your house, why he seems to have broken into it?" +</p> +<p> +"I can assure you," Sabatini repeated, "that not only am I ignorant +as to how the man met with his death, but I have no idea what he was +doing in the house at all. The night Rosario was there it was +different. <a name="Pg_295" id="Pg_295"></a>They were on his track then, without a doubt, and they +meant mischief. Since then, however, there has been a pronounced +difference of opinion between the two branches of the revolutionary +party—the one which I represent and the one which includes Lalonde +and his friends. The consequence is that although we may be said to +be working for the same ends, we have drawn a little apart. We have +had no communications whatever with Lalonde and his friends since +the murder of Rosario. Therefore, I can only repeat that I am +entirely in the dark as to what that man was doing in my sister's +rooms or how he met with his death. You must remember that these +fellows are all more or less criminals. Lalonde, I believe, is +something of an exception, but the rest of them are at war with +Society to the extent of enriching themselves at the expense of +their wealthier neighbors on every possible occasion. It is quite +likely that the night they were watching Rosario it may have +occurred to them that my sister's room contained a good many +valuable trifles and was easily entered, especially as they seem to +have had a meeting place close at hand. That, however, is pure +surmise. You follow me?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold sighed. +</p> +<p> +"In a way, I suppose I do," he admitted. "But—it isn't easy, is +it?" +</p> +<p> +"These matters are not easy," Sabatini agreed. "There are motives +and counter-motives to be taken note of with which at present I do +not weary you. I give you the clue. It is enough." +</p> +<p> +"But the mystery of the man's body being removed?" Arnold began. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini shrugged his shoulders. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_296" id="Pg_296"></a>"Our knowledge ends with what I have told you," he said. "We have +no idea who killed the man, and what we know about his removal we +know only from what you saw." +</p> +<p> +Arnold sat thinking for several moments. The telephone rang and some +one inquired for Mr. Weatherley. When he had answered it, he turned +once more to his visitor. +</p> +<p> +"Do you know," he remarked, "that nothing that you have yet told me +throws the slightest light upon the disappearance of Mr. +Weatherley?" +</p> +<p> +Sabatini smiled. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! well," he said, "I am afraid that as yet I have not fully +appreciated that incident. In France it is by no means unusual that +a man should take a hurried journey from his family. I, perhaps, +have not sufficiently taken into account Mr. Weatherley's exactness +and probity of life. His disappearance may, indeed, have a more +alarming significance than either my sister or I have been inclined +to give it, but let me assure you of this, my dear Chetwode, that +even if Mr. Weatherley has come to serious grief, neither Fenella +nor I can suggest the slightest explanation for it. She knows of no +reason for his absence. Neither do I. She is, however, just as +convinced as I am that he will turn up again, and before very long." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini pushed away his chair and prepared to leave. His hand fell +carelessly and yet almost affectionately upon the young man's +shoulder. +</p> +<p> +"Perhaps," he said, quietly, "I am what you are doubtless thinking +me—something of a <i>poseur</i>. Perhaps I do like making a tax upon +your sober British rectitude. I will admit that the spirit of +adventure is <a name="Pg_297" id="Pg_297"></a>in my heart; I will admit that there is in my blood +the desire to take from him who hath and give to him who hath not; +but, on the other hand, I have my standards, and I seriously do not +think that you would be risking very much if you accepted my +invitation to lunch to-day." +</p> +<p> +Arnold held out his hand. +</p> +<p> +"If I hesitate for a single moment," he replied frankly, "it is +because of my work here. However, as you say that Mrs. Weatherley +will be there, I will come." +</p> +<p> +"We shall look forward to the pleasure, then," Sabatini concluded. +"Now I will leave you to go on with your money-coining. Au revoir!" +</p> +<p> +He strolled gracefully out, pausing on his way through the clerk's +office to offer a courteous farewell to Mr. Jarvis. The great +automobile glided away. Arnold came back from the window and sat +down in front of his desk. Before his eyes was a pile of invoices, +in his brain a strange medley of facts and fancies. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis came bustling in. +</p> +<p> +"About those Canadian hams, Chetwode," he began,— +</p> +<p> +Arnold recognized the voice of his saviour. +</p> +<p> +"We'll go into the matter at once," he declared, briskly. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0032"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_298" id="Pg_298"></a>CHAPTER XXXI +</h2> +<h3> + A LUNCHEON-PARTY +</h3> +<p> +It seemed to Arnold that he had passed, indeed, into a different +world as he followed Count Sabatini's austere looking butler across +the white stone hall into the cool dining-room, where the little +party which he had come to join was already at luncheon. Outside, an +unexpected heat seemed to have baked the streets and drained the +very life from the air. Here the blinds were closely drawn; the +great height of the room with its plain, faultless decorations, its +piles of sweet-smelling flowers, and the faint breeze that came +through the Venetian blinds, made it like a little oasis of coolness +and repose. The luncheon-party consisted of four people—Count +Sabatini himself, Lady Blennington, Fenella, and a young man whom +Arnold had seen once before, attached to one of the Legations. +Fenella held out both her hands. +</p> +<p> +"I'm afraid I am late," Arnold said. +</p> +<p> +"It is my fault for not mentioning the hour," Sabatini interposed. +"We are continental in our tastes and we like to breakfast early." +</p> +<p> +"In any case, you would be forgiven," Fenella declared, "for this, +as you know, is our party of reconciliation." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_299" id="Pg_299"></a>"What, have you two been quarreling?" Lady Blennington exclaimed. +"You don't deserve to have admirers, Fenella. You always treat them +badly. How is it you've never been to see me, Mr. Chetwode?" +</p> +<p> +"Not because I have forgotten your kind invitation," Arnold replied, +taking the chair by Fenella's side which the butler was holding for +him. "Unfortunately, I am at work nearly every afternoon." +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Chetwode is my husband's secretary now, you must remember," +Fenella remarked, "and during his absence he naturally finds a great +deal to do." +</p> +<p> +"Well, I am sure I am only too glad," Lady Blennington said, "to +hear of a young man who does any work at all, nowadays. They mostly +seem to do nothing but hang about looking for a job. When you told +me," she continued, "that you were really in the city, I wasn't at +all sure that you were in earnest." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini sighed. +</p> +<p> +"I can assure you, Lady Blennington," he declared, "that so far as +my sex is represented here to-day, we are very strenuous people +indeed. Signor di Marito here carries upon his shoulders a burden, +just at the present moment, which few of the ambassadors would care +to have to deal with. Mr. Chetwode I have visited in his office, and +I can assure you that so far as his industry is concerned there is +no manner of doubt. As for myself—" +</p> +<p> +Lady Blennington interrupted gayly. +</p> +<p> +"Come," she said, "I believe it of these two others, if you insist, +but you are not going to ask us to believe that you, the +personification of idleness, are also among the toilers!" +</p> +<p> +Sabatini looked at her reproachfully. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_300" id="Pg_300"></a>"One is always misunderstood," he murmured. "This morning, as a +matter of fact, I have been occupied since daybreak." +</p> +<p> +"Let us hear all about it," Lady Blennington demanded. +</p> +<p> +"My energies have been directed into two channels," Sabatini +announced. "I have been making preparations for a possible journey, +and I have been trying to find a missing man." +</p> +<p> +Arnold looked up quickly. Fenella paused with her glass raised to +her lips. +</p> +<p> +"Who is the missing man?" Lady Blennington asked. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Weatherley," Sabatini replied. "We can scarcely call him that, +perhaps, but he has certainly gone off on a little expedition +without leaving his address." +</p> +<p> +"Well, you amaze me!" Lady Blennington exclaimed. "I never thought +that he was that sort of a husband." +</p> +<p> +"Did you make any discoveries?" asked Arnold. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"None," he confessed. "As an investigator I was a failure. However, +I must say that I prosecuted my inquiries in one direction only. It +may interest you to know that I have come to the conclusion that Mr. +Weatherley's disappearance is not connected in any way with the +matters of which we spoke this morning." +</p> +<p> +"Then it remains the more mysterious," declared Arnold. +</p> +<p> +"Fenella, at any rate, is not disposed to wear widow's weeds," +remarked Lady Blennington. "Cheer up, dear, <a name="Pg_301" id="Pg_301"></a>he'll come back all +right. Husbands always do. It is our other intimate friends who +desert us." +</p> +<p> +Fenella laughed. +</p> +<p> +"I am quite sure that you are right," she admitted. "I am not really +worried at all. It is a very annoying manner, however, in which to +go away, this,—a desertion most unceremonious. And now Andrea here +tells me that at any moment he may leave me, too." +</p> +<p> +They all looked at him. He inclined his head gravely. +</p> +<p> +"Nothing is decided," he said. "I have friends abroad who generally +let me know when things are stirring. There is a little cloud—it +may blow over or it may be the presage of a storm. In a day or two +we shall know." +</p> +<p> +"You men are to be envied," Lady Blennington sighed, speaking for a +moment more seriously. "You have the power always to roam. You +follow the music of the world wherever you will. The drum beats, you +pull up your stakes, and away you go. But for us poor women, alas! +there is never any pulling up of the stakes. We, too, hear the +music—perhaps we hear it oftener than you—but we may not follow." +</p> +<p> +"You have compensations," Sabatini remarked. +</p> +<p> +"We have compensations, of course," Lady Blennington admitted, "but +what do they amount to, after all?" +</p> +<p> +"You have also a different set of instincts," Signor di Marito +interposed. "There are other things in the life of a woman than to +listen always to the wander-music." +</p> +<p> +"The question is as old as the hills," Fenella declared, "and it +bores me. I want some more omelette. Really, <a name="Pg_302" id="Pg_302"></a>Andrea, your chef is a +treasure. If you get your summons, I think that I shall take him +over. Who will come to the theatre with me to-night? I have two +stalls for the <i>Gaiety</i>." +</p> +<p> +"I can't," Lady Blennington remarked. "I am going to a foolish +dinner-party, besides which, of course, you don't want to be +bothered with a woman." +</p> +<p> +"Nor can I," Sabatini echoed. "I have appointments all the evening." +</p> +<p> +"I, alas!" Signor di Marito sighed, "must not leave my post for one +single moment. These are no days for theatre-going for my poor +countrymen." +</p> +<p> +"Then the duty seems to devolve upon you," Fenella decided, smiling +toward Arnold. +</p> +<p> +"I am sorry," he replied, "but I, too, seem to be unfortunate. I +could not possibly get away from the city in time." +</p> +<p> +"Absurd!" she answered, a little sharply. "You are like a boy with a +new hobby. It is I who wish that you leave when you choose." +</p> +<p> +"Apart from that," Arnold continued, "I am sorry, but I have an +engagement for the evening." +</p> +<p> +She made a little grimace. +</p> +<p> +"With your invalid friend?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold assented. +</p> +<p> +"I should not like to leave her alone this evening. She has been in +a great deal of trouble lately." +</p> +<p> +There was a moment's silence. A slight frown had gathered on +Fenella's forehead. +</p> +<p> +"I noticed that she was dressed wholly in black," she remarked. +"Perhaps she is in trouble because she has lost a relative lately?" +</p> +<p> +"She appears to have no relatives in the world," <a name="Pg_303" id="Pg_303"></a>Arnold declared, +"except an uncle, and he, I am afraid, is a little worse than +useless to her." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini, who had been listening, leaned a little forward. +</p> +<p> +"She lives entirely alone with the uncle of whom you have spoken?" +he asked. +</p> +<p> +"Up till yesterday she has done so," Arnold answered gravely. "Just +at present, as you know, he has gone away. I only wish that I could +find him." +</p> +<p> +"Going away, as you put it," Fenella murmured, "seems to be rather +the fashion just now." +</p> +<p> +Arnold glanced up quickly but her expression was entirely innocent. +He looked across the table, however, and found that Sabatini was +watching him pensively. Fenella leaned towards him. She spoke almost +in a whisper, but her tone was cold, almost unfriendly. +</p> +<p> +"I think," she said, "that with regard to that young woman you carry +chivalry too far." +</p> +<p> +Arnold flushed slightly. Then Sabatini, with a little murmur of +words, changed the conversation. Once more it became entirely +general, and presently the meal drew towards a pleasant termination. +Fenella and Lady Blennington left together. At the moment of +departure, the former turned towards Arnold. +</p> +<p> +"So I cannot induce you to become my escort for to-night?" she +asked. +</p> +<p> +There was appeal, half humorous, half pathetic in her eyes. Arnold +hesitated, but only for a moment. +</p> +<p> +"I am sorry," he said, "but indeed I shall not be able to leave the +office until after the time for the theatre." +</p> +<p> +"You will not obey my orders about the office?" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_304" id="Pg_304"></a>"I could not, in any case, leave Ruth alone this evening," he +replied. +</p> +<p> +She turned away from him. The little gesture with which she refused +to see his hand seemed to be one of dismissal. +</p> +<p> +"Signor di Marito, you will take us to the automobile, will you +not?" she said. "Perhaps we can drop you somewhere? Good-bye, +Andrea, and thank you very much for your charming luncheon. If the +message comes, you will telephone, I know?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold lingered behind while Sabatini showed his guests to the door. +When he, too, would have left, however, his host motioned him to +resume his chair. +</p> +<p> +"Sit down for a few minutes," he begged. "You have probably seen +enough of me for to-day, but I may be called away from England at +any moment and there is a question I want to ask you before I go." +</p> +<p> +Arnold nodded. +</p> +<p> +"You are really in earnest, then, about leaving?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"Assuredly," Sabatini replied. "I cannot tell you exactly how things +may go in my country, but if there is a rising against the reigning +house, a Sabatini will certainly be there. I have had some +experience in soldiering, and I have a following. It is true that I +am an exile, but I feel that my place is somewhere near the +frontier." +</p> +<p> +Arnold glanced enviously at the man who lounged in the chair +opposite him. He seemed to carry even about his person a flavor from +the far-off land of adventures. +</p> +<p> +"What I want to ask you is this," Sabatini said. "A few minutes ago +you declared that you were anxious to <a name="Pg_305" id="Pg_305"></a>discover the whereabouts of +your little friend's uncle. Tell me why?" +</p> +<p> +"I will tell you, with pleasure," Arnold answered. "You see, she is +left absolutely alone in the world. I do not grumble at the charge +of her, for when I was nearly starving she was kind to me, and we +passed our darkest days together. On the other hand, I know that she +feels it keenly, and I think it is only right to try and find out if +she has no relatives or friends who could possibly look after her." +</p> +<p> +"It is perfectly reasonable," Sabatini confessed. "I can tell you +where to find Isaac Lalonde, if you wish." +</p> +<p> +Arnold's little exclamation was one almost of dismay. +</p> +<p> +"You know?" he cried. +</p> +<p> +"Naturally," Sabatini admitted. "You have a tender conscience, my +young friend, and a very limited knowledge of the great necessities +of the world. You think that a man like Isaac Lalonde has no real +place in a wholesome state of society. You have some reason in what +you think, but you are not altogether right. In any case, this is +the truth. However much it may horrify you to know it, and +notwithstanding our recent differences of opinion, communications +have frequently taken place between the committee who are organizing +the outbreak in Portugal, among which you may number me, and the +extreme anarchists whom Isaac represents." +</p> +<p> +"You would not really accept aid from such?" Arnold exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini smiled tolerantly. +</p> +<p> +"There are many unworthy materials," he said, "which go to the +building of a great structure. Youth rebels at their use but age and +experience recognize their necessity. The anarchist of your +halfpenny papers <a name="Pg_306" id="Pg_306"></a>and <i>Police News</i> is not always the bloodthirsty +ruffian that you who read them are led to suppose. Very often he is +a man who strenuously seeks to see the light. It is not always his +fault if the way which is shown him to freedom must cross the rivers +of blood." +</p> +<p> +Arnold moved uneasily in his chair. His host spoke with such quiet +conviction that the stock arguments which rose to his lips seemed +somehow curiously ineffective. +</p> +<p> +"Nevertheless," he protested, "the philosophy of revolutions—" +</p> +<p> +"We will not discuss it," Sabatini declared, with a smile. "You and +I need not waste our time in academic discussion. These things are +beside the mark. What I had to say to you is this. If you really +wish to speak with Isaac Lalonde, and will give me your word to keep +the knowledge of him to yourself, I can tell you where to find him." +</p> +<p> +"I do wish to speak to him for the reasons I have told you," Arnold +replied. "If he were to disappear from the face of the earth, as +seems extremely probable at the present moment, Ruth would be left +without a friend in the world except myself." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini wrote an address upon a slip of paper. +</p> +<p> +"You will find him there," he announced. "Go slowly, for the +neighborhood is dangerous. Can I drop you anywhere?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"Thank you," he said, "I must go straight back to the office. I will +take the tube from the corner." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini escorted his guest to the door. As they stood there +together, looking down into the quiet street, he laid his hand upon +the young man's shoulder. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_307" id="Pg_307"></a>"I will not say good-bye," he declared, "because, although I am +here waiting all the time, I do not believe that the hour has come +for me to go. It will be soon but not just yet. When we first met, I +thought that I should like to take you with me. I thought that the +life in what will become practically a new country, would appeal to +you. Since then I have changed my mind. I have thought of my own +career, and I have seen that it is not the life or career for a +young man to follow. The adventures of the worker in the cities are +a little grayer, perhaps, than those which come to the man who is +born a wanderer, but they lead home just as surely—perhaps more +safely. Au revoir!" +</p> +<p> +He turned away abruptly. The door was softly closed. Arnold went +down the steps and set his face citywards. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0033"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_308" id="Pg_308"></a>CHAPTER XXXII +</h2> +<h3> + ISAAC IN HIDING +</h3> +<p> +Arnold, as he neared the end of his journey, felt, indeed, that he +had found his way into some alien world. The streets through which, +after many directions, he had passed, had all been strange to him, +strange not only because of their narrowness, their poverty, their +ill flavor, but on account, also, of the foreign names above the +shops, the street cries, and the dark, unfamiliar aspects of the +people. After losing his way more than once, he discovered at last a +short street branching out of a narrow but populous thoroughfare. +There were no visible numbers, but counting the houses on the +left-hand side, and finding the door of the seventh open, he made +his way inside. The place was silent and seemed deserted. He climbed +the stairs to the second story and knocked at the door of the front +room. So far, although barely a hundred yards away was a street +teeming with human beings, he had not seen a soul in the place. +</p> +<p> +His first knock remained unanswered. He tried again. This time he +heard a movement inside which he construed as an invitation to +enter. He threw open the door and stepped in. The blind was closely +drawn, and <a name="Pg_309" id="Pg_309"></a>to his eyes, unaccustomed to the gloom, there seemed to +be no one in the place. Suddenly the fire of an electric torch +flashed into his eyes, a familiar voice from a distant corner +addressed him. +</p> +<p> +"What the devil are you doing here?" +</p> +<p> +The light was as suddenly turned off. Arnold could see now that the +man whom he had come to visit had barricaded himself behind an +upturned table in a distant corner of the room. +</p> +<p> +"I want a word or two with you, Isaac," Arnold said. +</p> +<p> +"Who told you where to find me?" +</p> +<p> +"Count Sabatini." +</p> +<p> +"Have you told any one else?" +</p> +<p> +"No!" +</p> +<p> +"Are you alone?" +</p> +<p> +"Absolutely." +</p> +<p> +Isaac came slowly out into the room. His appearance, if possible, +was a little more ghastly even than when Arnold had seen him last. +He was unshaven, and his eyes shone with the furtiveness of some +hunted animal. In his hand he was holding a murderous-looking +pistol. +</p> +<p> +"Say what you want—be quick—and get away," Isaac muttered. "I am +not here to receive visitors—not your sort, any way. You understand +that?" +</p> +<p> +"You seem to be prepared to receive some one in a most unpleasant +manner," Arnold said gravely. "Is that sort of thing worth while, +Isaac?" +</p> +<p> +"Worth while!" +</p> +<p> +There was a brief pause. Arnold, having asked his question, was +looking at his companion, half in horror, half in pity. Isaac, white +with passion, seemed unable for the moment to make any intelligible +reply. Then, drawing in his breath as though with an effort, he +walked <a name="Pg_310" id="Pg_310"></a>past Arnold and stood for a moment on the threshold of the +door, listening intently. Satisfied, apparently, that there was +nothing to be heard save the usual street noises, he closed the door +softly and came back into the room. +</p> +<p> +"You," he said to Arnold, "are one of the clods of the earth, to +whom it is not given to understand. You are one of those who would +fall before the carriages of the rich and hold out your hands for +their alms. You are one of those who could weep and weep and watch +the children die, wringing your hands, while the greedy ones of the +world stuff themselves at their costly restaurants. The world is +full of such as you. It is full, too, of many like myself, in whose +blood the fever burns, into whose brain the knowledge of things has +entered, in whose heart the seared iron burns." +</p> +<p> +"That's all right for Hyde Park," Arnold declared, bluntly, "but do +you imagine you are going to help straighten the world by this sort +of thing?" +</p> +<p> +"In my way, I am," Isaac snarled. "What do you know of it, you +smooth-faced, healthy young animal, comfortably born, comfortably +bred, falling always on your feet in comfortable fashion, with the +poison of comfort in your veins? You look at my pistol as an evil +thing, because it can spell the difference between life and death. I +will tell you what it represents to me. It represents my rebellion +and the rebellion of my class against what you choose to call here +law and order. Law and order are good enough things, but they have +become the tools with which the smug rich keep themselves in luxury +in the fat places of the world, while millions of others, gripping +vainly at the outside of life, fall off into the bottomless chasm." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_311" id="Pg_311"></a>"It's the wrong method, Isaac," Arnold insisted, earnestly. +</p> +<p> +Isaac threw out his hand—a little gesture, half of contempt, not +altogether without its touch of dignity. +</p> +<p> +"This isn't any place for words," he said, "nor is it given to you +to be the champion of your class. Let me alone. Speak your errand +and be gone! No one can tell when the end may come. It will be +better for you, when it does, that you are not here." +</p> +<p> +"I have come on account of your niece, whom you left penniless and +homeless," Arnold said sternly. "With your immense sympathy for +others, perhaps you can explain this little act of inattention on +your part?" +</p> +<p> +Isaac's start of surprise was genuine enough. +</p> +<p> +"I had forgotten her," he admitted curtly. "I saw the red fires that +night and since then there has been no moment to breathe or +think—nothing to do but get ready for the end. I had forgotten +her." +</p> +<p> +"She is safe, for the present," Arnold told him. "My circumstances +have improved and I have taken a small flat in which there is a room +for her. This may do for the present, but Ruth, after all, is a +young woman. She is morbidly sensitive. However willing I may be, +and I am willing, it is not right that she should remain with me. I +have always taken it for granted that save for you she has no +relatives and no friends. Is this the truth? Is there no one whom +she has the right to ask for a home?" +</p> +<p> +Isaac was silent. Some movements in the street below disturbed him, +and he walked with catlike tread to the window, peering through a +hole in the <a name="Pg_312" id="Pg_312"></a>blind for several moments. When he was satisfied that +nothing unusual was transpiring, he came back. +</p> +<p> +"Listen," he said hoarsely, "I am a dead man already in all but +facts. I can tell you nothing of Ruth's relatives. Better that she +starved upon the streets than found them. But there is her chance +still. My mind has been filled with big things and I had forgotten +it. Before we moved into Adam Street, the last doctor who saw Ruth +suggested an operation. He felt sure that it would be successful. It +was to cost forty guineas. I have saved very nearly the whole of +that money. It stands in her name at the Westminster Savings Bank. +If she goes there and proves her identity, she can get it. I saved +that money—God knows how!" +</p> +<p> +"What is the name of the doctor?" Arnold asked. +</p> +<p> +"His name was Heskell and he was at the London Hospital," Isaac +replied. "Now I have done with you. That is Ruth's chance—there is +nothing else I can do. Be off as quickly as you can. If you give +information as to my whereabouts, you will probably pay for it with +your life, for there are others besides myself who are hiding in +this house. Now go. Do you hear?" +</p> +<p> +Arnold's anger against the man suddenly faded away. It seemed to +him, as he stood there, that he was but a product of the times, +fashioned by the grinding wheel of circumstance, a physical wreck, a +creature without love or life or hope. +</p> +<p> +"Isaac," he said, "why don't you try and escape? Get away to some +other country, out onto the land somewhere. Leave the wrongs of +these others to come <a name="Pg_313" id="Pg_313"></a>right with time. Work for your daily bread, +give your brain a rest." +</p> +<p> +Isaac made no reply. Only his long, skinny forefinger shot out +toward the door. Arnold knew that he might just as well have been +talking to the most hopeless lunatic ever confined in padded room. +</p> +<p> +"If this is to be farewell, Isaac," he continued, "let me at least +tell you this before I go. You are doing Ruth a cruel wrong. God +knows I am willing enough to take charge of her, but it's none the +less a brutal position for you to put her in. You have the chance, +if you will, to set her free. Think what her life has been up till +now. Have you ever thought of it, I wonder? Have you ever thought of +the long days she has spent in that attic when you have been away, +without books, with barely enough to eat, without companionship or +friends? These are the things to which you have doomed her by your +cursed selfishness. If she has friends who could take her away, and +you refuse to speak, then all I can say is that you deserve any fate +that may come to you." +</p> +<p> +Isaac remained silent for several moments. His face was dark and +dogged. When he spoke, it was with reluctance. +</p> +<p> +"Young man," he said, "every word which you have spoken has been in +my brain while I have lain here waiting for the end. A few hours ago +I slept and had a dream. When I awoke, I was weak. See here." +</p> +<p> +He drew from his pocket two sheets of closely-written foolscap. +</p> +<p> +"The story of Ruth's life is here," he declared. "I wrote it with a +stump of pencil on the back of this table. <a name="Pg_314" id="Pg_314"></a>I wrote it, but I have +changed my mind, and I am going to tear it up." +</p> +<p> +Arnold was light on his feet, with a great reach, and Isaac was +unprepared. In a moment the latter was on his back, and the soiled +sheets of foolscap were in Arnold's pocket. Isaac's fingers seemed +to hover upon the trigger of his pistol as he lay there, crouched +against the wall. +</p> +<p> +"Don't be a fool!" Arnold cried, roughly. "You'll do no good by +killing me. The girl has a right to her chance." +</p> +<p> +There were several seconds of breathless silence, during which it +seemed to Arnold that Isaac had made up and changed his mind more +than once. Then at last he lowered his pistol. +</p> +<p> +"We'll call it chance," he muttered. "I never meant to write the +rubbish. Since you have got it, though, it is the truth. Do with it +what you will. There is one thing more. You know this man Sabatini?" +</p> +<p> +"If you mean the Count Sabatini, it was he who gave me your +address," Arnold reminded him. +</p> +<p> +Isaac smiled grimly. +</p> +<p> +"Citizen Sabatini is all we know him by here. He knows well that to +a man with his aspirations, a man who desires to use as his tools +such as myself and my comrades, a title is an evil recommendation. +He came to us first, as a man and a brother,—he, Count Sabatini, +Marquis de Lossa, Chevalier de St. Jerome, Knight of the Holy Roman +Empire,—an aristocrat, you perceive, and one of the worst. Yet we +have trusted him." +</p> +<p> +"I do not believe," Arnold exclaimed, "that Sabatini would betray +any one!" +</p> +<p> +"I am not accusing him," Isaac said solemnly. "I <a name="Pg_315" id="Pg_315"></a>simply hold that +he is not the man to lead a great revolutionary movement. It is for +that reason, among others, that I have rejected his advances. +Sabatini as president would mean very much the same thing as a king. +Will you give him a message from me?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes," Arnold answered, "I will do that." +</p> +<p> +"Tell him, if indeed he has the courage which fame has bestowed upon +him, to come here and bid me farewell. I have certain things to say +to him." +</p> +<p> +"I will give him your message," Arnold promised, "but I shall not +advise him to come." +</p> +<p> +A look of anger flashed in Isaac's face. The pistol which had never +left his grip was slowly raised, only to be lowered again. +</p> +<p> +"Do as I say," he repeated. "Tell him to come. Perhaps I may have +more to say to him about that other matter than I choose to say to +you." +</p> +<p> +"About Ruth?" +</p> +<p> +"About Ruth," Isaac repeated, sternly. +</p> +<p> +"You would trust a stranger," Arnold exclaimed, "with information +which you deny me—her friend?" +</p> +<p> +Isaac waved him away. +</p> +<p> +"Be off," he said, tersely. "I have queer humors sometimes lying +here waiting for the end. Don't let it be your fate to excite one of +them. You have had your escape." +</p> +<p> +"What do you mean?" Arnold demanded. +</p> +<p> +Isaac laughed hoarsely. +</p> +<p> +"How many nights ago was it," he asked, "that you threw up a window +in the man Weatherley's house—the night Morris and I were there, +seeking for Rosario?" +</p> +<p> +"I never saw you!" Arnold exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +"No, but you saw Morris," Isaac continued. "What <a name="Pg_316" id="Pg_316"></a>is more, you saw +him again on the stairs with me that night, and it very nearly cost +you your life. Lucky for you, young man, that you were not at +Hampstead the night when Morris went there to seek for you!" +</p> +<p> +Arnold was speechless. +</p> +<p> +"You mean that he was there that night looking for me?" he cried. +</p> +<p> +"He hated you all," Isaac muttered, "you and the woman and Sabatini, +and he was a little mad—just a little mad. If he had found you all +there—" +</p> +<p> +"Well?" Arnold interposed, breathlessly. +</p> +<p> +Isaac shook his head. +</p> +<p> +"Never mind!" +</p> +<p> +"But I do mind," Arnold insisted. "I want to know about that night. +Was it in search of us—" +</p> +<p> +Isaac held out his skinny hand. There was a dangerous glitter in his +eyes. +</p> +<p> +"It is enough," he snarled. "I have no more to say about what is +past. Send me Sabatini and he shall hear news from me." +</p> +<p> +Arnold retreated slowly towards the threshold. +</p> +<p> +"If you will take the advice of a sane man," he said, "you will +throw that thing away and escape. If I can help—" +</p> +<p> +Isaac was already creeping to his hiding-place. He turned around +with a contemptuous gesture. +</p> +<p> +"There is no escape for me," he declared. "Every day the police draw +their circle closer. So much the better! When they come, they will +find me prepared! If you are still here in sixty seconds," he added, +"I will treat you as I shall treat them." +</p> +<p> +Arnold closed the door and made his way into the street. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0034"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_317" id="Pg_317"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII +</h2> +<h3> + SABATINI'S DAUGHTER +</h3> +<p> +Sabatini, already dressed for the evening, his coat upon his arm, +paused only to light a cigarette and read once more the telegram +which he held between his fingers, before he left his house to step +into the automobile which was waiting outside. His servant entered +the room with his silk hat. +</p> +<p> +"You will remember carefully my instructions, Pietro?" he said. +</p> +<p> +"Assuredly, sir," the man answered. +</p> +<p> +"If there is a telegram, any communication from the Embassy, or +telephone message, you will bring it to me yourself, at once, at +number 17, Grosvenor Square. If any one should call to see me, you +know exactly where I am to be found." +</p> +<p> +"There is a young gentleman here now, sir," the man announced. "He +has just arrived." +</p> +<p> +"The young gentleman who was here before, to-day?" Sabatini asked. +</p> +<p> +"The same, Excellency." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini laid down his coat. +</p> +<p> +"You can show him in," he directed. "Wait for me outside." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_318" id="Pg_318"></a>Arnold, who had come straight from the unknown world in which he +had found Isaac, was shown in immediately. Pietro closed the door +and withdrew. Sabatini looked inquiringly at his visitor. +</p> +<p> +"You have seen Isaac?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"I have seen him," Arnold assented. +</p> +<p> +"You bring me news?" +</p> +<p> +"It is true," Arnold replied. "I bring news." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini waited patiently. Arnold remained, for a moment, gloomily +silent. It was hard to know how to commence. +</p> +<p> +"You will forgive my reminding you," Sabatini said quietly, "that I +am on the point of starting out to keep an engagement. I would not +mention it but in one respect London hostesses are exacting. There +are many liberties which are permitted here, but one must not be +late for dinner." +</p> +<p> +Arnold's memory flashed back to the scene which he had just left—to +Isaac, the outcast, crouched beneath his barricade of furniture, +waiting in the darkness with his loaded pistol and murder in his +heart. Sabatini, calm and dignified in his rigidly correct evening +dress, his grace and good-looks, represented with curious +appositeness the other extreme of life. +</p> +<p> +"I will not keep you long," Arnold began, "but there is something +which you must hear from me, and hear at once." +</p> +<p> +"Assuredly," Sabatini murmured. "It is something connected with your +visit to this poor, misguided outcast. I am afraid there is nothing +we can do for him." +</p> +<p> +"There is nothing any one can do for him," Arnold declared. "I went +to see him because, when he fled from his rooms and they were seized +by the police, his niece <a name="Pg_319" id="Pg_319"></a>was left penniless and homeless. +Fortunately, the change in my own circumstances permitted me to +offer her a shelter—for the moment, at any rate. I have told you +something of this before but I am obliged to repeat it. You will +understand presently. It is of some importance." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini bowed. +</p> +<p> +"The young lady is still under your care?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"She is still with me," Arnold admitted. "I took two rooms not very +far away from here. I did it because it was the only thing to do, +but I can see now that as a permanent arrangement it will not +answer. Already, even, a shadow seems to have sprung up between us. +I am beginning to understand what it is. I have always looked upon +Ruth as being somewhat different from other women because of her +infirmity. It is dawning upon me now that, after all, the infirmity +counts for little. She is a woman, with a woman's sensibility and +all that goes with it. It troubles her to be living alone with me." +</p> +<p> +A shadow of perplexity passed across Sabatini's face. This young man +was very much in earnest and spoke as though he had good reasons for +these explanations, yet the reasons themselves were not obvious and +the minutes were passing. +</p> +<p> +"She seemed to me," he murmured, "to be a very charming and +distinguished young lady." +</p> +<p> +"I am glad to hear you say so," Arnold declared. "To-day I went to +Isaac that he might tell me whether there were not some relatives of +hers in the world to whom she could apply for help and shelter. I +pointed out that he had left Ruth alone and penniless; that although +the charge of her was nothing but a pleasure to <a name="Pg_320" id="Pg_320"></a>me, it was not +fitting that I should undertake it. I insisted upon his telling me +the name of at least one of her relatives, so that I might let them +know of her existence and beg for a home for her." +</p> +<p> +"It was a reasonable request," Sabatini remarked. "I trust that the +fellow recognized the situation?" +</p> +<p> +"He had already written out Ruth's history," Arnold said, his voice +shaking a little. "He had written it out in pencil on a couple of +sheets of foolscap. He gave them to me to bring away with me. I read +them coming up. I am here now to repeat their purport to you." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini gave a little nod of interest. His glance at the clock was +apologetic. He had thrown his overcoat once more upon his arm, and, +with his white-gloved hand resting upon the back of a chair, stood +listening in an attitude of courteous ease. +</p> +<p> +"I shall be glad to hear the story," he said. "I must admit that +although I only met the young lady for those few minutes at Bourne +End, I found myself most interested in her. I feel sure that she is +charming in every way. Please go on." +</p> +<p> +"If Isaac's story is true," Arnold continued slowly, "you should +indeed be interested in her." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini's eyebrows were slightly raised. +</p> +<p> +"I scarcely understand," he murmured. "I—pray go on." +</p> +<p> +"According to his story," Arnold said, "Ruth Lalonde is your +daughter." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini stood perfectly motionless. The slight expression of tired +attention with which he had been listening, had faded from his face. +In the late sunshine which still filled the room, there was +something almost corpse-like <a name="Pg_321" id="Pg_321"></a>in the pallor of his cheeks, his +unnatural silence. When he spoke, his words came slowly. +</p> +<p> +"Is this a jest?" +</p> +<p> +"Isaac's story is that you married her mother, who was his sister, +in Paris, nineteen and a half years ago. Her name was Cécile Ruth +Leneveu, and she was acting at one of the theatres. She was really +Isaac's half-sister. His father had brought him from Paris when he +was only a child, and married again almost at once. According to his +story, Ruth's mother lived with you for two years—until, in fact, +you went to Chili to take command of the troops there, at the time +of the revolution. When you returned, she was dead. You were told +that she had given birth to a daughter and that she, too, had died." +</p> +<p> +"That is true," Sabatini admitted slowly. "I came back because of +her illness, but I was too late." +</p> +<p> +"The child did not die," Arnold continued. "She was brought up by +Isaac in a small convent near Rouen, where she remained until two +years ago, when he was forced to come to England. He brought her +with him as, owing to her accident, she was unable to take the post +of teacher for which she had been intended, and the convent where +she was living was unexpectedly broken up. Since then she has lived +a sad life with him in London. His has been simply a hand-to-mouth +existence." +</p> +<p> +"But I do not understand why I was kept in ignorance," Sabatini +declared. "Why did he not appeal to me for help? Why was my +daughter's existence kept a secret from me?" +</p> +<p> +"Because Isaac is half a fanatic and half a madman," Arnold replied. +"You represent to him the class he <a name="Pg_322" id="Pg_322"></a>loathes, the class he has hated +all his life, and against which he has waged ceaseless war. He hated +your marriage to his sister, and his feelings were the more +embittered because it suited you to keep it private. He has nursed a +bitter feeling against you all his life for this reason." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini turned stiffly away. He walked to the window, standing for +a moment or two with his back to Arnold, looking out into the quiet +street. Then he came back. +</p> +<p> +"I must go to this man at once," he said. "You can take me there?" +</p> +<p> +"I can take you," Arnold assented, doubtfully, "and I have even a +message from him asking you to visit him, but I warn you that he is +in a dangerous mood. I found him the solitary occupant of a +miserable room in the back street of a quarter of London which +reminded me more than anything else of some foreign city. He has +cleared the furniture from the room, reared a table up on end, and +is crouching behind it with a Mauser pistol in his hand and a box of +cartridges by his side. My own belief is that he is insane." +</p> +<p> +"It is of no account, that," Sabatini declared. "One moment." +</p> +<p> +He touched the bell for his servant, who entered almost immediately. +</p> +<p> +"You will take a cab to 17, Grosvenor Square, Pietro," he directed. +"Present my compliments to the lady of the house, and tell her that +an occurrence of the deepest importance deprives me of the honor of +dining to-night." +</p> +<p> +"Very good, your Excellency." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini turned to Arnold. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_323" id="Pg_323"></a>"Come," he said simply, "my automobile is waiting. Will you direct +the man?" +</p> +<p> +They started off citywards. Sabatini, for a time, sat like a man in +a dream, and Arnold, respecting his companion's mood, kept silent. +There seemed to be something unreal about their progress. To Arnold, +with this man by his side, the amazing story which he had gathered +from those ill-written pages, with their abrupt words and brutal +cynicism, still ringing in his brain, their errand seemed like some +phantasmal thing. The familiar streets bore a different aspect; the +faces of the people whom they passed struck him always with a +curious note of unreality. Ruth was Sabatini's daughter! His brain +refused to grasp so amazing a fact. Yet curiously enough, as he +leaned back among the cushions, the likeness was there. The turn of +the lips, the high forehead, the flawless delicacy of her oval face, +in the light of this new knowledge were all startlingly reminiscent +of the man who sat by his side now in a grim, unbroken silence. The +wonder of it all remained unabated, but his sense of apprehension +grew. +</p> +<p> +Presently Sabatini began to talk, rousing himself as though with an +effort, and asking questions concerning Ruth, about her accident, +her tastes. He heard of the days of her poverty with a little +shiver. Arnold touched lightly upon these, realizing how much his +companion was suffering. Their progress grew slower and slower as +they passed into the heart of this strange land, down the narrow yet +busy thoroughfare which seemed to be the main artery of the +neighborhood. Strange names were above the shop-windows, strange +articles were displayed behind them. Stalls were set out in the +streets. Men and women, driven by the sulphurous heat to seek <a name="Pg_324" id="Pg_324"></a>air, +leaned half-dressed from the windows, or sat even upon the pavement +in front of their houses. More than once they were obliged to come +to a standstill owing to the throngs of loiterers. As they neared +the last corner, Arnold leaned out and his heart sank. In front he +could see the crowd kept back by a line of police. +</p> +<p> +"We are too late!" he exclaimed. "They have found him! They must be +making the arrest even now!" +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0035"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_325" id="Pg_325"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV +</h2> +<h3> + CLOSE TO TRAGEDY +</h3> +<p> +The two men stood up in the automobile. Sabatini's face had +darkened. He leaned over and said something to the chauffeur. They +drove on through the press of people, who gave way sullenly. A +police inspector came to the side of the car. +</p> +<p> +"This way is blocked for the present, sir," he said to Sabatini. "If +you want to get past, you had better take one of the turnings to the +left." +</p> +<p> +"My destination is just here," Sabatini replied. "Tell me, what is +the cause of this disturbance?" +</p> +<p> +"Some of our men have gone to make an arrest in the street there, +sir," the inspector replied, "and we are having some trouble." +</p> +<p> +"Is it the man Isaac Lalonde whom you are after?" Sabatini asked. +</p> +<p> +"That is so, sir," the inspector admitted. "A desperate scoundrel he +is, too. He's shot at and wounded all three of the policemen who +entered the house, and he lies crouching before the window, +threatening to shoot any one who passes up the street." +</p> +<p> +"Who is in charge here?" Sabatini inquired. +</p> +<p> +"Chief Inspector Raynham," the man replied, pointing<a name="Pg_326" id="Pg_326"></a> to an officer +in plain uniform who was standing a few yards away. +</p> +<p> +"Take me to him," Sabatini directed. "I may be of use in this +matter." +</p> +<p> +The crowd opened to let them pass through. They were on the corner +of the pavement now, and the street to their right was empty. There +was a disposition on the part of the people to hug the wall and peer +only round the corner, for they were within easy range of the grimy +window opposite. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Inspector," Sabatini said, "I am Count Sabatini, a nobleman of +the country from which that man comes. I think, perhaps, that if you +will allow me to make the effort he will listen to me. I may be able +to save the loss of useful lives." +</p> +<p> +The chief inspector saluted. +</p> +<p> +"I shouldn't recommend you to go near him, sir," he declared. "They +say he's an out-and-out anarchist, the leader of one of the most +dangerous gangs in London. We've got the back of the house covered +and he can't escape, but he's shot three of our men who tried to get +at him. The chief of police is on his way down, and we are waiting +for instructions from him." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini's lips parted in the faintest of smiles. One could well +have imagined that he would have devised some prompter means to have +secured this man if he had been in command. +</p> +<p> +"You will not forbid my making the attempt, I trust?" he said, +courteously. "I do so at my own risk, of course." +</p> +<p> +The inspector hesitated. Sabatini, with a sudden swing of his +powerful arm, made his way into the front rank. Arnold clutched at +him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_327" id="Pg_327"></a>"Don't go," he begged. "It isn't worth while. You hear, he has shot +three policemen already. You can't save him—you can't help him." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini turned round with an air of gentle superiority. +</p> +<p> +"My young friend," he said, "do you not understand that Isaac will +not be taken alive? There is a question I must ask him before he +dies." +</p> +<p> +The inspector stepped forward—afterwards he said that it was for +the purpose of stopping Sabatini. He was too late, however. The +crowd thronging the end of the street, and the hundreds of people +who peered from the windows, had a moment of wonderful excitement. +One could almost hear the thrill which stirred from their throats. +Across the empty street, straight towards the window behind which +the doomed man lay, Sabatini walked, strangest of figures amidst +those sordid surroundings, in his evening clothes, thin black +overcoat, and glossy silk hat. Step by step he approached the door. +He was about three yards from the curbstone when the window behind +which Isaac was crouching was suddenly smashed, and Isaac leaned +out. The crowd, listening intently, could hear the crash of falling +glass upon the pavement. They had their view of Isaac, too—a wan, +ghostlike figure, with haggard cheeks and staring eyes, eyes which +blazed out from between the strands of black hair. +</p> +<p> +"Stand where you are," he shouted, and the people who watched saw +the glitter of the setting sun upon the pistol in his hand. Sabatini +looked up. +</p> +<p> +"Isaac Lalonde," he called out, "you know who I am?" +</p> +<p> +"I know who you are," they heard him growl,—"Count <a name="Pg_328" id="Pg_328"></a>Sabatini, +Marquis de Lossa, Chevalier de St. Jerome, Knight of the Holy Roman +Empire, aristocrat, blood-sucker of the people." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini shrugged his shoulders slightly. +</p> +<p> +"As to that," he answered firmly, "one may have opinions. My hand at +least is free from bloodshed. You are there with nothing but death +before you. I am here to ask a question." +</p> +<p> +"Ask it, then," the man at the window muttered. "Can't you see that +the time is short?" +</p> +<p> +"Is it true, this message which you sent me by that young man? Is it +my daughter, the child of Cécile, whom you have kept from me all +these years?" +</p> +<p> +Isaac leaned further forward out of the window. Every one in the +crowd could see him now. There were a few who began to shout. Every +one save Sabatini himself seemed conscious of his danger. Sabatini, +heedless or unconscious of it, stood with one foot upon the +curbstone, his face upturned to the man with whom he was talking. +</p> +<p> +"Ay, it is true!" Isaac shouted. "She is your daughter, child of the +wife whom you hid away, ashamed of her because she came from the +people and you were an aristocrat. She is your child, but you will +never see her!" +</p> +<p> +Then those who watched had their fill of tragedy. They saw the puff +of smoke, the sharp, discordant report, the murderous face of the +man who leaned downward. They saw Sabatini throw up his hands to +heaven and fall, a crumpled heap, into the gutter. Isaac, with the +pistol to his own forehead, overbalanced himself in the act of +pulling the trigger, and came crashing down, a corpse, on to the +pavement. The crowd broke loose, <a name="Pg_329" id="Pg_329"></a>but Arnold was the first to raise +Sabatini. A shadow of the old smile parted his whitening lips. He +opened his eyes. +</p> +<p> +"It's a rotten death, boy," he whispered hoarsely; "a cur's bullet, +that. Look after her for me. I'd rather—I'd rather hear the drums +beating." +</p> +<p> +Arnold gripped him by the shoulders. +</p> +<p> +"Hold on to yourself, man!" he gasped. "There's a doctor +coming—he's here already. Hold on to yourself, for all our sakes! +We want you—Ruth will want you!" +</p> +<p> +Sabatini smiled very faintly. He was barely conscious. +</p> +<p> +"I'd rather have heard the drums," he muttered again. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0036"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_330" id="Pg_330"></a>CHAPTER XXXV +</h2> +<h3> + MR. WEATHERLEY RETURNS +</h3> +<p> +It was twenty minutes past nine on a Saturday morning when the +wonderful thing happened. Precisely at his accustomed hour, in his +accustomed suit of gray clothes, and with his silk hat a little on +the back of his head, Mr. Weatherley walked into his office, pausing +as usual to knock the ash from his cigar before he entered the +clerks' counting house. Twelve young men gazed at him in frank and +undiluted amazement. As though absolutely unconscious of anything +unusual, Mr. Weatherley grunted his "Good morning!" and passed on +into the private room. Arnold and Mr. Jarvis were busy sorting the +letters which had arrived by the morning's post. Mr. Weatherley +regarded them with an expression of mingled annoyance and surprise. +</p> +<p> +"What the devil are you doing, opening the letters before I get +here?" he exclaimed. "I'm punctual, am I not? Twenty-two minutes +past nine to the tick. Get out of my chair, Jarvis!" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis rose with a promptitude which was truly amazing, +considering that a second ago he had been sitting there as though +turned to stone. Mr. Weatherley was disposed to be irritable. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_331" id="Pg_331"></a>"What on earth are you both staring at?" he asked. "Nothing wrong +with my appearance, is there? You get out into the warehouse, +Jarvis, and wait until you're sent for. Chetwode, go and sit down at +your desk. I'll be ready to dictate replies to these as soon as I've +glanced them through." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis made a slow retreat towards the door. Every now and then +he turned and looked back over his shoulder. +</p> +<p> +"You will allow me to say, sir," he faltered, "that I—that we all +are glad to see you back." +</p> +<p> +"See me back?" Mr. Weatherley repeated, frowning heavily. "What the +devil do you mean, sir? Why, I was here till nearly six last +evening, straightening out the muddle you'd got Coswell's account +into." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis withdrew precipitately, closing the door behind him. Mr. +Weatherley glanced across the room to where Arnold was standing. +</p> +<p> +"I'm hanged if I can understand Jarvis lately," he said. "The fellow +seems off his head. See me back, indeed! Talks as though I'd been +away for a holiday." +</p> +<p> +Arnold opened his lips and closed them again without speech. Mr. +Weatherley took up the letters and began to read them, at first in +silence. Presently he began to swear. +</p> +<p> +"Anything wrong, sir?" Arnold asked. +</p> +<p> +"Has every one taken leave of their senses?" Mr. Weatherley +demanded, in a startled tone. "These can't be this morning's +letters. They're all about affairs I know nothing of. They're +dated—yes, they're all dated July 1. I was here yesterday—I +remember signing the cheques—May 4, it was. What the—" +</p> +<p> +He stopped short. The office boy had performed his <a name="Pg_332" id="Pg_332"></a>duty. Opposite +to him stood the great calendar recording the date—July 2 stared +him in the face. Mr. Weatherley put his hand to his forehead. +</p> +<p> +"Come here, Chetwode, quickly," he begged. +</p> +<p> +Arnold hurried over towards his employer. Mr. Weatherley had lost +flesh and there were bags under his eyes. His appearance now was the +appearance of a man who has received some terrifying shock. His +hands clasped the sides of his chair. +</p> +<p> +"I'm all right, Chetwode?" he gasped. "I haven't been ill or +anything? This isn't a nightmare? The office seems all changed. +You've moved the safe. The letters—I can't understand the letters! +Give me the Day Book, quick." +</p> +<p> +Arnold passed it to him silently. Mr. Weatherley turned over the +pages rapidly. At May 4, he stopped. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, yes! I remember this!" he exclaimed. "Twenty barrels of +apples, Spiers & Pond. Fifty hams to Coswell's. I remember this. But +what—" +</p> +<p> +His finger went down the page. He turned over rapidly, page after +page. The entries went on. They stopped at June 30. He shrank back +in his chair. +</p> +<p> +"Have I been ill, Chetwode?" he muttered. +</p> +<p> +Arnold put his arm upon his employer's shoulder. +</p> +<p> +"Not exactly ill, sir," he said, "but you haven't been here for some +time. You went home on May 4—we've none of us seen you since." +</p> +<p> +There was a silence. Very slowly Mr. Weatherley began to shake his +head. He seemed suddenly aged. +</p> +<p> +"Sit down, Chetwode—sit down quickly," he ordered, in a curious, +dry whisper. "You see, it was like this," he went on, leaning over +the table. "I heard a noise in the room and down I came. He was +hiding <a name="Pg_333" id="Pg_333"></a>there behind a curtain, but I saw him. Before I could shout +out to the servants, he had me covered with his revolver. I suppose +I'm not much to look at in a black tie and dress coat, wrong thing +altogether, I know,—but Fenella was out so it didn't really matter. +Anyway, he took me for the butler. 'It isn't you I want,' he said, +'it's your mistress and the others.' I stared at him and backed +toward the door. 'If you move from where you are,' he went on, +dropping his voice a little, 'I shall shoot you! Go and stand over +in that corner, behind me. It's Mrs. Weatherley I want. Now listen. +There's a ten-pound note in my waistcoat pocket. I'll give it to you +to go and fetch her. Tell her that an old friend has called and is +waiting to see her. You understand? If you go and don't bring her +back—if you give the alarm—you'll wake up one night and find me by +your bedside, and you'll be sorry.' You see, I remember every word +he said, Chetwode—every word." +</p> +<p> +"Go on, please!" Arnold exclaimed, breathlessly. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley nodded slowly. +</p> +<p> +"Yes," he said, "I shall tell you all about it. I remember every +word that was spoken; I can see the man at this moment. I didn't +move from where I was, but I was a little annoyed at being taken for +Groves, and I told him so. 'If you're a burglar,' I said, 'you've +found your way into trouble. I'm the master of the house and Mrs. +Weatherley is my wife. Perhaps you'll tell me now what you want with +her?' He looked at me and I suppose he decided that I was telling +the truth. 'Your wife,' he said slowly, 'is looking for trouble. I'm +not sure that it hasn't come. You know she was a friend of +Rosario—Rosario the Jew?' 'I know that they were acquainted,' I +said. He laughed then, <a name="Pg_334" id="Pg_334"></a>and I began to hate the fellow, Chetwode. +'It was your wife,' he said, 'for whom Rosario wanted that title. +She could have stopped him—' Then he broke off, Chetwode. 'But I +don't suppose you understand these things,' he said. 'You'd better +just understand this, though. I am here to have a little explanation +with Mrs. Weatherley. I have a message for her, and she's got to +hear it from my own lips. When I've finished with her, I want her +brother, and when I've finished with him, I want the young man who +was here the other night. It's no good saying he's not here now, +because I saw him start.'" +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley paused and felt his forehead. +</p> +<p> +"All the time, Chetwode," he went on, "I was watching the fellow, +and it began to dawn upon me that he was there to do her some +mischief. I didn't understand what it was all about but I could see +it in his face. He was an ill-looking ruffian. I remembered then +that Fenella had been frightened by some one hanging about the +house, more than once. Well, there he was opposite to me, Chetwode, +and by degrees I'd been moving a little nearer to him. He was after +mischief—I was sure of it. What should you have done, Chetwode?" +</p> +<p> +"I am not quite sure," Arnold answered. "What did you do?" +</p> +<p> +"We're coming to that," Mr. Weatherley declared, leaning a little +forward. "We're coming to that. Now in that open case, close to +where I was, my wife had some South American curios. There was a +funny wooden club there. The end was quite as heavy as any lead. I +caught hold of it and rushed in upon him. You see, Chetwode, I was +quite sure that he meant mischief. If Fenella had come in, he might +have hurt her." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_335" id="Pg_335"></a>"Exactly," Arnold agreed. "Go on, sir." +</p> +<p> +"Well, I gripped the club in my right hand," Mr. Weatherley +explained, seizing a ruler from the table, "like this, and I ran in +upon him. I took him rather by surprise—he hadn't expected anything +of the sort. He had one shot at me and missed. I felt the bullet go +scorching past my cheek—like this." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley struck the side of his face sharply with the flat of +his hand. +</p> +<p> +"He had another go at me but it was too late,—I was there upon him. +He held out his arm but I was too quick. I didn't seem to hit very +hard the first time but the club was heavy. His foot slipped on the +marble hearthstone and he went. He fell with a thud. Have you ever +killed a man, Chetwode?" +</p> +<p> +"Never, sir," Arnold answered, his voice shaking a little. +</p> +<p> +"Well, I never had before," Mr. Weatherley went on. "It really seems +quite amazing that that one blow right on the head should have done +it. He lay there quite still afterwards and it made me sick to look +at him. All the time, though, I kept on telling myself that if I had +not been there he would have hurt Fenella. That kept me quite cool. +Afterwards, I put the club carefully back in the case, pushed him a +little under the sofa, and then I stopped to think for a moment. I +was quite clever, Chetwode. The window was open through which the +man had come, so I locked the door on the inside, stepped out of the +window, came in at the front door with my latchkey, crept upstairs, +undressed quickly and got into bed. The funny part of it all was, +Chetwode," he concluded, "that nobody ever really found the body." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_336" id="Pg_336"></a>"You don't suppose that you could have dreamed it all, do you?" +Arnold asked. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley laughed contemptuously. +</p> +<p> +"What an absurd idea!" he exclaimed. "What a perfectly absurd idea! +Besides, although it did disappear, they came up and told me that +there was a man lying in the boudoir. You understand now how it all +happened," he went on. "It seemed to me quite natural at the time. +Still, when the morning came I realized that I had killed a man. +It's a horrid thing to kill a man, Chetwode!" +</p> +<p> +"Of course it is, sir," Arnold said, sympathetically. "Still, I +don't see what else you could have done." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley beamed. +</p> +<p> +"I am glad to hear you say that, Chetwode," he declared, "very glad. +Still, I didn't want to go to prison, you know, so a few days +afterwards I went away. I meant to hide for quite a long time. I—I +don't know what I'm doing back here." +</p> +<p> +He looked around the office like a trapped animal. +</p> +<p> +"I didn't mean to come back yet, Chetwode!" he exclaimed. "Don't +leave me! Do you hear? Don't leave me!" +</p> +<p> +"Only for one second, sir," Arnold replied, taking an invoice from +the desk. "They are wanting this in the warehouse." +</p> +<p> +Arnold stepped rapidly across to Mr. Jarvis's desk. +</p> +<p> +"Telephone home for his wife to come and bring a doctor," he +ordered. "Quick!" +</p> +<p> +"He's out of his mind!" Jarvis gasped. +</p> +<p> +"Stark mad," Arnold agreed. +</p> +<p> +When he re-entered the office, Mr. Weatherley was <a name="Pg_337" id="Pg_337"></a>sitting muttering +to himself. Arnold came over and sat opposite to him. +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Weatherley is calling round presently, sir," he announced. +"You'll be glad to see her again." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley went deadly pale. +</p> +<p> +"Does she know?" he moaned. +</p> +<p> +"She knows that some one was hurt," Arnold said. "As a matter of +fact," he continued, "I don't think the man could have been dead. We +were all out of the room for about five minutes, and when we came +back he was gone. I think that he must have got up and walked away." +</p> +<p> +"You don't think that I murdered him, then?" Mr. Weatherley +inquired, anxiously. +</p> +<p> +"Not you," Arnold assured him. "You stopped his hurting Mrs. +Weatherley, though." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley sighed. +</p> +<p> +"I should like to have killed him," he admitted, simply. "Fenella +and Sabatini, too, her brother,—they both laugh at me. They're a +little inclined to be romantic and they think I'm a queer sort of a +stick. I could never make out why she married me," he went on, +confidentially. "Of course, they were both stoneybroke at the time +and I put up a decent bit of money, but it isn't money, after all, +that buys a woman like Fenella." +</p> +<p> +"I'm sure she will be very pleased to see you again, sir," Arnold +said. +</p> +<p> +"Do you think she will, Chetwode? Do you think she will?" Mr. +Weatherley demanded, anxiously. "Has she missed me while I have +been—where the devil have I been, Chetwode? You must tell me—tell +me quick! She'll be here directly and she'll want to know. I can't +remember. It was a long street and <a name="Pg_338" id="Pg_338"></a>there was a public-house at the +corner, and I had a job somewhere, hadn't I, stacking cheeses? Look +here, Chetwode, you must tell me all about it. You're my private +secretary. You ought to know everything of that sort." +</p> +<p> +"I'll make it all right with Mrs. Weatherley," Arnold promised. "We +can't go into all these matters now." +</p> +<p> +"Of course not—of course not," Mr. Weatherley agreed. "You're quite +right, Chetwode. A time for everything, eh? How's the little lady +you brought down to Bourne End?" +</p> +<p> +"She's very well, thank you, sir," Arnold replied. +</p> +<p> +"Now it's a queer thing," Mr. Weatherley continued, "but only +yesterday—or was it the day before—I was trying to think whom she +reminded me of. It couldn't have been my brother-in-law, could it, +Chetwode. Did you ever fancy that she was like Sabatini?" +</p> +<p> +"I had noticed it, sir," Arnold admitted, with a little start. +"There is a likeness." +</p> +<p> +"I'm glad you agree with me," Mr. Weatherley declared, approvingly. +"Splendid fellow, Sabatini," he continued,—"full of race to his +finger-tips. Brave as a lion, too, but unscrupulous. He'd wring a +man's neck who refused to do what he told him. Yet do you know, +Chetwode, he wouldn't take money from me? He was desperately hard up +one day, I know, and I offered him a cheque, but he only shook his +head. 'You can look after Fenella,' he said. 'That's all you've got +to do. One in the family is enough.' The night after, he played +baccarat with Rosario and he won two thousand pounds. Clever +fellow—Sabatini. I wish I wasn't so frightened of him. You know the +sort of feeling he <a name="Pg_339" id="Pg_339"></a>gives me, Chetwode?" Mr. Weatherley continued. +"He always makes me feel that I'm wearing the wrong clothes or doing +the wrong thing. I'm never really at my ease when he's about. But I +like him—I like him very much indeed." +</p> +<p> +Arnold had turned a little away. He was beginning to feel the strain +of the situation. +</p> +<p> +"I wish Fenella would come," Mr. Weatherley wandered on. "I don't +seem to be able to get on with my work this morning, since you told +me she was coming down. Queer thing, although I was with her last +evening, you know, Chetwode, I feel, somehow, as though I'd been +away from her for weeks and weeks. I can't remember exactly how +long—there's such a buzzing in my head when I try. What do you do +when you have a buzzing in your head, Chetwode?" +</p> +<p> +"I generally try and rest in an easy-chair," Arnold replied. +</p> +<p> +"I'll try that, too," Mr. Weatherley decided, rising to his feet. +"It's a—most extraordinary thing, Chetwode, but my knees are +shaking. Hold me up—catch hold of me, quick!" +</p> +<p> +Arnold half carried him to the easy-chair. The horn of the +automobile sounded outside. +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Weatherley is here, sir," Arnold whispered. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Weatherley opened his eyes. +</p> +<p> +"Good!" he murmured. "Let me sit up." +</p> +<p> +There was a moment's pause. Arnold moved to the door and held it +open. They heard the swish of her skirts as she came through the +outer office, and the heavier footsteps of the doctor who followed. +Mr. Weatherley tried vainly to rise to his feet. He held out his +arms. Fenella hastened towards him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_340" id="Pg_340"></a>"Fenella, I couldn't help it," her husband gasped. "I had to kill +him—he told me he was waiting there for you. My hands are quite +clean now. Chetwode told me that he got up and walked away, but +that's all nonsense. I struck him right over the skull." +</p> +<p> +She fell on her knees by his side. +</p> +<p> +"You dear, brave man," she murmured. "I believe you saved my life." +</p> +<p> +He smiled. His face was suddenly childlike. He was filled with an +infinite content. +</p> +<p> +"I think," he said, "that I should like—to go home now—if this +other gentleman and Chetwode will kindly help me out. You see, I +haven't been here since May 4, and to-day is July 2. I think I must +have overslept myself. And that idiot Jarvis was opening the letters +when I arrived! Yes, I'm quite ready." +</p> +<p> +They helped him out to the carriage. He stepped in and took his +usual place without speaking again. The car drove off, Fenella +holding his hand, the doctor sitting opposite. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0037"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_341" id="Pg_341"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI +</h2> +<h3> + COUNTERCLAIMS +</h3> +<p> +There was nothing about their attitude or appearance which indicated +the change. Their chairs were so close together that they almost +touched. Her white, ringless hand lay in his. Through the wide-open +window of their tiny sitting-room they looked down upon the river as +they had sat and watched it so many evenings before. Yet the change +was unmistakable. Arnold no longer guessed at it—he felt it. The +old days of their pleasant comradeship had gone. There were reserves +in everything she said. Sometimes she shrank from him almost as +though he were a stranger. The eyes that grew bright and still +danced with pleasure at his coming, were almost, a moment later, +filled with apprehension as she watched him. +</p> +<p> +"Tell me again," he begged, "what the doctor really said! It sounds +too good to be true." +</p> +<p> +"So I thought," she agreed, "but I haven't exaggerated a thing. He +assured me that there was no risk, no pain, and that the cure was +certain. I am to go to the hospital in three weeks' time." +</p> +<p> +"You don't mind it?" +</p> +<p> +"Why should I?" she answered. "The last time," <a name="Pg_342" id="Pg_342"></a>she continued, "it +was in France. I remember the white stone corridors, the white room, +and the surgeons all dressed in white. Do you know, they say that I +shall be out again in a fortnight." +</p> +<p> +He nodded. +</p> +<p> +"I can see you already," he declared, "with a gold-headed stick and +a fascinating limp like Marguerite de Vallières." +</p> +<p> +She smiled very faintly but said nothing. Somehow, it was hard to +make conversation. Ruth was unusually pale, even for her. The eyes +which followed that line of yellow lights were full of trouble. +</p> +<p> +"Tell me," he begged presently, "you have something on your mind, I +am sure. There is nothing you are keeping from me?" +</p> +<p> +"Have I not enough," she asked, "to make me anxious?" +</p> +<p> +"Naturally," he admitted, "and yet, after all, you have only seen +your father once in your life." +</p> +<p> +"But I am sure that I could have loved him so much," she murmured. +"He seems to have come and gone in a dream." +</p> +<p> +"This morning's report was more hopeful," he reminded her. "There is +every chance that he may live." +</p> +<p> +"All the time," she answered, fervently, "I am praying that he may. +If he treated my mother badly, I am sure that he has suffered. I +can't quite forget, either," she went on, "although that seems +selfish, that when I come out of the hospital, even if all goes +well, I may still be homeless." +</p> +<p> +He leaned over her. +</p> +<p> +"Ruth," he exclaimed, "what do you mean?" +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_343" id="Pg_343"></a>"You know," she answered, simply. "You must know." +</p> +<p> +His heart began to beat more quickly. He turned his head but she was +looking away. He could see only the curve of her long eyelashes. It +seemed to him strange then that he had never noticed the likeness to +Sabatini before. Her mouth, her forehead, the carriage of her head, +were all his. He leaned towards her. There was something stirring in +his heart then, something throbbing there, which seemed to bring +with it a cloud of new and bewildering emotions. The whole world was +slipping away. Something strange had come into the room. +</p> +<p> +"Ruth," he whispered, "will you look at me for a moment?" +</p> +<p> +She kept her head turned away. +</p> +<p> +"Don't!" she pleaded. "Don't talk to me just now. I can't bear it, +Arnold." +</p> +<p> +"But I have something to say to you," he persisted. "I have +something new, something I must say, something that has just come to +me. You must listen, Ruth." +</p> +<p> +She held out her hand feverishly. +</p> +<p> +"Please, Arnold," she begged, "I don't want to hear—anything. I +know how kind you are and how generous. Just now—I think it is the +heat—be still, please. I can't bear anything." +</p> +<p> +Her fingers clutched his and yet kept him away. Every moment he was +more confident of this thing which had come to him. A strange +longing was filling his heart. The old days when he had kissed her +carelessly upon the forehead seemed far enough away. Then, in that +brief period of silence which seemed to <a name="Pg_344" id="Pg_344"></a>him too wonderful to break, +there came a little tap at the door. They both turned their heads. +</p> +<p> +"Come in," Arnold invited. +</p> +<p> +There was a moment's hesitation. Then the door was opened. Fenella +entered. Arnold sprang to his feet. +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Weatherley!" he exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +She smiled at him with all her old insolent grace. +</p> +<p> +"Since when?" she demanded. "Fenella, if you please." +</p> +<p> +She was more simply dressed than usual, in a thin, black gown and +black picture hat, and there were shadows under her eyes. No one +could look at her and fail to know that she was suffering. She came +across to Ruth. +</p> +<p> +"My brother is the dearest thing in life to me," she said. "He is +all that I have left to me belonging to my own world. All these days +I have spent at his bedside, except when they have sent me away. +This evening I have come to see you. You are his child, Ruth." +</p> +<p> +Ruth turned her head slowly. +</p> +<p> +"Yes," she murmured, half fearfully. +</p> +<p> +"When Arnold brought you to Bourne End," Fenella continued, "for one +moment I looked at you and I wondered. You seemed, even then, to +remind me of some one who had existed in the past. I know now who it +was. You have something of Andrea's air, but you are very like your +mother, Ruth." +</p> +<p> +"You knew her?" Ruth asked. +</p> +<p> +"Very slightly," Fenella replied. "She was a very clever actress and +I saw her sometimes upon the stage. Sometimes I think that Andrea +did not treat her well, but that was the way of his world. Assuredly +he never <a name="Pg_345" id="Pg_345"></a>treated her badly, or you and I would not be here together +now." +</p> +<p> +"I am afraid that you are sorry," Ruth said, timidly. +</p> +<p> +Fenella laid her hand almost caressingly upon the girl's shoulder. +</p> +<p> +"You need fear nothing of the sort," she assured her. "Why should I +be sorry? You are something that will remind me of him, something I +shall always be glad to have near me. You can guess why I have +come?" +</p> +<p> +Ruth made no answer for a moment. Fenella laughed, a little +imperiously. +</p> +<p> +"You poor child!" she exclaimed. "You cannot think that since I know +the truth I could leave you here for a single second? We can fetch +your clothes any time. To-night you are coming home with me." +</p> +<p> +Ruth gazed at her with straining face. +</p> +<p> +"Home?" she murmured. +</p> +<p> +"But naturally," Fenella replied. "You are my brother's child and I +am a lonely woman. Do you think that I could leave you here for a +single second? Arnold has some claims, I know," she continued. "He +can come and see you sometimes. Do not be afraid," she went on, her +voice suddenly softening. "I shall try to be kind to you. I have +been a very selfish person all my life. I think it will be good for +me to have some one to care for. Arnold, please to go and ring for +the lift. Now that I have two invalids to think about, I must not be +away for long." +</p> +<p> +He looked at Ruth for a moment. Then he obeyed her. When he +returned, Ruth was standing up, leaning upon Fenella's arm. She held +out her other hand to Arnold. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_346" id="Pg_346"></a>"You will help me down, please?" she begged. +</p> +<p> +It was a day of new emotions for Arnold. He was conscious suddenly +of a fierce wave of jealousy, of despair. She was going, and +notwithstanding the half pathetic, half appealing smile with which +she held out her hands, she was happy to go! Fenella saw his +expression and laughed in his face. +</p> +<p> +"Arnold looks at me as though I were a thief," she declared, +lightly, "and I have only come to claim my own. If you behave very +nicely, Arnold, you can come and see us just as often as you +please." +</p> +<p> +It was all over in a few minutes. The automobile which had been +standing in the street below was gone. Arnold was alone upon the +sofa. The book which she had been reading, her handkerchief, a bowl +of flowers which she had arranged, an odd glove, were lying on the +table by his side. But Ruth had gone. The little room seemed cold +and empty. He gripped the window-sill, and, sitting where they had +sat together only a few minutes ago, he looked down at the curving +lights. The old dreams surged up into his brain. The treasure ship +had come indeed, the treasure ship for Ruth. Almost immediately the +egotism of the man rebuked itself. If, indeed, she were passing into +a new and happier life, should he not first, of every one, be +thankful?—first of every one because within that hour he had +learned the secret toward which he had been dimly struggling? +</p> +<a name="2H_4_0038"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> + +<div style="height: 4em;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> + +<h2> + <a name="Pg_347" id="Pg_347"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII +</h2> +<h3> + THE SHIPS COME IN +</h3> +<p> +The accountant was preparing to take his leave. There had been an +informal little meeting held in the dingy private office of Messrs. +Samuel Weatherley & Company, at which he had presided. +</p> +<p> +"I really feel," he said, as he drew on his gloves thoughtfully, +"that I must repeat my congratulations to you, Mr. Jarvis, and to +your young coadjutor here, Mr. Chetwode. The results which I have +had the pleasure of laying before you are quite excellent. In fact, +so far as I can remember, the firm has scarcely ever had a more +prosperous half year." +</p> +<p> +"Very kind of you, I am sure," Mr. Jarvis declared, "and most +satisfactory to us. We've worked hard, of course, but that doesn't +amount to much, after all. When you've been in a business, as I have +in this one, for something like thirty-five years, the interest you +take in it is such that you can't help working. This I must say, +though," he went on, placing his hand on Arnold's shoulder, "Mr. +Chetwode is almost a newcomer here, and yet his energy has sometimes +astounded me. Most remarkable and most creditable! For the last two +months, Mr. Neville, he has scarcely slept in <a name="Pg_348" id="Pg_348"></a>London for a single +night. He has been to Bristol and Cardiff and Liverpool—all over +the country, in fact—in the interests of the firm, with results +that have sometimes astonished us." +</p> +<p> +The accountant nodded approvingly. He took up the balance sheet +which they had been perusing and placed it in its envelope. +</p> +<p> +"I shall now," he said, "call upon Mr. Weatherley, and I am sure he +will be most gratified. I understand that our next meeting is to be +down here." +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jarvis beamed. +</p> +<p> +"Although I must say," he admitted, "that the responsibility has +been a great pleasure, still, we shall be heartily glad to see Mr. +Weatherley back again." +</p> +<p> +"I am sure of it," the accountant assented. "I understand that he +has made a complete recovery." +</p> +<p> +"Absolutely his own self again, sir," Mr. Jarvis declared, "and +looking better than ever." +</p> +<p> +"Odd thing, though, that loss of memory," the accountant remarked. +"I was talking to the doctor about it only the other day. He seems +to have wandered away into some sort of hiding, under the impression +that he had committed a crime, and now that he is getting better he +has absolutely forgotten all about it. He just thinks that he has +had an ordinary illness and has had to stay away from business for a +time." +</p> +<p> +"Queer thing altogether, sir," Mr. Jarvis admitted; "a queer +business, sir. However, it's over and done with, and the less said +about it, the better. We are both very much obliged to you, Mr. +Neville, for your kind offices, and I am only thankful that the +results have been so satisfactory." +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_349" id="Pg_349"></a>Mr. Jarvis conducted his visitor to the door and returned to Arnold +with beaming face. In anticipation of the accountant's visit he was +wearing a frock-coat, which was already a shade too small for him. +He carefully divested himself of this garment, put on his linen +office-coat and turned towards his companion. +</p> +<p> +"Chetwode," he said, "I have a proposition to make. The firm shall +stand us a little dinner this evening, which we will take together. +We will go up to the west-end. You shall choose the proper place and +order everything—just the best you can think of. The firm shall +pay. Mr. Weatherley would be quite agreeable, I am sure." +</p> +<p> +Arnold forced himself to accept the suggestion with some appearance +of pleasure. +</p> +<p> +"Delighted!" he agreed. "We'll have to finish up the letters and go +through this mail first." +</p> +<p> +"Just so," Mr. Jarvis replied. "After that, we'll shut up shop. This +is quite a red-letter day, Chetwode. I knew that we'd held our own, +but I must confess that I found those figures most exhilarating. Our +little bonus, too, will be worth having." +</p> +<p> +Later on, they found their way to a restaurant in the Strand, where +Mr. Jarvis ate and drank perhaps better than he had ever done in his +life. The evening to him was one of unalloyed pleasure, and he was +genuinely disappointed when Arnold pleaded an engagement as an +excuse for not finishing up at a music-hall. About nine o'clock the +two men parted, Mr. Jarvis to spend the rest of the evening alone, +with a big cigar in his mouth and an unaccustomed feeling of levity +in his head. Arnold, after a moment's hesitation, walked slowly back +to his empty rooms. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_350" id="Pg_350"></a>So this was success! Without a friend in the world, without +training or any practical knowledge of life, his feet were firmly +planted upon the ladder. He had stifled all sorts of nameless +ambitions. He had set his teeth and done what appeared to be his +duty. Now it seemed to him that he had come to a pause. He drew up +his sofa to the window of his sitting-room and looked downward. +Somehow or other, the depression against which he had struggled all +the evening seemed only intensified by what he saw below. An early +autumn had stripped bare the leaves from the scanty trees; the sky +was gray and starless. Even the lights along the river front seemed +to burn with a dull and uninspiring fire. He looked around him and +his depression became an almost overmastering sensation. He hated +the sight of his empty room, the phantom thoughts that would light +upon his shoulder, the sofa upon which he was sitting alone, the +memory of the things which he might have said to Ruth in the days +when the opportunity was his. For a moment he even thought of Mr. +Jarvis at the music-hall alone, the welcoming lights, the pleasant +warmth, the music, the cheerful throngs of people. Better anything, +he told himself, than this brooding! A sudden almost reckless +impulse called him back again into the streets, only to pass away +the same moment with the vision of Ruth's pale face by his side, her +eyes alternately gazing down the lighted way and seeking his, her +fingers grasping his hand. His head sank forward into his hands. He +was alone! +</p> +<p> +He sat up suddenly with a start. The inner door of the room had +opened and was softly closed again. A familiar voice addressed him. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_351" id="Pg_351"></a>"I find your habits, my young friend, somewhat erratic," Sabatini +remarked. "Your supply of common necessaries, too, seems limited. I +have been driven to explore, quite fruitlessly, the whole of your +little domain, in the vain search for a match." +</p> +<p> +He pointed to the unlit cigarette between his fingers. Arnold, who +was a little dazed, rose and produced a box of matches. +</p> +<p> +"But I don't understand how it is that you are here!" he exclaimed. +"I thought that you were at Brighton. And how did you get in?" +</p> +<p> +Sabatini seated himself comfortably at the end of the sofa and +placed a cushion behind his head. +</p> +<p> +"We came up from Brighton this afternoon," he explained, puffing +contentedly at his cigarette. "I am now pronounced convalescent. +Ruth, too, could throw away her stick any moment she wanted to, only +I fancy that she thinks its use becoming." +</p> +<p> +"But," Arnold persisted, "I don't understand how you got in! You +know that I am glad to see you." +</p> +<p> +"I got in with Ruth's key, of course," Sabatini replied. +</p> +<p> +Arnold leaned against the back of the sofa. +</p> +<p> +"I had forgotten," he said. "Of course, if I had known that you had +been coming, I would have been here. The accountant brought in the +result of our last six months' work this afternoon, and Mr. Jarvis +insisted upon a little celebration. We had dinner together." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini nodded. +</p> +<p> +"So you have been successful," he remarked, thoughtfully. "You kept +your feet along the narrow way <a name="Pg_352" id="Pg_352"></a>and you have done well. I am glad. +Sit down here by my side." +</p> +<p> +Arnold sat down on the end of the sofa. The curtain was pulled up as +far as it would go. Below them, the curving arc of lights stretched +away to the dim distance. Sabatini followed them with his eyes, for +a moment, as though he, too, found something inspiring in that +lighted way. Then he turned to Arnold with a queer little twinkle in +his eyes. +</p> +<p> +"By the bye," he asked, "you haven't heard—Fenella hasn't told you +of the last turn in fortune's wheel?" +</p> +<p> +"I have seen little of Mrs. Weatherley lately," Arnold murmured. +</p> +<p> +Sabatini leaned back in his place. His hollow eyes were lit now with +laughter, his mouth twitched. The marks of his illness seemed almost +to pass. +</p> +<p> +"It is delicious," he declared. "Listen. You remember that one day +when you dined with me I told you of my uncle the Cardinal?" +</p> +<p> +"The uncle from whom you borrowed money?" Arnold remarked, dryly. +</p> +<p> +"Precisely," Sabatini agreed; "I borrowed money from him! It was +only a trifle but I chose my own methods. Heavens, but it is droll!" +</p> +<p> +Sabatini began to laugh softly. His whole face now was alight with +enjoyment. +</p> +<p> +"Last month," he continued, "His Eminence died. He had fourteen +nephews, three brothers, two sisters, and no end of nieces. To whom +do you think he has left his entire fortune, my dear Arnold—three +hundred thousand pounds they say it is?" +</p> +<p> +"To you!" Arnold gasped. +</p> +<p> +<a name="Pg_353" id="Pg_353"></a>"To me, indeed," Sabatini assented. "I did not even go to the +funeral. I read of his death in the newspapers and I shrugged my +shoulders. It was nothing to me. Yet those fourteen nephews were +left not so much as would buy their mourning clothes. This is the +chief sentence in the will,—'<i>To the only one of my relatives whose +method of seeking my favors has really appealed to me, I leave the +whole of my fortune, without partition or reserve.</i>'—And then my +name. I was that one. Almost," Sabatini concluded, with a little +sigh, "I am sorry that he is dead. I should have liked once more to +have shaken him by the hand." +</p> +<p> +Arnold was speechless. The realization of what it all meant was +beginning to dawn upon him. Sabatini was wealthy—Ruth was a great +heiress. Her treasure ship had come in, indeed—and his was passing +him by. +</p> +<p> +"I am glad," he said slowly, "glad for your sake and for Ruth's." +</p> +<p> +Sabatini nodded. +</p> +<p> +"My shadowy means," he remarked, "have kept me in comfort. Perhaps, +even, they have been a trifle more than I have let people imagine. +Still, this is all very different. Ruth and I are going to wander +about the Riviera for a time. Afterwards, we are going to sail to +Sabatini and patch up my old castle. I have some tenants there who +certainly deserve a little consideration from me—old friends, who +would sooner live without a roof over their heads than seek a new +master. I shall grow vines again, my young friend, and make cheeses. +You shall come from the illustrious firm of Samuel Weatherley & +Company and be my most favored customer. But let me give you just a +word <a name="Pg_354" id="Pg_354"></a>of advice while I am in the humor. Buy our cheeses, if you +will, but never touch our wine. Leave that for the peasants who make +it. Somehow or other, they thrive,—they even become, at times, +merry upon it,—but the Lord have mercy upon those others, not born +upon the island of Sabatini, who raise it to their lips!" +</p> +<p> +"I will leave the wine alone," Arnold promised. "But shan't I be +able to say good-bye to Ruth?" +</p> +<p> +Sabatini leaned towards him. His expression was once more grave, yet +there was the dawn of a smile upon his sensitive lips. +</p> +<p> +"You can say to her what you will," he murmured, "for she is here. +She had a fancy to look at her old room. I was there with her when +you arrived. I have a fancy now to give an order to my chauffeur. <i>À +bientôt!</i>" +</p> +<p> +Arnold rose slowly to his feet. His heart was beginning to beat +fiercely. He was looking across the room with straining eyes. It was +not possible that clothes and health could make so great a +difference as this! She was standing upon the threshold of her room. +She was coming now slowly towards him, leaning ever so slightly upon +her stick. Her cheeks were touched with pink, her eyes were lit with +so soft and wonderful a brilliance that they shone like stars. He +forgot her fashionable hat, the quiet elegance of her clothes. It +was Ruth who came towards him—Ruth, radiantly beautiful, +transformed—yet Ruth! He held out his arms and with a little sob +she glided into them. +</p> +<p> +Side by side they took their accustomed places upon the horse-hair +sofa. Her head sank upon his shoulder, <a name="Pg_355" id="Pg_355"></a>her hands clasped his, her +eyes were wet with tears. A siren blew from the river. A little tug, +with two barges lashed alongside, was coming valiantly along. The +dark coil of water seemed suddenly agleam with quivering lights. +</p> +<p> +"Our ships," she whispered, "together, dear!" +</p> + +<h4>THE END</h4> + +<hr class="full" /> +<h3> + E. Phillips Oppenheim's Novels +</h3> +<hr /> +<p> +Mr. Oppenheim never fails to entertain us.—<i>Boston Transcript</i>. +</p> +<p> +The author has acquired an admirable technique of the sort demanded +by the novel of intrigue and mystery.—<i>The Dial</i>, Chicago. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Oppenheim is a past master of the art of constructing ingenious +plots and weaving them around attractive characters.—<i>London +Morning Post</i>. +</p> +<p> +By all odds the most successful among the writers of that class of +fiction which, for want of a better term, may be called "mystery +stories."—<i>Ainslee's Magazine</i>. +</p> +<p> +Readers of Mr. Oppenheim's novels may always count on a story of +absorbing interest, turning on a complicated plot, worked out with +dexterous craftsmanship.—<i>Literary Digest</i>, New York. +</p> +<p> +We do not stop to inquire into the measure of his art, any more than +we inquire into that of Alexandre Dumas, we only realize that here +is a benefactor of tired men and women seeking relaxation.—<i>The +Independent</i>, New York. +</p> +<hr /> +<b> +Havoc +</b> +<p> +A brilliant and engrossing story of love, mystery, and international +intrigue. +</p> +<b> +Peter Ruff and the Double Four +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +Deals with the exploits of a shrewd detective and a mysterious +secret society. +</p> +<b> +The Moving Finger. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +A mystifying story dealing with unexpected results of a wealthy +M.P.'s experiment with a poor young man. +</p> +<b> +Berenice. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +Oppenheim in a new vein—the story of the love of a novelist of high +ideals for an actress. +</p> +<b> +The Lost Ambassador. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +A straightforward mystery tale of Paris and London, in which a +rascally maître d'hotel plays an important part. +</p> +<b> +A Daughter of the Marionis. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +A melodramatic romance of Palermo and England, dealing with a +rejected Italian lover's attempted revenge. +</p> +<b> +Mystery of Mr. Bernard Brown. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +A murder-mystery story rich in sensational incidents. +</p> +<b> +The Illustrious Prince. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +A narrative of mystery and Japanese political intrigue. +</p> +<b> +Jeanne of the Marshes. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +Strange doings at an English house party are here set forth. +</p> +<b> +The Governors. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +A romance of the intrigues of American finance. +</p> +<b> +The Missioner. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +Strongly depicts the love of an earnest missioner and a worldly +heroine. +</p> +<b> +The Long Arm of Mannister. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +A distinctly different story that deals with a wronged man's +ingenious revenge. +</p> +<b> +As a Man Lives. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +Discloses the mystery surrounding the fair occupant of a yellow +house. +</p> +<b> +The Avenger. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +Unravels an intricate tangle of political intrigue and private +revenge. +</p> +<b> +The Great Secret. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +Unfolds a stupendous international conspiracy. +</p> +<b> +A Lost Leader. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +A realistic romance woven around a striking personality. +</p> +<b> +A Maker of History. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +"Explains" the Russian Baltic fleet's attack on the North Sea +fishing fleet. +</p> +<b> +Enoch Strone: A Master of Men. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +The story of a self-made man who made a foolish early marriage. +</p> +<b> +The Malefactor. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +An amazing story of a man who suffered imprisonment for a crime he +did not commit. +</p> +<b> +The Traitors. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +A capital romance of love, adventure and Russian intrigue. +</p> +<b> +A Prince of Sinners. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +An engrossing story of English social and political life. +</p> +<b> +A Millionaire of Yesterday. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +A gripping story of a wealthy West African miner. +</p> +<b> +The Man and His Kingdom. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +A dramatic tale of adventure in South America. +</p> +<b> +Anna the Adventuress. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +A surprising tale of a bold deception. +</p> +<b> +Mysterious Mr. Sabin. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +An ingenious story of a world-startling international intrigue. +</p> +<b> +The Yellow Crayon. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +Containing the exciting experiences of Mr. Sabin with a powerful +secret society. +</p> +<b> +The Betrayal. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +A thrilling story of treachery in high diplomatic circles. +</p> +<b> +A Sleeping Memory. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +A remarkable story of an unhappy girl who was deprived of her +memory. +</p> +<b> +The Master Mummer. +</b> +<p class="bkdes"> +The strange romance of beautiful Isobel de Sorrens. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4> +Little, Brown & Co., <i>Publishers</i>, Boston +</h4> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIGHTED WAY***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 15893-h.txt or 15893-h.zip 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Phillips Oppenheim, +Illustrated by A. B. Wenzell + + +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 Lighted Way + + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Release Date: May 24, 2005 [eBook #15893] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIGHTED WAY*** + + +E-text prepared by Janet Kegg and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed +Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 15893-h.htm or 15893-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/8/9/15893/15893-h/15893-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/8/9/15893/15893-h.zip) + + + + + +THE LIGHTED WAY + +by + +E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM + +Author of _Havoc_, _Peter Ruff and the Double-Four_, +_The Master Mummer_, etc. + +With Illustrations by A. B. Wenzell + +Boston +Little, Brown, and Company + +1912 + + + + + + + + [Illustration: Her head sank upon his shoulder, her hands + clasped his. FRONTISPIECE. _See page 354_.] + + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I AN INVITATION TO DINNER + II RUTH + III ARNOLD SCENTS MYSTERY + IV THE FACE AT THE WINDOW + V AN UNUSUAL ERRAND + VI THE GLEAM OF STEEL + VII "ROSARIO IS DEAD!" + VIII THE DUTIES OF A SECRETARY + IX A STRAINED CONVERSATION + X AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR + XI AN INTERRUPTED LUNCHEON + XII JARVIS IS JUSTLY DISTURBED + XIII CASTLES IN SPAIN + XIV SABATINI'S DOCTRINES + XV THE RED SIGNET RING + XVI AN ADVENTURE + XVII THE END OF AN EVENING + XVIII DISCUSSING THE MYSTERY + XIX IN THE COUNTRY + XX WOMAN'S WILES + XXI ARNOLD SPEAKS OUT + XXII THE REFUGEE'S RETURN + XXIII TROUBLE BREWING + XXIV ISAAC AT BAY + XXV MR. WEATHERLEY'S DISAPPEARANCE + XXVI ARNOLD BECOMES INQUISITIVE + XXVII THE LETTERS IN THE SAFE +XXVIII TALK OF TREASURE SHIPS + XXIX COUNT SABATINI VISITS + XXX SOME QUESTIONS ANSWERED + XXXI A LUNCHEON-PARTY + XXXII ISAAC IN HIDING +XXXIII SABATINI'S DAUGHTER + XXXIV CLOSE TO TRAGEDY + XXXV MR. WEATHERLEY RETURNS + XXXVI COUNTERCLAIMS +XXXVII THE SHIP COMES IN + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + +Her head sank upon his shoulder, her hands clasped his (Frontispiece) +"I was waiting here for you," he explained +The eyes of every one were turned toward the wall +"For myself," he declared, "I remain" +"Where is this man?" he demanded +Mrs. Weatherley and the cashier looked over his shoulder + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AN INVITATION TO DINNER + + +Mr. Samuel Weatherley, sole proprietor of the firm of Samuel +Weatherley & Co., wholesale provision merchants, of Tooley Street, +London, paused suddenly on his way from his private office to the +street. There was something which until that second had entirely +slipped his memory. It was not his umbrella, for that, neatly tucked +up, was already under his arm. Nor was it the _Times_, for that, +together with the supplement, was sticking out of his overcoat +pocket, the shape of which it completely ruined. As a matter of +fact, it was more important than either of these--it was a +commission from his wife. + +Very slowly he retraced his steps until he stood outside the +glass-enclosed cage where twelve of the hardest-worked clerks in +London bent over their ledgers and invoicing. With his forefinger--a +fat, pudgy forefinger--he tapped upon a pane of glass, and an +anxious errand boy bolted through the doorway. + +"Tell Mr. Jarvis to step this way," his employer ordered. + +Mr. Jarvis heard the message and came hurrying out. He was an +undersized man, with somewhat prominent eyes concealed by +gold-rimmed spectacles. He was possessed of extraordinary talents +with regard to the details of the business, and was withal an expert +and careful financier. Hence his hold upon the confidence of his +employer. + +The latter addressed him with a curious and altogether unusual +hesitation in his manner. + +"Mr. Jarvis," he began, "there is a matter--a little matter--upon +which I--er--wish to consult you." + +"Those American invoices--" + +"Nothing to do with business at all," Mr. Weatherley interrupted, +ruthlessly. "A little private matter." + +"Indeed, sir?" Mr. Jarvis interjected. + +"The fact is," Mr. Weatherley blundered on, with considerable +awkwardness, for he hated the whole affair, "my wife--Mrs. +Weatherley, you know--is giving a party this evening--having some +friends to dinner first, and then some other people coming to +bridge. We are a man short for dinner. Mrs. Weatherley told me to +get some one at the club--telephoned down here just an hour ago." + +Mr. Weatherley paused. Mr. Jarvis did his best to grasp the +situation, but failed. All that he could do was to maintain his +attitude of intelligent interest. + +"I don't know any one at the club," continued his employer, +irritably. "I feel like a fish out of water there, and that's the +truth, Mr. Jarvis. It's a good club. I got elected there--well, +never mind how--but it's one thing to be a member of a club, and +quite another to get to know the men there. You understand that, Mr. +Jarvis." + +Mr. Jarvis, however, did not understand it. He could conceive of no +spot in the city of London, or its immediate neighborhood, where Mr. +Samuel Weatherley, head of the firm of Messrs. Weatherley & Co., +could find himself among his social superiors. He knew the capital +of the firm, and its status. He was ignorant of the other things +which counted--as ignorant as his master had been until he had paid +a business visit a few years ago, in search of certain edibles, to +an island in the Mediterranean Sea. He was to have returned in +triumph to Tooley Street and launched upon the provision-buying +world a new cheese of astounding quality and infinitesimal +price--instead of which he brought home a wife. + +"Anything I can do, sir," began Mr. Jarvis, a little vaguely,-- + +"My idea was," Mr. Weatherley proceeded, "that one of my own young +men--there are twelve of them in there, aren't there?" he added, +jerking his head in the direction of the office--"might do. What do +you think?" + +Mr. Jarvis nodded thoughtfully. + +"It would be a great honor, sir," he declared, "a very great honor +indeed." + +Mr. Weatherley did not contradict him. As a matter of fact, he was +of the same opinion. + +"The question is which," he continued. + +Mr. Jarvis began to understand why he had been consulted. His +fingers involuntarily straightened his tie. + +"If I could be of any use personally, sir,--" + +His employer shook his head. + +"My wife would expect me to bring a single man, Jarvis," he said, +"and besides, I don't suppose you play bridge." + +"Cards are not much in my line," Mr. Jarvis admitted, "not having, +as a rule, the time to spare, but I can take a hand at loo, if +desired." + +"My wife's friends all play bridge," Mr. Weatherley declared, a +little brusquely. "There's only one young man in the office, Jarvis, +who, from his appearance, struck me as being likely." + +"Mr. Stephen Tidey, of course, sir," the confidential clerk agreed. +"Most suitable thing, sir, and I'm sure his father would accept it +as a high compliment. Mr. Stephen Tidey Senior, sir, as you may be +aware, is next on the list for the shrievalty. Shall I call him out, +sir?" + +Mr. Weatherley looked through the glass and met the glance, +instantly lowered, of the young man in question. Mr. Stephen Tidey +Junior was short and stout, reflecting in his physique his +aldermanic father. His complexion was poor, however, his neck thick, +and he wore a necktie of red silk drawn through a diamond ring. +There was nothing in his appearance which grated particularly upon +Mr. Weatherley's sense of seemliness. Nevertheless, he shook his +head. He was beginning to recognize his wife's point of view, even +though it still seemed strange to him. + +"I wasn't thinking of young Tidey at all," he declared, bluntly. "I +was thinking of that young fellow at the end of the desk there--chap +with a queer name--Chetwode, I think you call him." + +Mr. Jarvis, human automaton though he was, permitted himself an +exclamation of surprise. + +"Young Chetwode! Surely you're not in earnest, sir!" + +"Why not?" Mr. Weatherley demanded. "There's nothing against him, +is there?" + +"Nothing against him, precisely," Mr. Jarvis confessed, "but he's at +the lowest desk in the office, bar Smithers. His salary is only +twenty-eight shillings a week, and we know nothing whatever about +him except that his references were satisfactory. It isn't to be +supposed that he would feel at home in your house, sir. Now, with +Mr. Tidey, sir, it's quite different. They live in a very beautiful +house at Sydenham now--quite a small palace, in its way, I've been +told." + +Mr. Weatherley was getting a little impatient. + +"Send Chetwode out for a moment, anyway," he directed. "I'll speak +to him here." + +Mr. Jarvis obeyed in silence. He entered the office and touched the +young man in question upon the shoulder. + +"Mr. Weatherley wishes to speak to you outside, Chetwode," he +announced. "Make haste, please." + +Arnold Chetwode put down his pen and rose to his feet. There was +nothing flurried about his manner, nothing whatever to indicate on +his part any knowledge of the fact that this was the voice of Fate +beating upon his ear. He did not even show the ordinary interest of +a youthful employee summoned for the first time to an audience with +his chief. Standing for a moment by the side of the senior clerk in +the middle of the office, tall and straight, with deep brown hair, +excellent features, and the remnants of a healthy tan still visible +on his forehead and neck, he looked curiously out of place in this +unwholesome, gaslit building with its atmosphere of cheese and +bacon. He would have been noticeably good-looking upon the cricket +field or in any gathering of people belonging to the other side of +life. Here he seemed almost a curiously incongruous figure. He +passed through the glass-paned door and stood respectfully before +his employer. Mr. Weatherley--it was absurd, but he scarcely knew +how to make his suggestion--fidgetted for a moment and coughed. The +young man, who, among many other quite unusual qualities, was +possessed of a considerable amount of tact, looked down upon his +employer with a little well-assumed anxiety. As a matter of fact, he +really was exceedingly anxious not to lose his place. + +"I understood from Mr. Jarvis that you wished to speak to me, sir," +he remarked. "I hope that my work has given satisfaction? I know +that I am quite inexperienced but I don't think that I have made any +mistakes." + +Mr. Weatherley was, to tell the truth, thankful for the opening. + +"I have had no complaints, Chetwode," he admitted, struggling for +that note of condescension which he felt to be in order. "No +complaints at all. I was wondering if you--you happened to play +bridge?" + +Once more this extraordinary young man showed himself to be +possessed of gifts quite unusual at his age. Not by the flicker of +an eyelid did he show the least surprise or amusement. + +"Bridge, sir," he repeated. "Yes, I have played at--I have played +occasionally." + +"My wife is giving a small dinner-party this evening," Mr. +Weatherley continued, moving his umbrella from one hand to the other +and speaking very rapidly, "bridge afterwards. We happen to be a man +short. I was to have called at the club to try and pick up some +one--find I sha'n't have time--meeting at the Cannon Street Hotel to +attend. Would you--er--fill the vacant place? Save me the trouble of +looking about." + +It was out at last and Mr. Weatherley felt unaccountably relieved. +He felt at the same time a certain measure of annoyance with his +junior clerk for his unaltered composure. + +"I shall be very much pleased, sir," he answered, without +hesitation. "About eight, I suppose?" + +Again Mr. Weatherley's relief was tempered with a certain amount of +annoyance. This young man's _savoir faire_ was out of place. He +should have imagined a sort of high-tea supper at seven o'clock, and +been gently corrected by his courteous employer. As it was, Mr. +Weatherley felt dimly confident that this junior clerk of his was +more accustomed to eight o'clock dinners than he was himself. + +"A quarter to, to-night," he replied. "People coming for bridge +afterwards, you see. I live up Hampstead way--Pelham Lodge--quite +close to the tube station." + +Mr. Weatherley omitted the directions he had been about to give +respecting toilet, and turned away. His youthful employee's manners, +to the last, were all that could be desired. + +"I am much obliged to you, sir," he said. "I will take care to be +punctual." + +Mr. Weatherley grunted and walked out into the street. Here his +behavior was a little singular. He walked up toward London Bridge, +exchanging greetings with a good many acquaintances on the way. +Opposite the London & Westminster Bank he paused for a moment and +looked searchingly around. Satisfied that he was unobserved, he +stepped quickly into a very handsome motor car which was drawn up +close to the curb, and with a sigh of relief sat as far back among +the cushions as possible and held the tube to his mouth. + +"Get along home," he ordered, tersely. + + * * * * * + +Arnold Chetwode, after his interview with his employer, returned +unruffled to his place. Mr. Jarvis bustled in after him. He was +annoyed, but he wished to conceal the fact. Besides, he still had an +arrow in his quiver. He came and stood over his subordinate. + +"Congratulate you, I'm sure, Chetwode," he said smoothly. "First +time any one except myself has been to the house since Mr. +Weatherley's marriage." + +Mr. Jarvis had taken the letters there one morning when his employer +had been unwell, and had waited in the hall. He did not, however, +mention that fact. + +"Indeed?" Chetwode murmured, with his eye upon his work. + +"You understand, of course," Mr. Jarvis continued, "that it will be +an evening-dress affair. Mrs. Weatherley has the name of being very +particular." + +He glanced covertly at the young man, who was already immersed in +his work. + +"Evening dress," Chetwode remarked, with a becoming show of +interest. "Well, I dare say I can manage something. If I wear a +black coat and a white silk bow, and stick a red handkerchief in +underneath my waistcoat, I dare say I shall be all right. Mr. +Weatherley can't expect much from me in that way, can he?" + +The senior clerk was secretly delighted. It was not for him to +acquaint this young countryman with the necessities of London life. +He turned away and took up a bundle of letters. + +"Can't say, I'm sure, what the governor expects," he replied, +falsely. "You'll have to do the best you can, I suppose. Better get +on with those invoices now." + +Once more the office resounded to the hum of its varied labors. Mr. +Jarvis, dictating letters to a typist, smiled occasionally as he +pictured the arrival of this over-favored young man in the +drawing-room of Mrs. Weatherley, attired in the nondescript fashion +which his words had suggested. One or two of the clerks ventured +upon a chaffing remark. To all appearance, the person most absorbed +in his work was the young man who had been singled out for such +especial favor. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +RUTH + + +In the topmost chamber of the last of a row of somber gray stone +houses in Adam Street a girl with a thin but beautiful face and +large, expectant eyes sat close to the bare, uncurtained window, +from which it was possible to command a view of the street below. A +book which she had apparently been reading had fallen neglected onto +the floor. Steadfastly she watched the passers-by. Her delicate, +expressive features were more than once illuminated with joy, only +to be clouded, a moment later, with disappointment. The color came +and went in her cheeks, as though, indeed, she were more sensitive +than her years. Occasionally she glanced around at the clock. Time +dragged so slowly in that great bare room with its obvious touch of +poverty! + +At last a tall figure came striding along the pavement below. This +time no mistake was possible. There was a fluttering handkerchief +from above, an answering wave of the hand. The girl drew a sigh of +inexpressible content, moved away from the window and faced the +door, with lifted head waiting for the sound of footsteps upon the +stairs. They arrived at last. The door was thrown open. Arnold +Chetwode came hastily across the room and gripped the two hands +which were held out to him. Then he bent down and kissed her +forehead. + +"Dear little Ruth!" he exclaimed. "I hope you were careful crossing +the landing?" + +The girl leaned back in her chair. Her eyes were fixed anxiously +upon his face. She completely ignored his question. + +"The news at once!" she insisted. "Tell me, Arnold!" + +He was a little taken aback. + +"How did you know that I had any?" + +She smiled delightfully. + +"Know, indeed! I knew it directly I saw you, I knew it every time +your foot touched the stairs. What is it, Arnold? The cheeses didn't +smell so bad to-day? Or you've had a rise? Quick! I must hear all +about it." + +"You shall," Arnold replied. "It is a wonderful story. Listen. Have +you ever heard the fable of Dick Whittington?" + +"Married his employer's daughter, of course. What's she like, +Arnold? Have you seen her? Did you save her life? When are you going +to see her again?" + +Chetwode was already on his knees, dragging out an old trunk from +underneath the faded cupboard. Suddenly he paused with a gesture of +despair. + +"Alas!" he exclaimed. "My dream fades away. Old Weatherley was +married only last year. Consequently, his daughter--" + +"He can't have one," she interrupted, ruthlessly. "Tell me the news +at once?" + +"I am going to dine with old Weatherley," he announced. + +The girl smiled, a little wistfully. + +"How funny! But you will get a good dinner, won't you, Arnold? Eat +ever so much, dear. Yesterday I fancied that you were getting thin. +I do wish I could see what you have in the middle of the day." + +"Little mother!" he laughed. "To-day I gorged myself on poached +eggs. What did Isaac give you?" + +"Mutton stew and heaps of it," the girl replied, quickly. "To-night +I shall have a bowl of milk as soon as you are gone. Have you +everything you ought to have to wear, Arnold?" + +"Everything," he declared, rising to his feet with a sigh of relief. +"It's so long since I looked at my clothes that to tell you the +truth I was a little bit anxious. They may be old-fashioned, but +they came from a good man to start with." + +"What made Mr. Weatherley ask you?" she demanded. + +"Wanted one of his clerks to fill up and found that I played +bridge," Arnold answered. "It's rather a bore, isn't it? But, after +all, he is my employer." + +"Of course you must go and behave your very nicest. Tell me, when +have you to start?" + +"I ought to be changing in a quarter of an hour. What shall we do +till then?" + +"Whatever you like," she murmured. + +"I am coming to sit at the window with you," he said. "We'll look +down at the river and you shall tell me stories about the ships." + +She laughed and took his hand as he dragged a chair over to her +side. He put his arm around her and her head fell naturally back +upon his shoulder. Her eyes sought his. He was leaning forward, +gazing down between the curving line of lamp-posts, across the belt +of black river with its flecks of yellow light. But Ruth watched him +only. + +"Arnie," she whispered in his ear, "there are no fairy ships upon +the river to-night." + +He smiled. + +"Why not, little one? You have only to close your eyes." + +Slowly she shook her head. + +"Don't think that I am foolish, dear," she begged. "To-night I +cannot look upon the river at all. I feel that there is something +new here--here in this room. The great things are here, Arnold. I +can feel life hammering and throbbing in the air. We aren't in a +garret any longer, dear. It's a fairy palace. Listen. Can't you hear +the people shout, and the music, and the fountains playing? Can't +you see the dusky walls fall back, the marble pillars, the lights in +the ceiling?" + +He turned his head. He found himself, indeed, listening, found +himself almost disappointed to hear nothing but the far-off, eternal +roar of the city, and the melancholy grinding of a hurdy-gurdy +below. Always she carried him away by her intense earnestness, the +bewitching softness of her voice, even when it was galleons full of +treasure that she saw, with blood-red sails, coming up the river, +full of treasure for them. To-night her voice had more than its +share of inspiration, her fancies clung to her feverishly. + +"Be careful, Arnold," she murmured. "To-night means a change. There +is something new coming. I can feel it coming in my heart." + +Her face was drawn and pale. He laughed down into her eyes. + +"Little lady," he reminded her, mockingly, "I am going to dine with +my cheesemonger employer." + +She shook her head dreamily. She refused to be dragged down. + +"There's something beating in the air," she continued. "It came into +the room with you. Don't you feel it? Can't you feel that you are +going to a tragedy? Life is going to be different, Arnold, to be +different always." + +He drew himself up. A flicker of passion flamed in his own deep gray +eyes. + +"Different, child? Of course it's going to be different. If there +weren't something else in front, do you think one could live? Do you +think one could be content to struggle through this miserable +quagmire if one didn't believe that there was something else on the +other side of the hill?" + +She sighed, and her fingers touched his. + +"I forgot," she said simply. "You see, there was a time when I +hadn't you. You lifted me out of my quagmire." + +"Not high enough, dear," he answered, caressingly. "Some day I'll +take you over to Berlin or Vienna, or one of those wonderful places. +We'll leave Isaac to grub along and sow red fire in Hyde Park. We'll +find the doctors. We shall teach you to walk again without that +stick. No more gloominess, please." + +She pressed his hand tightly. + +"Dear Arnold!" she whispered softly. + +"Turn around and watch the river with me, little one," he begged. +"See the lights on the barges, how slowly they move. What is there +behind that one, I wonder?" + +Her eyes followed his finger without enthusiasm. + +"I can't look out of the room to-night, Arnold," she said. "The +fancies won't come. Promise me one thing." + +"I promise," he agreed. + +"Tell me everything--don't keep anything back." + +"On my honor," he declared, smiling. "I will bring the menu of the +dinner, if there is one, and a photograph of Mrs. Cheesemonger if I +can steal it. Now I am going to help you back into your room." + +"Don't bother," she begged. "Open the door and I can get there quite +easily." + +He set the door open and, crossing the bare stone landing, opened +the door of another room, similar to his. They were somber +apartments at the top of the deserted house, which had once been a +nobleman's residence. The doors were still heavy, though blistered +with time and lack of varnish. There were the remains of paneling +upon the wall and frescoes upon the ceiling. + +"Come and see me before you go," she pleaded. "I am all alone. Isaac +has gone to a meeting somewhere." + +He promised and returned to his own apartment. With the help of a +candle which he stuck upon the mantelpiece, and a cracked mirror, he +first of all shaved, then disappeared for a few minutes behind a +piece of faded curtain and washed vigorously. Afterwards he changed +his clothes, putting on a dress suit produced from the trunk. When +he had finished, he stepped back and laughed softly to himself. His +clothes were well cut. His studs, which had very many times been on +the point of visiting the pawnbroker's, were correct and good. He +was indeed an incongruous figure as he stood there and, with a +candle carefully held away from him in his hand, looked at his own +reflection. For some reason or other, he was feeling elated. Ruth's +words had lingered in his brain. One could never tell which way +fortune might come! + +He found her waiting in the darkness. Her long arms were wound for a +moment around his neck, a sudden passion shook her. + +"Arnold--dear Arnold," she sobbed, "you are going into the +storm--and I want to go! I want to go, too! My hands are cold, and +my heart. Take me with you, dear!" + +He was a little startled. It was not often that she was hysterical. +He looked down into her convulsed face. She choked for a moment, and +then, although it was not altogether a successful effort, she +laughed. + +"Don't mind me," she begged. "I am a little mad to-night. I think +that the twilight here has got upon my nerves. Light the lamp, +please. Light the lamp and leave me alone for a moment while you do +it." + +He obeyed, fetching some matches from his own room and setting the +lamp, when it was lit, on the table by her side. There were no tears +left in her eyes now. Her lips were tremulous, but an unusual spot +of color was burning in her cheeks. While he had been dressing, he +saw that she had tied a piece of deep blue ribbon, the color he +liked best, around her hair. + +"See, I am myself now. Good night and good luck to you, Arnold! Eat +a good dinner, mind, and remember your promise." + +"There is nothing more that I can do for you?" he asked. + +"Nothing," she replied. "Besides, I can hear Uncle Isaac coming." + +The door was suddenly opened. A thin, undersized man in worn black +clothes, and with a somber hat of soft black felt still upon his +head, came into the room. His dark hair was tinged with gray, he +walked with a pronounced stoop. In his shabby clothes, fitting +loosely upon his diminutive body, he should have been an +insignificant figure, but somehow or other he was nothing of the +sort. His thin lips curved into a discontented droop. His cheeks +were hollow and his eyes shone with the brightness of the fanatic. +Arnold greeted him familiarly. + +"Hullo, Isaac!" he exclaimed. "You are just in time to save Ruth +from being left all alone." + +The newcomer came to a standstill. He looked the speaker over from +head to foot with an expression of growing disgust, and he spat upon +the floor. + +"What livery's that?" he demanded. + +Arnold laughed good-naturedly. + +"Come, Isaac," he protested, "I don't often inflict it upon you, do +I? It's something that belongs to the world on the other side, you +know. We all of us have to look over the fence now and then. I have +to cross the borderland to-night for an hour or so." + +Isaac threw open the door by which he had entered. + +"Get out of here," he ordered. "If you were one of us, I'd call you +a traitor for wearing the rags. As it is, I say that no one is +welcomed under my roof who looks as you look now. Why, d--n it, I +believe you're a gentleman!" + +Arnold laughed softly. + +"My dear Isaac," he retorted, "I am as I was born and made. You +can't blame me for that, can you? Besides,--" + +He broke off suddenly. A little murmur from the girl behind +reminded him of her presence. He passed on to the door. + +"Good night, Isaac," he said. "Look after Ruth. She's lonely +to-night." + +"I'll look after her," was the grim reply. "As for you, get you +gone. There was one of your sort came to the meeting of Jameson's +moulders this afternoon. He had a question to ask and I answered +him. He wanted to know wherein wealth was a sin, and I told him." + +Arnold Chetwode was young and his sense of humor triumphant. He +turned on the threshold and looked into the shadowy room, dimly lit +with its cheap lamp. He kissed his hands to Ruth. + +"My dear Isaac," he declared, lightly, "you are talking like an ass. +I have two shillings and a penny ha'penny in my pocket, which has to +last me till Saturday, and I earn my twenty-eight shillings a week +in old Weatherley's counting-house as honestly as you earn your wage +by thundering from Labor platforms and articles in the _Clarion_. My +clothes are part of the livery of civilization. The journalist who +reports a Lord Mayor's dinner has to wear them. Some day, when +you've got your seat in Parliament, you'll wear them yourself. Good +night!" + +He paused before closing the door. Ruth's kiss came wafted to him +from the shadows where her great eyes were burning like stars. Her +uncle had turned his back upon him. The word he muttered sounded +like a malediction, but Arnold Chetwode went down the stone steps +blithely. It was an untrodden land, this, into which he was to pass. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +ARNOLD SCENTS MYSTERY + + +From the first, nothing about that evening was as Arnold had +expected. He took the tube to Hampstead station, and, the night +being dry, he walked to Pelham Lodge without detriment to his +carefully polished patent shoes. The neighborhood was entirely +strange to him and he was surprised to find that the house which was +pointed out to him by a policeman was situated in grounds of not +inconsiderable extent, and approached by a short drive. Directly he +rang the bell he was admitted not by a flamboyant parlormaid but by +a quiet, sad-faced butler in plain, dark livery, who might have been +major-domo to a duke. The house was even larger than he had +expected, and was handsomely furnished in an extremely subdued +style. It was dimly, almost insufficiently lit, and there was a +faint but not unpleasant odor in the drawing-room which reminded him +of incense. The room itself almost took his breath away. It was +entirely French. The hangings, carpet and upholstery were all of a +subdued rose color and white. Arnold, who was, for a young man, +exceedingly susceptible to impressions, looked around him with an +air almost of wonder. It was fortunate, perhaps, that the room was +empty. + +"Mr. and Mrs. Weatherley will be downstairs in one moment, sir," +the man announced. "Mr. Weatherley was a little late home from the +city." + +Arnold nodded and stood upon the hearthrug, looking around him. He +was quite content to spend a few moments alone, to admire the +drooping clusters of roses, the elegance with which every article of +furniture and appointment of the room seemed to fit into its place. +Somehow or other, too, nothing appeared new. Everything seemed +subdued by time into its proper tone. He began to wonder what sort +of woman the presiding genius over such perfection could be. Then, +with a quaint transition of thought, he remembered the little +counting-house in Tooley Street, the smell of cheeses, and Mr. +Weatherley's half-nervous invitation. His lips twitched and he began +to smile. These things seemed to belong to a world so far away. + +Presently he heard footsteps outside and voices. The door was opened +but the person outside did not immediately enter. Apparently she had +turned round to listen to the man who was still some distance +behind. Arnold recognized his employer's voice. + +"I am sorry that you are displeased, my dear Fenella, but I assure +you that I did the best I could. It is true that the young man is in +my office, but I am convinced that you will find him presentable." + +A peal of the softest and most musical laughter that Arnold had +ever heard in his life effectually stopped Mr. Weatherley's +protestations. Yet, for all its softness and for all its music, +there was a different note underneath, something a little bitter, +unutterably scornful. + +"My dear Samuel, it is true, without doubt, that you did your best. +I do not blame you at all. It was I who was foolish to leave such a +matter in your hands. It was not likely that among your +acquaintances there was one whom I would have cared to welcome to my +house. But that you should have gone to your employees--that, +indeed, is funny! You do amuse me very much. Come." + +The door was pushed fully open now and a woman entered, at the sight +of whom Arnold forgot all his feelings of mingled annoyance and +amusement. She was of little over the medium height, exceedingly +slim--a slimness which was accentuated by the fashion of the gown +she wore. Her face was absolutely devoid of color, but her features +were almost cameo-like in their sensitive perfection. Her eyes were +large and soft and brown, her hair a Titian red, worn low and +without ornament. Her dress was of pale blue satin, which somehow +had the effect of being made in a single piece, without seam or +joining. Her neck and throat, exquisitely white, were bare except +for a single necklace of pearls which reached almost to her knees. +The look in Arnold's face, as she came slowly into the room, was one +of frank and boyish admiration. The woman came towards him with a +soft smile about her lips, but she was evidently puzzled. It was Mr. +Weatherley who spoke. There was something almost triumphant in his +manner. + +"This is Mr. Chetwode, dear, of whom I was speaking to you," he +said. "Glad to see you, Chetwode," he added, with ponderous +condescension. + +The woman laughed softly as she held out her hand. + +"Are you going to pretend that you were deaf, to forgive me and be +friends, Mr. Chetwode?" she asked, looking up at him. "One foggy +day my husband took me to Tooley Street, and I did not believe that +anything good could come out of the yellow fog and the mud and the +smells. It was my ignorance. You heard, but you do not mind? I am +sure that you do not mind?" + +"Not a bit in the world," Arnold answered, still holding the hand +which she seemed to have forgotten to draw away, and smiling down +into her upturned face. "I was awfully sorry to overhear but you see +I couldn't very well help it, could I?" + +"Of course you could not help it," she replied. "I am so glad that +you came and I hope that we can make it pleasant for you. I will try +and send you in to dinner with some one very charming." + +She laughed at him understandingly as his lips parted and closed +again without speech. Then she turned away to welcome some other +guests, who were at that moment announced. Arnold stood in the +background for a few minutes. Presently she came back to him. + +"Do you know any one here?" she asked. + +"No one," he answered. + +She dropped her voice almost to a whisper. Arnold bent his head and +listened with a curious pleasure to her little stream of words. + +"It is a strange mixture of people whom you see here," she said, "a +mixture, perhaps, of the most prosaic and the most romantic. The +Count Sabatini, whom you see talking to my husband, is my brother. +He is a person who lives in the flood of adventures. He has taken +part in five wars, he has been tried more than once for political +offenses. He has been banished from what is really our native +country, Portugal, with a price set upon his head. He has an estate +upon which nothing grows, and a castle with holes in the roof in +which no one could dwell. Yet he lives--oh, yes, he lives!" + +Arnold looked across at the man of whom she was speaking--gaunt and +olive-skinned, with deep-set eyes and worn face. He had still some +share of his sister's good looks and he held himself as a man of his +race should. + +"I think I should like your brother," Arnold declared. "Will he talk +about his campaigns?" + +"Perhaps," she murmured, "although there is one about which you +would not care to hear. He fought with the Boers, but we will not +speak of that. Mr. and Mrs. Horsman there I shall say nothing about. +Imagine for yourself where they belong." + +"They are your husband's friends," he decided, unhesitatingly. + +"You are a young man of great perceptions," she replied. "I am going +to like you, I am sure. Come, there is Mr. Starling standing by the +door. What do you think of him?" + +Arnold glanced across the room. Mr. Starling was apparently a +middle-aged man--clean-shaven, with pale cheeks and somewhat narrow +eyes. + +"An American, without a doubt," Arnold remarked. + +"Quite right. Now the lady in the gray satin with the wonderful +coiffure--she has looked at you already more than once. Her name is +Lady Blennington, and she is always trying to discover new young +men." + +Arnold glanced at her deliberately and back again at his hostess. + +"There is nothing for me to say about her," he declared. + +"You are wonderful," she murmured. "That is so exactly what one +feels about Lady Blennington. Then there is Lady Templeton--that +fluffy little thing behind my husband. She looks rather as though +she had come out of a toy shop, does she not?" + +"She looks nice," Arnold admitted. "I knew--" + +She glanced up at him and waited. Arnold, however, had stopped +short. + +"You have not yet told me," he said, "the name of the man who stands +alone near the door--the one with the little piece of red ribbon in +his coat?" + +It seemed to him that, for some reason, the presence of that +particular person affected her. He was a plump little man, sleek and +well-dressed, with black hair, very large pearl studs, black +moustache and imperial. Mrs. Weatherley stood quite still for a +moment. Perhaps, he thought, she was listening to the conversation +around them. + +"The man's name is Rosario," she replied. "He is a financier and a +man of fashion. Another time you must tell me what you think of him, +but I warn you that it will not be so easy as with those others, for +he is also a man of schemes. I am sorry, but I must send you in now +with Mrs. Horsman, who is much too amiable to be anything else but +dull. You shall come with me and I will introduce you." + +Dinner was announced almost at that moment. Arnold, keen to enjoy, +with all the love of new places and the enthusiasm of youth in his +veins, found every moment of the meal delightful. They took their +places at a round table with shaded lights artistically arranged, so +that they seemed to be seated before a little oasis of flowers and +perfumes in the midst of a land of shadows. He found his companion +pleasant and sympathetic. She had a son about his age who was going +soon into the city and about whom she talked incessantly. On his +left, Lady Blennington made frank attempts to engage him in +conversation whenever an opportunity arose. Arnold felt his spirits +rise with every moment. He laughed and talked the whole of the time, +devoting himself with very little intermission to one or the other +of his two neighbors. Mr. Weatherley, who was exceedingly +uncomfortable and found it difficult even to remember his few staple +openings, looked across the table more than once in absolute wonder +that this young man who, earning a wage of twenty-eight shillings a +week, and occupying almost the bottom stool in his office, could yet +be entirely and completely at his ease in this exalted company. More +than once Arnold caught his hostess's eye, and each time he felt, +for some unknown reason, a little thrill of pleasure at the faint +relaxing of her lips, the glance of sympathy which shone across the +roses. Life was a good place, he thought to himself, for these few +hours, at any rate. And then, as he leaned back in his place for a +moment, Ruth's words seemed suddenly traced with a finger of fire +upon the dim wall. To-night was to be a night of mysteries. To-night +the great adventure was to be born. He glanced around the table. +There was, indeed, an air of mystery about some of these guests, +something curiously aloof, something which it was impossible to put +into words. The man Starling, for instance, seemed queerly placed +here. Count Sabatini was another of the guests who seemed somehow to +be outside the little circle. For minutes together he sat sometimes +in grim silence. About him, too, there was always a curious air of +detachment. Rosario was making the small conversation with his +neighbor which the occasion seemed to demand, but he, too, appeared +to talk as one who had more weighty matters troubling his brain. It +was a fancy of Arnold's, perhaps, but it was a fancy of which he +could not rid himself. He glanced towards his employer and a curious +feeling of sympathy stirred him. The man was unhappy and ill at +ease. He had lost his air of slight pomposity, the air with which he +entered his offices in the morning, strutted about the warehouse, +went out to lunch with a customer, and which he somehow seemed to +lose as the time came for returning to his home. Once or twice he +glanced towards his wife, half nervously, half admiringly. Once she +nodded back to him, but it was the nod of one who gathers up her +skirts as she throws alms to a beggar. Then Arnold realized that his +little fit of thoughtfulness had made a material difference to the +hum of conversation. He remembered his duty and leaned over toward +Lady Blennington. + +"You promised to tell me more about some of these people," he +reminded her. "I am driven to make guesses all the time. Why does +Mr. Starling look so much like an unwilling and impatient guest? And +where is the castle of the Count Sabatini which has no roof?" + +Lady Blennington sighed. + +"This table is much too small for us to indulge in scandal," she +replied. "It really is such a pity. One so seldom meets any one +worth talking to who doesn't know everything there is that shouldn't +be known about everybody. About Count Sabatini, for instance, I +could tell you some most amusing things." + +"His castle, perhaps, is in the air?" Arnold inquired. + +"By no means," Lady Blennington assured him. + +"On the contrary, it is very much upon the rocks. Some little island +near Minorca, I believe. They say that Mr. Weatherley was wrecked +there and Sabatini locked him up in a dungeon and refused to let him +go until he promised to marry his sister." + +"There are a good many men in the world, I should think," Arnold +murmured, "who would like to be locked up on similar conditions." + +She looked at him with a queer little smile. + +"I suppose it is inevitable," she declared. "You will have to go +through it, too. She certainly is one of the loveliest women I ever +saw. I suppose you are already convinced that she is entirely +adorable?" + +"She has been very kind to me," Arnold replied. + +"She would be," Lady Blennington remarked, dryly. "Look at her +husband. The poor man ought to have known better than to have +married her, of course, but do you think that he looks even +reasonably happy?" + +Arnold was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable. He was conscious +of a strong desire not to discuss his hostess. Yet his curiosity was +immense. He asked one question. + +"Tell me," he said, "if she came from this little island in the +Mediterranean, why does she speak English so perfectly?" + +"She was educated in England," Lady Blennington told him. +"Afterwards, her brother took her to South America. She had some +small fortune, I believe, but when she came back they were +penniless. They were really living as small market gardeners when +Mr. Weatherley found them." + +"You don't like her," he remarked. "I wonder why?" + +Lady Blennington shook her head. + +"One never knows," she replied. "I admire her, if that is anything." + +"But you do not like her," he persisted. + +She shrugged her shoulders slightly. + +"I am afraid it is true," she agreed. + +"You admit that and yet you are willing to be her guest?" + +She smiled at him approvingly. + +"If there is one masculine quality which I do appreciate," she said, +"it is directness. I come because I love bridge and because I love +my fellow-creatures and because my own friends are none too +numerous. With the exception of those worthy friends of our host and +his wife who are seated upon your right--Mr. and Mrs. Horsman, I +believe they are called--we are all of the same ilk. Mr. Starling no +one knows anything about; Count Sabatini's record is something +awful." + +"But there is Rosario," Arnold protested. + +"Rosario goes into all the odd corners of the world," she replied. +"Sometimes the corners are respectable and sometimes they are not. +It really doesn't matter so far as he is concerned. Supposing, in +return for all this information, you tell me something about +yourself?" + +"There isn't anything to tell," Arnold assured her. "I was asked +here to fill up. I am an employee of Mr. Weatherley's." + +She turned in her chair to look at him. Her surprise was obvious. + +"Do you mean that you are his secretary, or something of that +sort?" she demanded. + +"I am a clerk in his office," Arnold told her. + +She was evidently puzzled, but she asked him no more questions. At +that moment Mrs. Weatherley rose from her place. As she passed +Arnold she paused for a moment. + +"You are all coming in five minutes," she said. "Before we play +bridge, come straight to me. I have something to say to you." + +He bowed and resumed his seat, from which he had risen quickly at +her coming. Mr. Weatherley motioned to him to move up to his side. +His face now was a little flushed, but his nervousness had not +disappeared. He was certainly not the same man whom one met at +Tooley Street. + +"Glad to see you've made friends with the wife, Chetwode," he said. +"She seems to have taken quite a fancy to you." + +"Mrs. Weatherley has been very kind," Arnold answered. + +"Enjoying yourself, I hope?" Mr. Weatherley asked. + +"Very much indeed," Arnold declared. "It has been quite a treat for +me." + +Sabatini and Starling were talking earnestly together at the other +side of the table. Rosario, bringing his wine down, came and sat at +his host's other side. + +"Beautiful vintage, this, Mr. Weatherley," he said. "Excellent +condition, too." + +Mr. Weatherley, obviously pleased, pursued the subject. In a way, it +was almost pathetic to see his pleasure in being addressed by one of +his own guests. Arnold drew a little away and looked across the +banks of roses. There was something fascinating to him in the +unheard conversation of Sabatini and Starling, on the opposite side +of the table. Everything they said was in an undertone and the +inexpressive faces of the two men gave no indication as to the +nature of their conversation. Yet the sense of something mysterious +in this house and among these guests was growing all the time with +Arnold. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE FACE AT THE WINDOW + + +Mr. Weatherley laid his hand upon his young companion's arm as they +crossed the hall on their way from the dining-room. + +"We are going to play bridge in the music-room," he announced. +"Things are different, nowadays, than when I was a boy. The men and +the women, too, have to smoke cigarettes all the time while they +play cards. A bad habit, Chetwode! A very bad habit indeed! I've +nothing to say against a good Havana cigar in the dining-room or the +smoking-room, but this constant cigarette smoking sickens me. I +can't bear the smell of the things. Here we are. I don't know what +table my wife has put you at, I'm sure. She arranges all these +things herself." + +Several guests who had arrived during the last few minutes were +already playing at various tables. Mrs. Weatherley was moving about, +directing the proceedings. She came across to them as soon as they +entered, and, laying her hand upon Arnold's arm, drew him on one +side. There was a smile still upon her lips but trouble in her eyes. +She looked over her shoulder a little nervously and Arnold half +unconsciously followed the direction of her gaze. Rosario was +standing apart from the others, talking earnestly with Starling. + +"I want you to stay with me, if you please," she said. "I am not +sure where you will play, but there is no hurry. I myself shall not +sit down at present. There are others to arrive." + +Her brother, who had been talking languidly to Lady Blennington, +came slowly up to them. + +"You, Andrea, will wait for the baccarat, of course?" she said. "I +know that this sort of bridge does not amuse you." + +He answered her with a little shrug of the shoulders and, leaning +towards her, spoke a few words in some tongue which Arnold did not +at once recognize. She looked again over her shoulder at Rosario and +her face clouded. She replied in the same tongue. Arnold would have +moved away, but she detained him. + +"You must not mind," she said softly, "that my brother and I talk +sometimes in our native language. You do not, by chance, know +Portuguese, Mr. Chetwode?" + +"Not a word," he replied. + +"I am going to leave all these people to amuse themselves," she +continued, dropping her voice slightly. "I want you to come with me +for a moment, Mr. Chetwode. You must take care that you do not slip. +These wooden floors are almost dangerous. I did give a dance here +once," she continued, as they made their way across the room, +talking a little vaguely and with an obvious effort. "I did not +enjoy it at all. To me the style of dancing in this country seems +ungraceful. Look behind, Mr. Chetwode. Tell me, is Mr. Rosario +following us?" + +Arnold glanced over his shoulder. Rosario was still standing in the +same place, but he was watching them intently. + +"He is looking after us, but he has not moved," Arnold announced. + +"It is better for him that he stays there," Mrs. Weatherley said +softly. "Please come." + +At the further end of the apartment there was a bend to the left. +Mrs. Weatherley led the way around the corner into a small recess, +out of sight of the remainder of the people. Here she paused and, +holding up her finger, looked around. Her head was thrown back, the +trouble still gleamed in her eyes. She listened intently to the hum +of voices, as though trying to distinguish those she knew. +Satisfied, apparently, that their disappearance had not occasioned +any comment, she moved forward again, motioned Arnold to open a +door, and led him down a long passage to the front of the house. +Here she opened the door of an apartment on the left-hand side of +the hall, and almost pushed him in. She closed the door quickly +behind them. Then she held up her finger. + +"Listen!" she said. + +They could hear nothing save the distant murmur of voices in the +music-room. The room which they had entered was in complete +darkness, through which the ivory pallor of her arms and face, and +the soft fire of her eyes, seemed to be the only things visible. She +was standing quite close to him. He could hear her breathing, he +could almost fancy that he heard her heart beat. A strand of hair +even touched his cheek as she moved. + +"I do not wish to turn the light up for a moment," she whispered. +"You do not mind?" + +"I mind nothing," Arnold answered, bewildered. "Are you afraid of +anything? Is there anything I can do?" + +A sense of excitement was stirring him. + +"Just do as I ask, that is all," she murmured. "I want to look +outside a moment. Just do as I ask and keep quiet." + +She stole from him to the window and, moving the curtain a few +inches, knelt down, peering out. She remained there motionless for a +full minute. Then she rose to her feet and came back. His eyes were +becoming more accustomed to the gloom now and he could see the +outline of her figure as she moved towards him. + +"Take my place there," she whispered. "Look down the drive. Tell me +whether you can see any one watching the house?" + +He went down on his knees at the place she indicated and peered +through the parted curtain. For a few seconds he could see nothing; +then, as his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he discerned two +motionless figures standing on the left-hand side of the drive, +partly concealed by a tall laurel bush. + +"I believe," he declared hoarsely, "that there are two men standing +there." + +"Tell me, are they moving?" she demanded. + +"They seem to be simply watching the house," he replied. + +She was silent. He could hear her breath come and go. + +"They still do not move?" she asked, after a few seconds. + +He shook his head, and she turned away, listening to some footsteps +in the hall. + +"Remember," she whispered, "I am standing where I can turn on the +light in a moment. If any one comes, you are here to see my South +American curios. This is my own sitting-room. You understand?" + +"I understand," he assented. "Whatever you tell me to say, I will +say." + +She seemed to be gathering courage. She laughed very softly, as +though amused at his earnestness. There was little enough of mirth +in her laughter, yet somehow it gave him heart. + +"What do these men want?" he asked. "Would you like me to go out and +send them away?" + +"No," she replied. "I do not wish you to leave me." + +"But they are terrifying you," he protested. "What right have they +in your garden? They are here, perhaps, as thieves." + +"Hush!" + +She sprang away from him. The room was suddenly flooded with light. +She was leaning with her arm upon the mantelpiece, a statuette of +black ivory in her hand. + +"If you are really fond of this sort of thing," she began, "you +should come with me to the South Kensington Museum one day--Who is +that?" + +The door had opened. It was Mr. Weatherley who appeared. Mr. +Weatherley was distinctly fussy and there was some return of his +pompous manner. + +"My dear Fenella!" he exclaimed. "What on earth are you doing in +here, with half your bridge tables as yet unarranged? Your guests +are wondering what has become of you." + +"Has any one fresh turned up?" she asked, setting down the +statuette. + +"A Lady Raynham has just arrived," Mr. Weatherley replied, "and is +making herself very disagreeable because there is no one to tell her +at which table she is to play. I heard a young man who came with +her, too, asking Parkins what time supper was. I do not wish to +criticize the manners of your guests, but really, my dear Fenella, +some of them do seem to have strange ideas." + +"Lady Raynham," she remarked, coldly, "is a person who should be +glad to find herself under any respectable roof without making +complaints. Mr. Chetwode," she continued, turning to him, "it is my +wish to finish showing you my treasures. Therefore, will you wait +here, please, for a short time, while I go and start another bridge +table? I shall return quite soon. Come, Samuel." + +Mr. Weatherley coughed. He seemed unwilling to leave Arnold behind. + +"I dare say young Chetwode would like a hand at bridge himself, my +dear," he protested. + +"Mr. Chetwode shall have one later on," she promised. "I think that +very likely he will play at my table. Come." + +They left the room together. She looked back for a moment before, +they disappeared and Arnold felt his heart give a little jump. She +was certainly the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and +there was something in her treatment of him, the subtle flattery of +her half appealing confidence, which went to his head like wine. The +door closed and he was left alone. He listened to their departing +footsteps. Then he looked around him, for the first time forming +some idea of his surroundings. He was in a very charming, +comfortable-looking apartment, with deep easy-chairs, a divan +covered with luxurious cushions, numbers of little tables covered +with photographs and flowers, a great bowl of hot-house roses, and +an oak cabinet with an oak background in the further corner of the +room, which was packed with curios. After his first brief +inspection, however, he felt scarcely any curiosity as to the +contents of the room. It was the window which drew him always +towards It. Once more he peered through the chink of the curtains. +He had not cared to turn out the lights, however, and for several +moments everything was indistinguishable. Then he saw that the two +figures still remained in very nearly the same position, except that +they had drawn, if anything, a little closer to the house. + +A tiny clock upon the mantelpiece was ticking away the seconds. +Arnold had no idea how long he remained there watching. Suddenly, +however, he received a shock. For some time he had fancied that one +of the two figures had disappeared altogether, and now, outside on +the window-sill, scarcely a couple of feet from the glass through +which he was looking, a man's hand appeared and gripped the +window-sill. He stared at it, fascinated. It was so close to him +that he could see the thin, yellow fingers, on one of which was a +signet ring with a blood-red stone; the misshapen knuckles, the +broken nails. He was on the point of throwing up the window when a +man's face shot up from underneath and peered into the room. There +was only the thickness of the glass between them, and the light from +the gas lamp which stood at the corner of the drive fell full upon +the white, strained features and the glittering black eyes which +stared into the room. The chink of the curtain through which Arnold +was gazing was barely an inch wide; but it was sufficient. For a +moment he stared at the man. Then he threw the curtains open and +stooped to unfasten the window. It was the affair of a few seconds +only to throw it up. To his surprise, the man did not move. Their +faces almost touched. + +"What the devil do you want?" Arnold exclaimed, gripping him by the +arm. + +The man did not flinch. He inclined his head towards the interior of +the room. + +"Rosario, the Jew," he answered thickly. "He is in the house there. +Will you take him a message?" + +"Ring at the door and bring it yourself," Arnold retorted. + +The man laughed contemptuously. He stared at Arnold for a moment and +seemed to realize for the first time that he was a stranger. + +"You are a fool to meddle in things you know nothing of!" he +muttered. + +"I know you've no right where you are," said Arnold, "and I shall +keep you until some one comes." + +The intruder made a sudden dive, freeing himself with an +extraordinary turn of the wrist. Arnold caught a glimpse of his face +as he slunk away. While he hesitated whether to follow him, he heard +the door open and the soft rustle of a woman's skirts. + +"What are you doing out there, Mr. Chetwode?" + +He turned around. Mrs. Weatherley was standing just behind him, +leaning also out of the window, with a little halo of light about +her head. For a moment he was powerless to answer. Her head was +thrown back, her lips parted. She seemed to be listening as well as +watching. There was fear in her eyes as she looked at him, yet she +made the most beautiful picture he had ever seen. He pulled himself +together. + +"Well?" she asked, breathlessly. + +"I was waiting here for you," he explained. "I looked through the +curtains. Then I saw a man's hand upon the sill." + + [Illustration: "I was waiting here for you," he explained. + _Page 39_.] + +Her hand shot to her side. + +"Go on," she whispered. + +"I saw his face," Arnold continued. "It was pressed close to the +window. It was as though he meant to enter. I threw the curtains +back, opened the window, and gripped him by the arm. I asked him +what he wanted." + +She sat down in a chair and began to tremble. + +"He said he wanted Rosario, the Jew," Arnold went on. "Then, when he +found that I was a stranger, he got away. I don't know how he +managed it, for my fingers are strong enough, but he wrenched +himself free somehow." + +"Look out once more," she implored. "See if he is anywhere around. I +will speak to him." + +He stood at the window and looked in every direction. + +"There is no one in sight," he declared. "I will go to the corner of +the street, if you like." + +She shook her head. + +"Close the window and bolt it, please," she begged. "Draw the +curtains tight. Now come and sit down here for a moment." + +He did as he was bidden with some reluctance. + +"The man was a villainous-looking creature," he persisted. "I don't +think that he was up to any good. Look! There's a policeman almost +opposite. Shall I go and tell him?" + +She put out her hand and clasped his, drawing him down to her side. +Then she looked steadfastly into his face. + +"Mr. Chetwode," she said slowly, "women have many disadvantages in +life, but they have had one gift bestowed upon them in which they +trust always. It is the gift of instinct. You are very young, and I +know very little about you, but I know that you are to be trusted." + +"If I could serve you," he murmured,-- + +"You can," she interrupted. + +Then for a time she was silent. Some new emotion seemed to move her. +Her face was softer than he had ever seen it, her beautiful eyes +dimmer. His mind was filled with new thoughts of her. + +"Mrs. Weatherley," he pleaded, "please do believe in me, do trust +me. I mean absolutely what I say when I tell you there is nothing in +the world I would not do to save you from trouble or alarm." + +Her moment of weakness was over. She flashed one wonderful smile at +him and rose to her feet. + +"It is agreed," she declared. "When I need help--and it may be at +any moment--I shall call upon you." + +"I shall be honored," he assured her, gravely. "In the meantime, +please tell me--are we to speak of this to Rosario?" + +"Leave it to me," she begged. "I cannot explain to you what all this +means, but I think that Mr. Rosario can take care of himself. We +must go back now to the bridge-room. My husband is annoyed with me +for coming away again." + +Mr. Weatherley met them in the passage. He was distinctly irritable. + +"My dear Fenella!" he exclaimed. "Your guests do not understand +your absence. Mr. Rosario is most annoyed and I cannot imagine what +is the matter with Starling. I am afraid that he and Rosario have +had words." + +She turned her head as she passed, and smiled very slightly. + +"I have no concern," she said, "in the quarrel between Mr. Starling +and Mr. Rosario. As for the others--Mr. Chetwode and I are quite +ready for bridge now. We are going in to do our duty." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +AN UNUSUAL ERRAND + + +Arnold arrived at the office the next morning punctually at five +minutes to nine, and was already at work when Mr. Jarvis appeared +ten minutes later. + +"Gayety's not upset you, then, eh?" the latter remarked, divesting +himself of his hat and overcoat. + +"Not at all, thanks," Arnold answered. + +"Nice house, the governor's, isn't it?" + +"Very nice indeed." + +"Good dinners he gives, too," continued Mr. Jarvis. "Slap-up wines, +and the right sort of company. Must have been an eye-opener for +you." + +Arnold nodded. He was not in the least anxious to discuss the events +of the previous evening with Mr. Jarvis. The latter, however, came a +little nearer to him. He took off his gold-rimmed spectacles and +wiped them carefully. + +"Now I should like to know," he said, "exactly how Mrs. Weatherley +struck you?" + +"She appeared to me to be a singularly charming and very beautiful +lady," Arnold replied, writing quickly. + +Mr. Jarvis was disappointed. + +"She's good-looking enough," he admitted. "I can't say that I've +seen much of her, mind you, but she gave me the impression of a +woman who wasn't above using the powder-puff. She drove down here +with the governor one day, and to look at her you'd have thought she +was a princess come among the slums." + +"She was born abroad," Arnold remarked. "I dare say this atmosphere +would seem a little strange to her." + +"Sort of half a foreigner, I've understood," Mr. Jarvis continued. +"Speaks English all right, though. I can't help thinking," he went +on, "that the governor would have done better to have married into +one of our old city families. Nothing like them, you know, Chetwode. +Some fine women, too. There's Godson, the former Lord Mayor. He had +four daughters, and the governor might have had his pick." + +"Here he comes," Arnold remarked, quietly. + +Mr. Jarvis took the hint and went off to his work. A moment or two +later, Mr. Weatherley arrived. He passed through the office and +bestowed upon every one his customary salutation. At Arnold's desk +he paused for a moment. + +"Feeling all right this morning, young man?" he inquired, striving +after a note of patronage which somehow or other eluded him. + +"Quite well, thank you, sir." + +"You found the evening pleasant, I hope? Didn't lose any money at +bridge, eh?" + +"Mrs. Weatherley was good enough to take on the stakes, sir," Arnold +replied. "As a matter of fact, I believe that we won. I enjoyed the +evening very much, thank you." + +Mr. Weatherley passed on to his office. Jarvis waited until his +door was closed. + +"So you played bridge with Mrs. Weatherley, eh?" he remarked. + +"I did," Arnold admitted. "Have you noticed the shrinkage of weight +in these last invoices?" + +Mr. Jarvis accepted the papers which his junior passed him, and +departed into the warehouse. Arnold was left untroubled with any +more questions. At half-past twelve, however, he was sent for into +Mr. Weatherley's private office. Mr. Weatherley was leaning back in +his chair and he had the air of a man who has come to a resolution. + +"Shut the door, Chetwode," he ordered. + +Arnold did as he was bidden. + +"Come up to the desk here," he was further instructed. "Now, listen +to me," Mr. Weatherley continued, after a moment's pause. "You are a +young man of discretion, I am sure. My wife, I may say, Chetwode, +thought quite highly of you last night." + +Arnold looked his employer in the face and felt a sudden pang of +sympathy. Mr. Weatherley was certainly not looking as hale and +prosperous as a few months ago. His cheeks were flabby, and there +was a worried look about him which the head of the firm of +Weatherley & Co. should certainly not have worn. + +"Mrs. Weatherley is very kind, sir," he remarked. "As to my +discretion, I may say that I believe I am to be trusted. I should +try, of course, to justify any confidence you might place in me." + +"I believe so, too, Chetwode," Mr. Weatherley declared. "I am going +to trust you now with a somewhat peculiar commission. You may have +noticed that I have been asked to speak privately upon the +telephone several times this morning." + +"Certainly, sir," Arnold replied. "It was I who put you through." + +"I am not even sure," Mr. Weatherley continued, "who it was +speaking, but I received some communications which I think I ought +to take notice of. I want you accordingly to go to a certain +restaurant in the west-end, the name and address of which I will +give you, order your lunch there--you can have whatever you +like--and wait until you see Mr. Rosario. I dare say you remember +meeting Mr. Rosario last night, eh?" + +"Certainly, sir. I remember him quite well." + +"He will not be expecting you, so you will have to sit near the door +and watch for him. Directly you see him, you must go to him and say +that this message is from a friend. Tell him that whatever +engagement he may have formed for luncheon, he is to go at once to +the Prince's Grill Room and remain there until two o'clock. He is +not to lunch at the Milan--that is the name of the place where you +will be. Do you understand?" + +"I understand perfectly," Arnold assented. "But supposing he only +laughs at me?" + +"You will have done your duty," Mr. Weatherley said. "There need be +no mystery about the affair. You can say at once that you are there +as the result of certain telephone messages addressed to me this +morning, and that I should have come myself if it had been possible. +If he chooses to disregard them, it is his affair entirely--not +mine. At the same time, I think that he will go." + +"It seems an odd sort of a thing to tell a perfect stranger, sir," +Arnold remarked. + +Mr. Weatherley produced a five-pound note. + +"You can't go into those sort of places without money in your +pocket," he continued. "You can account to me for the change later, +but don't spare yourself. Have as good a lunch as you can eat. The +restaurant is the Milan Grill Room on the Strand--the cafe, mind, +not the main restaurant. You know where it is?" + +"Quite well, sir, thank you." + +Mr. Weatherley looked at his employee curiously. + +"Have you ever been there, then?" he inquired. + +"Once or twice, sir," Arnold admitted. + +"Not on the twenty-eight shillings a week you get from me!" + +"Quite true, sir," Arnold assented. "My circumstances were slightly +different at the time." + +Mr. Weatherley hesitated. This young man's manner did not invite +confidences. On the other hand, he was genuinely curious about him. + +"What made you come into the city, Chetwode?" he inquired. "You +don't seem altogether cut out for it--not that you don't do your +work and all that sort of thing," he went on, hastily. "I haven't a +word of complaint to make, mind. All the same, you certainly seem as +though you might have done a little better for yourself." + +"It is the fault of circumstances, sir," Arnold replied. "I am +hoping that before long you will find that I do my work well enough +to give me a better position." + +"You are ambitious, then?" + +The face of the young man was suddenly grim. + +"I mean to get on," he declared. "There were several years of my +life when I used to imagine things. I have quite finished with that. +I realize that there is only one way by means of which a man can +count." + +Mr. Weatherley nodded ponderously. + +"Well," he said, "let me see that your work is well done, and you +may find promotion is almost as quick in the city as anywhere else. +You had better be off now." + +"I trust," Arnold ventured, as he turned toward the door, "that Mrs. +Weatherley is quite well this morning?" + +"So far as I know, she is," Mr. Weatherley replied. "My wife isn't +usually visible before luncheon time. Continental habits, you know. +I shall expect you back by three o'clock. You must come and report +to me then." + +Arnold brushed his hat and coat with extra care as he took them down +from the peg. + +"Going to lunch early, aren't you?" Mr. Jarvis remarked, looking at +the clock. "Not sure that we can spare you yet. Smithers isn't +back." + +"I am going out for the governor," Arnold replied. + +"What, to the bank?" Mr. Jarvis asked. + +Arnold affected not to hear. He walked out into the street, lit a +cigarette, and had his boots carefully polished at London Bridge +Station. Then, as he had plenty of time, he took the train to +Charing Cross and walked blithely down the Strand. Freed from the +routine of his office work, he found his mind once more full of the +events of last night. There was so much that he could not +understand, yet there was so much that seemed to be leading him on +towards the land of adventures. He found himself watching the faces +in the Strand with a new interest, and he laughed to himself as he +realized what it was. He was looking all the time for the man whose +face he had seen pressed to the window-pane! + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE GLEAM OF STEEL + + +At the Milan, Arnold found himself early for luncheon. He chose a +table quite close to the entrance, ordered his luncheon with some +care, and commenced his watch. A thin stream of people was all the +time arriving, but for the first half-hour there was no one whom he +could associate in any way with his commission. It was not until he +had actually commenced his lunch that anything happened. Then, +through the half-open door, he heard what he recognized instantly as +a familiar voice. The manager of the restaurant hurried toward the +entrance and he heard the question repeated. + +"Is Mr. Rosario here?" + +"We have a table for him, madame, but he has not yet arrived," the +_maitre d'hotel_ replied. "If madame will allow me to show her the +way!" + +Arnold rose to his feet with a little start. Notwithstanding her +fashionable outdoor clothes and thick veil, he recognized Mrs. +Weatherley at once as she swept into the room, following the _maitre +d'hotel_. She came up to him with slightly upraised eyebrows. It was +clear that his presence there was a surprise to her. + +"I scarcely expected to see you again so soon," she remarked, +giving him her fingers. "Are you lunching alone?" + +"Quite alone," Arnold answered. + +She glanced half carelessly around, as though to see whether she +recognized any acquaintances. Arnold, however, was convinced that +she was simply anxious not to be overheard. + +"Tell me," she inquired, "has my husband sent you here?" + +Arnold admitted the fact. + +"I have a message," he replied. + +"For Mr. Rosario?" + +"For Mr. Rosario." + +"You have not seen anything of him yet, then?" she asked quickly. + +"He has not been here," Arnold assured her. "I have kept my eyes +glued upon the door." + +"Tell me the message quickly," she begged. + +Arnold did not hesitate. Mr. Weatherley was his employer but this +woman was his employer's wife. If there were secrets between them, +it was not his concern. It seemed natural enough that she should +ask. It was certainly not his place to refuse to answer her +question. + +"I was to tell him that on no account was he to lunch here to-day," +Arnold said. "He was to go instead to the grill room at Prince's in +Piccadilly, and remain there until two o'clock." + +Mrs. Weatherley made no remark. Her face was emotionless. Closely +though he was watching her, Arnold could not himself have declared +at that moment whether indeed this message had any import to her or +not. + +"I find my husband's behavior exceedingly mysterious," she said +thoughtfully. "I cannot imagine how he became concerned in the +matter at all." + +"I believe," Arnold told her, "that some one telephoned Mr. +Weatherley this morning. He was asked for privately several times +and he seemed very much disturbed by some message he received." + +"Some one telephoned him," she repeated, frowning. "Now I wonder who +that person could be." + +She sat quite still for a moment or two, looking through the +glass-paneled door. Then she shrugged her shoulders. + +"In any case," she declared, "I am here to lunch and I am hungry. I +will not wait for Mr. Rosario. May I sit here?" + +He called a waiter and the extra place was very soon prepared. + +"If Mr. Rosario comes," she said, "we can see him from here. You can +then give him your message and he can please himself. I should like +some Omelette aux Champignons, please, and some red wine--nothing +more. Perhaps I will take some fruit later. And now, please, Mr. +Arnold Chetwode, will you listen to me?" + +She undid her ermine cloak and laid aside her muff. The collection +of costly trifles which she had been carrying she threw carelessly +upon the table. + +"Last night," she continued, softly, "we agreed, did we not, to be +friends? It is possible you may find our friendship one of deeds, +not words alone." + +"There is nothing I ask for more sincerely," he declared. + +"To begin with, then," she went on, "I do not wish that you call me +Mrs. Weatherley. The name annoys me. It reminds me of things which +at times it is a joy to me to forget. You shall call me Fenella, and +I shall call you Arnold." + +"Fenella," he repeated, half to himself. + +She nodded. + +"Well, then, that is arranged. Now for the first thing I have to ask +of you. If Mr. Rosario comes, I do not wish that message from my +husband to be delivered." + +Arnold frowned slightly. + +"Isn't that a little difficult?" he protested. "Mr. Weatherley has +sent me up here for no other reason. He has given me an exact +commission, has told me even the words I am to use. What excuse can +I possibly make?" + +She smiled. + +"You shall be relieved of all responsibility," she declared. "If I +tell my husband that I do not wish you to obey his bidding, that +will be sufficient. It is a matter of which my husband understands +little. There are people whose interest it is to protect Rosario. It +is they who have spoken, without a doubt, this morning through the +telephone, but my husband does not understand. Rosario must take +care of himself. He runs his own risks. He is a man, and he knows +very well what he is doing." + +Arnold looked at her thoughtfully. + +"Do you seriously suppose, then," he asked, "that the object of my +message is to bid Mr. Rosario keep away from here because of some +actual danger?" + +"Why not? Mr. Rosario has chosen to interfere in a very difficult +and dangerous matter. He runs his own risks and he asks for a big +reward. It is not our place to protect him." + +She raised her veil and he looked at her closely. She was still as +beautiful as he had thought her last night, but her complexion was +pallid almost to fragility, and there were faint violet lines under +her eyes. + +"You have not slept," he said. "It was the fear of last night." + +"I slept badly," she admitted, "but that passes. This afternoon I +shall rest." + +"I cannot help thinking," he went on, "about those men who watched +the house last night. They could have been after no good. I wish you +would let me go to the police-station. Or would you like me to come +and watch myself, to-night or to-morrow night, to see if they come +again?" + +She shook her head firmly. + +"No!" she decided. "It wouldn't do any good. Just now, at any rate, +it is Rosario they want." + +Their conversation was interrupted for several moments while she +exchanged greetings with friends passing in and out of the +restaurant. Then she turned again to her companion. + +"Tell me," she asked, a little abruptly, "why are you a clerk in the +city? You do not come of that order of people." + +"Necessity," he assured her promptly. "I hadn't a sovereign in the +world when your husband engaged me." + +"You were not brought up for such a life!" + +"Not altogether," he admitted. "It suits me very well, though." + +"Poor boy!" she murmured. "You, too, have had evil fortune. Perhaps +the black hand has shadowed us both." + +"A man makes his own life," he answered, impulsively, "but you--you +were made for happiness. It is your right." + +She glanced for a moment at the rings upon her fingers. Then she +looked into his eyes. + +"I married Mr. Weatherley," she reminded him. "Do you think that if +I had been happy I should have done that? Do you think that, having +done it, I deserve to know, or could know, what happiness really +means?" + +It was very hard to answer her. Arnold found himself divided between +his loyalty towards the man who, in his way, had been kind to him, +and the woman who seemed to be stepping with such fascinating ease +into the empty places of his life. + +"Mr. Weatherley is very much devoted to you," he remarked. + +A shadow of derision parted her lips. + +"Mr. Weatherley is a very worthy man," she said, "but it would have +been better for him as well as for me if he had kept away from the +Island of Sabatini. Tell me, what did Lady Blennington say about us +last night?" + +His eyes twinkled. + +"She told me that Mr. Weatherley was wrecked upon the Island of +Sabatini, and that your brother kept him in a dungeon till he +promised to marry you." + +She laughed. + +"And you? What did you think of that?" + +"I thought," he replied, "that if adventures of that sort were to be +found in those seas, I would like to beg or borrow the money to sail +there myself and steer for the rocks." + +"For a boy," she declared, "you say very charming things. Tell me, +how old are you?" + +"Twenty-four." + +"You would not look so old if it were not for that line. You know, I +read characters and fortunes. All the women of my race have done so. +I can tell you that you had a youth of ease and happiness and one +year of terrible life. Then you started again. It is true, is it +not?" + +"Very nearly," he admitted. + +"I wonder--" + +She never finished her sentence. From their table, which was nearest +to the door, they were suddenly aware of a commotion of some sort +going on just outside. Through the glass door Rosario was plainly +visible, his sleekness ruffled, his white face distorted with +terror. The hand of some unseen person was gripping him by the +throat, bearing him backwards. There was a shout and they both saw +the cloakroom attendant spring over his counter. Something glittered +in the dim light--a flash of blue polished steel. There was a gleam +in the air, a horrible cry, and Rosario collapsed upon the floor. +Arnold, who was already on his feet and half-way to the door, caught +one glimpse of the upstretched hand, and all his senses were +thrilled with what he saw. Upon the little finger was a signet ring +with a scarlet stone! + +The whole affair was a matter of seconds, yet Arnold dashed through +the door to find Rosario a crumpled-up heap, the cloakroom attendant +bending over him, and no one else in the vestibule. Then the people +began to stream in--the hall porter, the lift man, some loiterers +from the outer hall. The cloakroom attendant sprang to his feet. He +seemed dazed. + +"Stop him!" he shouted. "Stop him!" + +The little group in the doorway looked at one another. + +"He went that way!" the cloakroom attendant cried out again. "He +passed through that door!" + +Some of them rushed into the street. One man hurried to the +telephone, the others pressed forward to where Rosario lay on his +back, with a thin stream of blood finding its way through his +waistcoat. Arnold was suddenly conscious of a woman's arm upon his +and a hoarse whisper in his ear. + +"Come back! Take me away somewhere quickly! This is no affair of +ours. I want to think. Take me away, please. I can't look at him." + +"Did you see the man's hand?" Arnold gasped. + +"What of it?" + +"It was the hand I saw upon your window-sill last night. It was the +same ring--a scarlet signet ring. I could swear to it." + +She gave a little moan and her whole weight lay upon his arm. In the +rush of people and the clamor of voices around, they were almost +unobserved. He passed his arm around her, and even in that moment of +wild excitement he was conscious of a nameless joy which seemed to +set his heart leaping. He led her back through the restaurant and +into one of the smaller rooms of the hotel. He found her an +easy-chair and stood over her. + +"You won't leave me?" she begged. + +He held her hand tightly. + +"Not until you send me away!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +"ROSARIO IS DEAD!" + + +Fenella never became absolutely unconscious. She was for some time +in a state apparently of intense nervous prostration. Her breath was +coming quickly, her eyes and her fingers seemed to be clinging to +his as though for support. Her touch, her intimate presence, her +reliance upon him, seemed to Arnold to infect the very atmosphere of +the place with a thrill of the strangest excitement. + +"You think that he is dead?" she faltered once. + +"Of course not," he replied reassuringly. "I saw no weapon at all. +It was just a quarrel." + +She half closed her eyes. + +"There was blood upon his waistcoat," she declared, "and I saw +something flash through the window." + +"I will go and see, if you like," Arnold suggested. + +Her fingers gripped his. + +"Not yet! Don't leave me yet! Why did you say that you recognized +the hand--that it was the same hand you saw upon the window-sill +last night?" + +"Because of the signet ring," Arnold answered promptly. "It was a +crude-looking affair, but the stone was bright scarlet. It was +impossible to mistake it." + +"It was only the ring, then?" + +"Only the ring, of course," he admitted. "I did not see the hand +close enough. It was foolish of me, perhaps, to say anything about +it, and yet--and yet the man last night--he was looking for Rosario. +Why should it not be the same?" + +He heard the breath come through her teeth in a little sob. + +"Don't say anything at present to any one else. Indeed, there are +others who might have worn such a ring." + +Arnold hesitated, but only for a second. He chanced to look into her +face, and her whisper became his command. + +"Very well," he promised. + +A few moments later she sat up. She was evidently becoming stronger. + +"Now go," she begged, "and see--how he is. Find out exactly what has +happened and come back. I shall wait for you here." + +He stood up eagerly. + +"You are sure that you will be all right?" + +"Of course," she replied. "Indeed, I shall be better when I know +what really has happened. You must go quickly, please, and come back +quickly. Stop!" + +Arnold, who had already started, turned back again. They were in a +ladies' small reception room at the head of the stairs leading down +into the restaurant, quite alone, for every one had streamed across +the courtyard to see what the disturbance was. The side of the room +adjoining the stairs and the broad passage leading to the +restaurant was entirely of glass. A man, on his way up the stairs, +had paused and was looking intently at them. + +"Tell me, who is that?" demanded Fenella. + +Arnold recognized him at once. + +"It is your friend Starling--the man from South America." + +"Starling!" she murmured. + +"I think that he is coming in," Arnold continued. "He has seen you. +Do you mind?" + +She shook her head. + +"No. He will stay with me while you are away. Perhaps he knows +something." + +Arnold hurried off and met Starling upon the threshold of the room. + +"Isn't that Mrs. Weatherley with you?" the latter inquired. + +"Yes," Arnold told him. "She was lunching with me in the Grill Room. +I believe that she was really waiting for Rosario--when the affair +happened." + +"What affair?" + +Arnold stared at him. It seemed impossible that there was any one +ignorant of the tragedy. + +"Haven't you heard?" Arnold exclaimed. "Rosario was stabbed outside +the Grill Room a few moments ago." + +Starling's pallid complexion seemed suddenly to become ghastly. + +"Rosario--Rosario stabbed?" he faltered. + +"I thought that every one in the place must have heard of it," +Arnold continued. "He was stabbed just as he was entering the cafe, +not more than ten minutes ago." + +"By whom?" + +Starling's words came with the swift crispness of a pistol shot. +Arnold shook his head. + +"I didn't see. I am just going to ask for particulars. Will you stay +with Mrs. Weatherley?" + +Starling looked searchingly along the vestibule. The news seemed to +have affected him strangely. His head was thrown a little back, his +nostrils distended. He reminded Arnold for a moment of a watch-dog, +listening. + +"Of course," he muttered, "of course. Come back as soon as you can +and let us know what has happened." + +Arnold made his way through the reception hall and across the +courtyard. Already the crowd of people was melting away. A policeman +stood on guard at the opposite door, and two more at the entrance of +the cafe. The whole of the vestibule where the affair had happened +was closed, and the only information which it was possible to +collect Arnold gathered from the excited conversations of the little +knots of people standing around. In a few minutes he returned to the +small reception room. Fenella and Starling looked eagerly up as he +entered. They both showed signs of an intense emotion. Starling was +even gripping the back of a chair as he spoke. + +"What of Rosario?" he demanded. + +Arnold hesitated, but only for a moment. The truth, perhaps, was +best. + +"Rosario is dead," he replied gravely. "He was stabbed to the heart +and died within a few seconds." + +There was a queer silence. Arnold felt inclined to rub his eyes. +Gone was at least part of the horror from their white faces. Fenella +sank back in her chair with a little sob which might almost have +been of relief. Starling, as though suddenly mindful of the +conventions, assumed a grimly dolorous aspect. + +"Poor fellow!" he muttered. "And the murderer?" + +"He's gotten clean off, for the present at any rate," Arnold told +them. "They seem to think that he reached the Strand and had a motor +car waiting." + +Again there was silence. Then Mrs. Weatherley rose to her feet, +glanced for a moment in the looking-glass, and turning round held +out both her hands to Arnold. + +"You have been so kind to me," she said softly. "I shall not forget +it--indeed I shall not. Mr. Starling is going to take me home in his +car. Good-bye!" + +Arnold held her hands steadfastly and looked into her eyes. They +were more beautiful than ever now with their mist of risen tears. +But there were other things in her face, things less easy to +understand. He turned away regretfully. + +"I am sorry that you should have had such a shock," he said. "Is +there any message for Mr. Weatherley?" + +She exchanged a quick glance with her companion. Then for the first +time Arnold realized the significance of the errand on which he had +come. + +"Some one must have warned Mr. Weatherley of what was likely to +happen!" he exclaimed. "It was for that reason I was sent here!" + +Again no one spoke for several seconds. + +"It was not your fault," she said gently. "You were told to wait +inside the restaurant. You could not have done more." + +Arnold turned away with a little shiver. His mission had been to +save a man's life, and he had failed! + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE DUTIES OF A SECRETARY + + +It was twenty minutes to four before Arnold reached the office. Mr. +Jarvis looked at him curiously as he took off his hat and hung it +up. + +"I don't know what you've been up to, young man," he remarked, "but +you'll find the governor in a queer state of mind. For the last hour +he's been ringing his bell every five minutes, asking for you." + +"I was detained," Arnold answered shortly. "Is he alone now?" + +Mr. Jarvis nodded. + +"I think that you had better go in at once," he advised. "There he +is stamping about inside. I hope you've got some good excuse or +there'll be the dickens to pay." + +The door of the inner office was suddenly opened. Mr. Weatherley +appeared upon the threshold. He recognized Arnold with an expression +partly of anger, partly of relief. + +"So here you are at last, young man!" he exclaimed. "Where the +dickens have you been to all this while? Come in--come in at once! +Do you see the time?" + +"I am very sorry indeed, sir," Arnold replied. "I can assure you +that I have not wasted a moment that I know of." + +"Then what in the name of goodness did you find to keep you occupied +all this time?" Mr. Weatherley demanded, pushing him through into +the office and closing the door behind them. "Did you see Mr. +Rosario? Did you give him the message?" + +"I had no opportunity, sir," Arnold answered gravely. + +"No opportunity? What do you mean? Didn't he come to the Milan? +Didn't you see him at all?" + +"He came, sir," Arnold admitted, "but I was not able to see him in +time. I thought, perhaps," he added, "that you might have heard what +happened." + +Mr. Weatherley had reached the limits of his patience. He struck the +table with his clenched fist. For a moment anger triumphed over his +state of nervous excitability. + +"Heard?" he cried. "Heard what? What the devil should I hear down +here? If you've anything to tell, why don't you tell it me? Why do +you stand there looking like a--" + +Mr. Weatherley was suddenly frightened. He understood from Arnold's +expression that something serious had happened. + +"My God!" he exclaimed. "Mrs. Weatherley--my wife--" + +"Mrs. Weatherley is quite well," Arnold assured him quickly. "It is +Mr. Rosario." + +"What of him? What about Rosario?" + +"He is dead," Arnold announced. "You will read all about it in the +evening papers. He was murdered--just as he was on the point of +entering the Milan Grill Room." + +Mr. Weatherley began to shake. He looked like a man on the verge of +a collapse. He was still, however, able to ask a question. + +"By whom?" + +"The murderer was not caught," Arnold told him. "No one seems to +have seen him clearly, it all took place so quickly. He stole out of +some corner where he must have been hiding, and he was gone before +anyone had time to realize what was happening." + +Mr. Weatherley had been standing up all this time, clutching +nervously at his desk. He suddenly collapsed into his easy-chair. +His face was gray, his mouth twitched as though he were about to +have a stroke. + +"My God!" he murmured. "Rosario dead! They had him, after all! +They--killed him!" + +"It was a great shock to every one," Arnold went on. "Mrs. +Weatherley arrived about a quarter of an hour before it occurred. I +understood that she was expecting to lunch with him, but when I told +her why I was there she came and sat at my table. She was sitting +there when it happened. She was very much upset indeed. I was +detained looking after her." + +Mr. Weatherley looked at him narrowly. + +"I am sorry that she was there," he said. "She is not strong. She +ought not to be subjected to such shocks." + +"I left her with Mr. Starling," Arnold continued. "He was going to +take her home." + +"Was Starling lunching there?" Mr. Weatherley asked. + +"We saw him afterwards, coming up from the restaurant," Arnold +replied. "He did not seem to have been in the Grill Room at all." + +Mr. Weatherley sat back in his chair and for several minutes he +remained silent. His eyes were fixed upon vacancy, his lips moved +once or twice, but he said nothing. He seemed, indeed, to have lost +the power of speech. + +"It is extraordinary how the affair could have happened, almost +unnoticed, in such a crowded place," Arnold went on, feeling somehow +that it was best for him to talk. "There is nearly always a little +stream of people coming in, or a telephone boy, or some one passing, +but it happened that Mr. Rosario came in alone. He had just handed +his silk hat to the cloakroom attendant, who had turned away with +it, when the man who killed him slipped out from somewhere, caught +him by the throat, and it was all over in a few seconds. The +murderer seems to have kept his face entirely hidden. They do not +appear to have found a single person who could identify him. I had a +table quite close to the door, as you told me, and I really saw the +blow struck. We rushed outside, but, though I don't believe we were +more than a few seconds, there wasn't a soul in sight." + +"The police will find out something," Mr. Weatherley muttered. "They +are sure to find out something." + +"Some people think," Arnold continued, "that the man never left the +hotel, or, if he did, that he was taken away in a motor car. The +whole hotel was being searched very carefully when I left." + +There was a knock at the door. Mr. Jarvis, who had been unable to +restrain his curiosity any longer, brought some letters in for +signature. + +"If you can spare a moment, sir," he began, apologetically, "there +is this little matter of Bland & Company's order. I have brought the +reports with me." + +Mr. Weatherley felt his feet upon the ground again. He turned to +the papers which his clerk laid before him and gave them his close +attention. When Arnold would have left the room, however, he signed +impatiently to him to remain. As soon as he had given his +instructions, and Mr. Jarvis had left the room, he turned once more +to Arnold. + +"Chetwode," he said, looking at him critically, "you appear to me to +be a young man of athletic build." + +Arnold was quite speechless. + +"I mean that you could hold your own in a tussle, eh? You look +strong enough to knock any one down who attempted to take liberties +with you." + +Arnold smiled. + +"I dare say I might manage that, sir," he admitted. + +"Very well--very well, then," Mr. Weatherley repeated. "Have your +desk moved in here at once, Chetwode. You can have it placed just +where you like. You'll get the light from that window if you have +the easy-chair moved and put in the corner there against the wall. +Understand that from now on you are my private secretary, and you do +not leave this room, whoever may come in to see me, except by my +special instructions. You understand that, eh?" + +"Perfectly, sir." + +"Your business is to protect me, in case of anything happening--of +any disagreeable visitors, or anything of that sort," Mr. Weatherley +declared. "This affair of Mr. Rosario has made me nervous. There is +a very dangerous gang of people about who try to get money from rich +men, and, if they don't succeed, use violence. I have already come +into contact with something of the sort myself. Your salary--what +do you get at present?" + +"Twenty-eight shillings a week, sir." + +"Double it," Mr. Weatherley ordered promptly. "Three pounds a week I +will make it. For three pounds a week I may rely upon your constant +and zealous service?" + +"You may rely absolutely on that," Arnold replied, not quite sure +whether he was on his head or his feet. + +"Very well, then, go and tell some of the porters to bring in your +desk. Have it brought in this very moment. Understand, if you +please, that it is my wish not to be left alone under any +circumstances--that is quite clear, isn't it?--not under any +circumstances! I have heard some most disquieting stories about +black-mailers and that sort of people." + +"I don't think you need fear anything of the sort here," Arnold +assured him. + +"I trust not," Mr. Weatherley asserted, "but I prefer to be on the +right side. As regards firearms," he continued, "I have never +carried them, nor am I accustomed to handling them. At the same +time,--" + +"I wouldn't bother about firearms, if I were you, sir," Arnold +interrupted. "I can promise you that while I am in this office no +one will touch you or harm you in any way. I would rather rely upon +my fists any day." + +Mr. Weatherley nodded. + +"I am glad to hear you say so. A strong young man like you need have +no fear, of course. You understand, Chetwode, not a word in the +outer office." + +"Certainly not, sir," Arnold promised. "You can rely entirely upon +my discretion. You will perhaps tell Mr. Jarvis that I am to do my +work in here. Fortunately, I know a little shorthand, so if you like +I can take the letters down. It will make my presence seem more +reasonable." + +Mr. Weatherley leaned back in his chair and lit a cigar. He was +recovering slowly. + +"A very good idea, Chetwode," he said. "I will certainly inform Mr. +Jarvis. Poor Rosario!" he went on thoughtfully. "And to think that +he might have been warned. If only I had told you to wait outside +the restaurant!" + +"Do you know who it was who telephoned to you, sir?" Arnold asked. + +"No idea--no idea at all," Mr. Weatherley declared. "Some one rang +up and told me that Mr. Rosario was engaged to lunch in the Grill +Room with my wife. I don't know who it was--didn't recognize the +voice from Adam--but the person went on to say that it would be a +very great service indeed to Mr. Rosario if some one could stop him +from lunching there to-day. Can't think why they telephoned to me." + +"If Mr. Rosario were lunching with your wife," Arnold pointed out, +"it would be perfectly easy for her to get him to go somewhere else +if she knew of the message, whereas he might have refused an +ordinary warning." + +"You haven't heard the motive even hinted at, I suppose?" Mr. +Weatherley asked. + +"Not as yet," Arnold replied. "That may all come out at the +inquest." + +"To be sure," Mr. Weatherley admitted. "At the inquest--yes, yes! +Poor Rosario!" + +He watched the smoke from his cigar curl up to the ceiling. Then he +turned to some papers on his table. + +"Get your desk in, Chetwode," he ordered, "and then take down some +letters. The American mail goes early this afternoon." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A STRAINED CONVERSATION + + +Arnold swung around the corner of the terrace that evening with +footsteps still eager notwithstanding his long walk. The splendid +egoism of youth had already triumphed, the tragedy of the day had +become a dim thing. He himself was moving forward and onward. He +glanced up at the familiar window, feeling a slight impulse of +disappointment when he received no welcoming wave of the hand. It +was the first time for weeks that Ruth had not been there. He +climbed the five flights of stone stairs, still buoyant and +light-hearted. Glancing into his own room, he found it empty, then +crossed at once the passageway and knocked at Ruth's door. She was +lying back in her chair, with her back toward the window. + +"Why, Ruth," he exclaimed, "how dare you desert your post!" + +He felt at once that there was something strange in her reception of +him. She stopped him as he came across the room, holding out both +her hands. Her wan face was strained as she gazed and gazed. +Something of the beautiful softness of her features had passed for +the moment. She was so anxious, so terrified lest she should +misread what was written in his face. + +"Arnold!" she murmured. "Oh, Arnold!" + +He was a little startled. It was as though tragedy had been let +loose in the room. + +"Why do you look at me like that, dear?" he cried. "Is there +anything so terrible to tell me? What have I done?" + +"God knows!" she answered. "Don't come any nearer for a moment. I +want to look at you." + +She was leaning out from her chair. It was true, indeed, that at +that moment some sort of fear had drained all the beauty from her +face, though her eyes shone still like fierce stars. + +"You have gone, Arnold," she moaned. "You have slipped away. You are +lost to me." + +"You foolish person!" he exclaimed, stepping towards her. "Never in +my life! Never!" + +She laid her hand upon the stick which leaned against her chair. + +"Not yet," she implored. "Don't come to me yet. Stay there where I +can see your face. Now tell me--tell me everything." + +He laughed, not altogether easily, with a note half of resentment, +half of protest. + +"Dear Ruth," he pleaded, "what have I done to deserve this? Nothing +has happened to me that I will not tell you about. You have been +sitting here alone, fancying things. And I have news--great news! +Wait till you hear it." + +"Go on," she said, simply. "Tell me everything. Begin at last +night." + +He drew a little breath. It was, after all, a hard task, this, that +lay before him. Last night in his mind lay far enough back now, a +tangled web of disconnected episodes, linked together by a strangely +sweet emotional thread of sentiment. And the girl was watching his +face with every sense strained to catch his words and the meaning of +them. Vaguely he felt his danger, even from the first. + +"Well, I got there in plenty of time," he began. "It was a beautiful +house, beautifully furnished and arranged. The people were queer, +not at all the sort I expected. Most of them seemed half foreign. +They were all very hard to place for such a respectable household as +Mr. Weatherley's should be." + +"They were not really, then, Mr. Weatherley's friends?" she asked +quietly. + +"As a matter of fact, they were not," he admitted. "That may have +had something to do with it. Mrs. Weatherley was a foreigner. She +came from a little island somewhere in the Mediterranean, and is +half Portuguese. Most of the people were there apparently by her +invitation. After dinner--such a dinner, Ruth--we played bridge. +More people came then. I think there were eight tables altogether. +After I left, most of them stayed on to play baccarat." + +Her eyes still held his. Her expression was unchanged. + +"Tell me about Mrs. Weatherley," she murmured. + +"She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She is pale and +she has strange brown eyes, not really brown but lighter. I couldn't +tell you the color for I've never seen anything else like it. And +she has real red-brown hair, and she is slim, and she walks like one +of these women one reads about. They say that she is a Comtesse in +her own right but that she never uses the title." + +"And was she kind?" asked Ruth. + +"Very kind indeed. She talked to me quite a good deal and I played +bridge at her table. It seems the most amazing thing in the world +that she should ever have married a man like Samuel Weatherley." + +"Now tell me the rest," she persisted. "Something else has +happened--I am sure of it." + +He dropped his voice a little. The terror was coming into the room. + +"There was a man there named Rosario--a Portuguese Jew and a very +wealthy financier. One reads about him always in the papers. I have +heard of him many times. He negotiates loans for foreign governments +and has a bank of his own. I left him there last night, playing +baccarat. This morning Mr. Weatherley called me into his office and +sent me up to the Milan Restaurant with a strange message. I was to +find Mr. Rosario and to see that he did not lunch there--to send him +away somewhere else, in fact. I didn't understand it, but of course +I went." + +"And what happened?" she demanded. + +He held his breath for a moment. + +"I was to take a table just inside the restaurant," he explained, +"and to tell him directly he entered. I did exactly as I was told, +but it was too late. Rosario was stabbed as he was on the point of +entering the restaurant, within a few yards of where I was sitting." + +She shivered a little, although her general expression was still +unchanged. + +"You mean that he was murdered?" + +"He was killed upon the spot," Arnold declared. + +"By whom?" + +He shook his head. + +"No one knows. The man got away. I bought an evening paper as I came +along and I see they haven't arrested any one yet." + +"Was there a quarrel?" she asked. + +"Nothing of the sort," he replied. "The other man seemed simply to +have run out from somewhere and stabbed him with one thrust. I saw +it all but I was powerless to interfere." + +"You saw the man who did it?" she asked. + +"Only his arm," Arnold answered. "He kept his body twisted around +somehow. It was a blackguardly thing to do." + +"It was horrible!" she murmured. + +There was an interruption. The piece of tattered curtain which +concealed the portion of the room given over to Isaac, and which led +beyond to his sleeping chamber, was flung on one side. Isaac himself +stood there, his black eyes alight with anger. + +"Liar!" he exclaimed. "Liars, both of you!" + +They looked at him without speech, his interruption was so sudden, +so unexpected. The girl had forgotten his presence in the room; +Arnold had never been conscious of it. + +"I tell you that Rosario was a robber of mankind," Isaac cried. "He +was one of those who feed upon the bones of the poor. His place was +in Hell and into Hell he has gone. Honor to the hand which started +him on his journey!" + +"You go too far, Isaac," Arnold protested. "I never heard any +particular harm of the man except that he was immensely wealthy." + +Isaac stretched out his thin hand. His bony forefinger pointed +menacingly towards Arnold. + +"You fool!" he cried. "You brainless creature of brawn and muscle! +You have heard no harm of him save that he was immensely wealthy! +Listen. Bear that sentence in your mind and listen to me, listen +while I tell you a story. A party of travelers was crossing the +desert. They lost their way. One man only had water, heaps of water. +There was enough in his possession for all, enough and to spare. The +sun beat upon their heads, their throats were parched, their lips +were black, they foamed at the mouth. On their knees they begged and +prayed for water; he took not even the trouble to reply. He kept +himself cool and refreshed with his endless supply; he poured it +upon his head, he bathed his lips and drank. So he passed on, and +the people around died, cursing him. Last of all, one who had seen +his wife sob out her last breath in his arms, more terrible still +had heard his little child shriek with agony, clutch at him and pray +for water--he saw the truth, and what power there is above so guided +his arm that he struck. The man paid the just price for his colossal +greed. The vultures plucked his heart out in the desert. So died +Rosario!" + +Arnold shook his head. + +"The cases are not similar, Isaac," he declared. + +"You lie!" Isaac shrieked. "There is not a hair's-breadth of +difference! Rosario earned his wealth in an office hung with costly +pictures; he earned it lounging in ease in a padded chair, earned it +by the monkey tricks of a dishonest brain. Never an honest day's +work did he perform in his life, never a day did he stand in the +market-place where the weaker were falling day by day. In fat +comfort he lived, and he died fittingly on the portals of a +restaurant, the cost of one meal at which would have fed a dozen +starving children. Pity Rosario! Pity his soul, if you will, but not +his dirty body!" + +"The man is dead," Arnold muttered. + +"Dead, and let him rot!" Isaac cried fiercely. "There may be +others!" + +He caught up his cloth cap and, without another word, left the room. +Arnold looked after him curiously, more than a little impressed by +the man's passionate earnestness. Ruth, on the other hand, was +unmoved. + +"Isaac is Isaac," she murmured. "He sees life like that. He would +wear the flesh off his bones preaching against wealth. It is as +though there were some fire inside which consumed him all the time. +When he comes back, he will be calmer." + +But Arnold remained uneasy. Isaac's words, and his attitude of +pent-up fury, had made a singular impression upon him. For those few +moments, the Hyde Park demagogue with his frothy vaporings existed +no longer. It seemed to Arnold as though a flash of the real fire +had suddenly blazed into the room. + +"If Isaac goes about the world like that, trouble will come of it," +he said thoughtfully. "Have you ever heard him speak of Rosario +before?" + +"Never," she answered. "I have heard him talk like that, though, +often. To me it sounds like the waves beating upon the shores. They +may rage as furiously, or ripple as softly as the tides can bring +them,--it makes no difference ... I want you to go on, please. I +want you to finish telling me--your news." + +Arnold looked away from the closed door. He looked back again into +the girl's face. There was still that appearance of strained +attention about her mouth and eyes. + +"You are right," he admitted. "These things, after all, are terrible +enough, but they are like the edge of a storm from which one has +found shelter. Isaac ought to realize it." + +"Tell me what this is which has happened to you!" she begged. + +He shook himself free from that cloud of memories. He gave himself +up instead to the joy of telling her his good news. + +"Listen, then," he said. "Mr. Weatherley, in consideration not +altogether, I am afraid, of my clerklike abilities, but of my +shoulders and muscle, has appointed me his private secretary, with a +seat in his office and a salary of three pounds a week. Think of it, +Ruth! Three pounds a week!" + +A smile lightened her face for a moment as she squeezed his fingers. + +"But why?" she asked. "What do you mean about your shoulders and +your muscle?" + +"It is all very mysterious," he declared, "but do you know I believe +Mr. Weatherley is afraid. He shook like a leaf when I told him of +the murder of Rosario. I believe he thinks that there was some sort +of blackmailing plot and he is afraid that something of the kind +might happen to him. My instructions are never to leave his office, +especially if he is visited by any strangers." + +"It sounds absurd," she remarked. "I should have thought that of all +the commonplace, unimaginative people you have ever described to me, +Mr. Weatherley was supreme." + +"And I," Arnold agreed. "And so, in a way, he is. It is his +marriage which seems to have transformed him--I feel sure of that. +He is mixing now with people whose manners and ways of thinking are +entirely strange to him. He has had the world he knew of kicked from +beneath his feet, and is hanging on instead to the fringe of +another, of which he knows very little." + +Ruth was silent. All the time Arnold was conscious that she was +watching him. He turned his head. Her mouth was once more set and +strained, a delicate streak of scarlet upon the pallor of her face, +but from the fierce questioning of her eyes there was no escape. + +"What is it you want to know that I have not told you, Ruth?" he +asked. + +"Tell me what happened to you last night!" + +He laughed boisterously, but with a flagrant note of insincerity. + +"Haven't I been telling you all the time?" + +"You've kept something back," she panted, gripping his fingers +frantically, "the greatest thing. Speak about it. Anything is better +than this silence. Don't you remember your promise before you +went--you would tell me everything--everything! Well?" + +Her words pierced the armor of his own self-deceit. The bare room +seemed suddenly full of glowing images of Fenella. His face was +transfigured. + +"I haven't told you very much about Mrs. Weatherley," he said, +simply. "She is very wonderful and very beautiful. She was very kind +to me, too." + +Ruth leaned forward in her chair; her eyes read what she strove yet +hated to see. She threw herself suddenly back, covering her face +with her hands. The strain was over. She began to weep. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR + + +Mr. Weatherley laid down his newspaper with a grunt. He was alone in +his private office with his newly appointed secretary. + +"Two whole days gone already and they've never caught that fellow!" +he exclaimed. "They don't seem to have a clue, even." + +Arnold looked up from some papers upon which he was engaged. + +"We can't be absolutely sure of that, sir," he reminded his +employer. "They wouldn't give everything away to the Press." + +Mr. Weatherley threw the newspaper which he had been reading onto +the floor, and struck the table with his fist. + +"The whole affair," he declared, "is scandalous--perfectly +scandalous. The police system of this country is ridiculously +inadequate. Scotland Yard ought to be thoroughly overhauled. Some +one should take the matter up--one of the ha'penny papers on the +lookout for a sensation might manage it. Just see here what +happens," he went on earnestly. "A man is murdered in cold blood in +a fashionable restaurant. The murderer simply walks out of the +place into the street and no one hears of him again. He can't have +been swallowed up, can he? You were there, Chetwode. What do you +think of it?" + +Arnold, who had been thinking of little else for the last few days, +shook his head. + +"I don't know what to think, sir," he admitted, "except that the +murderer up till now has been extraordinarily lucky." + +"Either that or he was fiendishly clever," Mr. Weatherley agreed, +pulling nervously at his little patch of gray sidewhiskers. "I +wonder, now--you've read the case, Chetwode?" + +"Every word of it," Arnold admitted. + +"Have you formed any idea yourself as to the motive?" Mr. Weatherley +asked nervously. + +Arnold shook his head. + +"At present there seems nothing to go on, sir," he remarked. "I did +hear it said that some one was trying to blackmail him and Mr. +Rosario wasn't having any." + +Mr. Weatherley pushed his scant hair back with his hand. He appeared +to feel the heat of the office. + +"You've heard that, too, eh?" he muttered. "It occurred to me from +the first, Chetwode. It certainly did occur to me. You will remember +that I mentioned it." + +"What did your brother-in-law think of it, sir?" Arnold asked. "He +and Mr. Rosario seemed to be very great friends. They were talking +together for a long time that night at your house." + +Mr. Weatherley jumped to his feet and threw open the window. The air +which entered the office from the murky street was none of the +best, but he seemed to find it welcome. Arnold was shocked to see +his face when he turned around. + +"The Count Sabatini is a very extraordinary man," Mr. Weatherley +confessed. "He and his friends come to my house, but to tell you the +truth I don't know much about them. Mrs. Weatherley wishes to have +them there and that is quite enough for me. All the same, I don't +feel that they're exactly the sort of people I've been used to, +Chetwode, and that's a fact." + +Mr. Weatherley had resumed his seat. He was leaning back in his +chair now, his hands drooping to his side, looking precisely what he +was--an ungraceful, commonplace little person, without taste or +culture, upon whom even a good tailor seemed to have wasted +his efforts. A certain pomposity which in a way became the +man--proclaimed his prosperity and redeemed him from complete +insignificance--had for a moment departed. He was like a pricked +bladder. Arnold could scarcely help feeling sorry for him. + +"I shouldn't allow these things to worry me, if I were you, sir," +Arnold suggested respectfully. "If there is anything which you don't +understand, I should ask for an explanation. Mrs. Weatherley is much +too kind and generous to wish you to be worried, I am sure." + +Then the side of the man with which Arnold wholly sympathized showed +itself suddenly. At the mention of his wife's name an expression +partly fatuous, partly beatific, transformed his homely features. He +was looking at her picture which stood always opposite him. He had +the air of an adoring devotee before some sacred shrine. + +"You are quite right, Chetwode," he declared, "quite right, but I +am always very careful not to let my wife know how I feel. You see, +the Count Sabatini is her only relative, and before our marriage +they were inseparable. He was an exile from Portugal and it seems to +me these foreigners hang on together more than we do. I am only too +glad for her to be with him as much as she chooses. It is just a +little unfortunate that his friends should sometimes be--well, a +trifle distasteful, but--one must put up with it. One must put up +with it, eh? After all, Rosario was a man very well spoken of. There +was no reason why he shouldn't have come to my house. Plenty of +other men in my position would have been glad to have entertained +him." + +"Certainly, sir," agreed Arnold. "I believe he went a great deal +into society." + +"And, no doubt," Mr. Weatherley continued, eagerly, "he had many +enemies. In the course of his commercial career, which I believe was +an eventful one, he would naturally make enemies.... By the bye, +Chetwode, speaking of blackmail--that blackmail rumor, eh? You don't +happen to have heard any particulars?" + +"None at all, sir," replied Arnold. "I don't suppose anything is +really known. It seems a probable solution of the affair, though." + +Mr. Weatherley nodded thoughtfully. + +"It does," he admitted. "I can quite imagine any one trying it on +and Rosario defying him. Just the course which would commend itself +to such a man." + +"The proper course, no doubt," Arnold remarked, "although it +scarcely turned out the best for poor Mr. Rosario." + +Mr. Weatherley distinctly shivered. + +"Well, well," he declared, "you had better take out those invoices, +and ask Jarvis to see me at once about Budden & Williams' +account.... God bless my soul alive, why, here's Mrs. Weatherley!" + +A car had stopped outside and both men had caught a vision of a +fur-clad feminine figure crossing the pavement. Mr. Weatherley's +fingers, busy already with his tie, were trembling with excitement. +His whole appearance was transformed. + +"Hurry out and meet her, Chetwode!" he exclaimed. "Show her the way +in! This is the first time in her life she has been here of her own +accord. Just as we were speaking about her, too!" + +Fenella entered the office as a princess shod in satin might enter a +pigsty. Her ermine-trimmed gown was raised with both her hands, her +delightful nose had a distinct tilt and her lips a curl. But when +she saw Arnold, a wonderful smile transformed her face. She was in +the middle of the clerk's office, the cynosure of twenty-four +staring eyes, but she dropped her gown and held out both her +delicately gloved hands. The fall of her skirts seemed to shake out +strange perfumes into the stuffy room. + +"Ah! you are really here, then, in this odious gloom? You will show +me where I can find my husband?" + +Arnold stepped back and threw open the door of the inner office. She +laughed into his face. + +"Do not go away," she ordered. "Come in with me. I want to thank you +for looking after me the other day." + +Arnold murmured a few words of excuse and turned away. Mr. Tidey +Junior carefully arranged his necktie and slipped down from his +stool. + +"Jarvis," he exclaimed, "a free lunch and my lifetime's gratitude if +you'll send me into the governor's office on any pretext whatever!" + +Mr. Jarvis, who was answering the telephone, took off his +gold-rimmed spectacles and wiped them. + +"Some one must go in and say that Mr. Burland, of Harris & Burland, +wishes to know at what time he can see the governor. I think you had +better let Chetwode go, though." + +The young man turned away, humming a tune. + +"Not I!" he replied. "Don't be surprised, you fellows, if I am not +out just yet. The governor's certain to introduce me." + +He knocked at the door confidently and disappeared. In a very few +seconds he was out again. His appearance was not altogether +indicative of conquest. + +"Governor says Burland can go to the devil, or words to that +effect," he announced, ill-naturedly. "Chetwode, you're to take in +the private cheque book.... I tell you what, Jarvis," he added, +slowly resuming his stool, "the governor's not himself these days. +The least he could have done would have been to introduce me, +especially as he's been up at our place so often. Rotten form, I +call it. Anyway, she's not nearly so good-looking close to." + +Mr. Jarvis proceeded to inform the inquirer through the telephone +that Mr. Weatherley was unfortunately not to be found at the moment. +Arnold, with Mr. Weatherley's cheque book in his hand, knocked at +the door of the private office and closed the door carefully behind +him. As he stood upon the threshold, his heart gave a sudden leap. +Mr. Weatherley was sitting in his accustomed chair, but his attitude +and expression were alike unusual. He was like a man shrinking under +the whip. And Fenella--he was quick enough to catch the look in her +face, the curl of her lips, the almost wicked flash of her eyes. Yet +in a moment she was laughing. + +"Your cheque book, Mr. Weatherley," he remarked, laying it down upon +the desk. + +Mr. Weatherley barely thanked him--barely, indeed, seemed to realize +Arnold's presence. The latter turned to go. Fenella, however, +intervened. + +"Don't go away, if you please, Mr. Chetwode," she begged. "My +husband is angry with me and I am a little frightened. And all +because I have asked him to help a very good friend of mine who is +in need of money to help forward a splendid cause." + +Arnold was embarrassed. He glanced doubtfully at Mr. Weatherley, who +was fingering his cheque book. + +"It is scarcely a matter for discussion--" his employer began, but +Fenella threw out her hands. + +"Oh! la, la!" she interrupted. "Don't bore me so, my dear Samuel, or +I will come to this miserable place no more. Mr. Starling must have +this five hundred pounds because I have promised him, and because I +have promised my brother that he shall have it. It is most +important, and if all goes well it will come back to you some day or +other. If not, you must make up your mind to lose it. Please write +out the cheque, and afterwards Mr. Chetwode is to take me out to +lunch. Andrea asked me especially to bring him, and if we do not go +soon," she added, consulting a little jeweled watch upon her wrist, +"we shall be late. Andrea does not like to be kept waiting." + +"I was hoping," Mr. Weatherley remarked, with an unwieldy attempt +at jocularity, "that I might be asked out to luncheon myself." + +"Another day, my dear husband," she promised carelessly. "You know +that you and Andrea do not agree very well. You bore him so much and +then he is irritable. I do not like Andrea when he is irritable. +Give me my cheque, dear, and let me go." + +Mr. Weatherley dipped his pen in the ink, solemnly wrote out a +cheque and tore it from the book. Fenella, who had risen to her feet +and was standing over him with her hand upon his shoulder, stuffed +it carelessly into the gold purse which she was carrying. Then she +patted him on the cheek with her gloved hand. + +"Don't overwork," she said, "and come home punctually. Are you quite +ready, Mr. Chetwode?" + +Arnold, who was finding the position more than ever embarrassing, +turned to his employer. + +"Can you spare me, sir?" he asked. + +Mr. Weatherley nodded. + +"If my wife desires you to go, certainly," he replied. "But +Fenella," he added, "I am not very busy myself. Is it absolutely +necessary that you lunch with your brother? Perhaps, even if it is, +he can put up with my society for once." + +She threw a kiss to him from the door. + +"Unreasonable person!" she exclaimed. "To-day it is absolutely +necessary that I lunch with Andrea. You must go to your club if you +are not busy, and play billiards or something. Come, Mr. Chetwode," +she added, turning towards the door, "we have barely a quarter of an +hour to get to the Carlton. I dare not be late. The only person," +she went on, as they passed through the outer office and Arnold +paused for a moment to take down his hat and coat, "whom I really +fear in this world is Andrea." + +Mr. Weatherley remained for a moment in the chair where she had left +him, gazing idly at the counterfoil of the cheque. Then he rose and +from a safe point of vantage watched the car drive off. With slow, +leaden footsteps he returned to his seat. It was past his own +regular luncheon hour, but he made no movement to leave the place. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +AN INTERRUPTED LUNCHEON + + +The great car swung to the right, out of Tooley Street and joined +the stream of traffic making its slow way across London Bridge. +Fenella took the tube from its place by her side and spoke in +Italian to the chauffeur. When she replaced it, she turned to +Arnold. + +"Do you understand what I said?" she asked. + +"Only a word or two," he replied. "You told him to go somewhere else +instead of to the Carlton, didn't you?" + +She nodded, and lay back for a moment, silent, among the luxurious +cushions. Her mood seemed suddenly to have changed. She was no +longer gay. She watched the faces of the passers-by pensively. +Presently she pointed out of the window to a gray-bearded old man +tottering along in the gutter with a trayful of matches. A cold wind +was blowing through his rags. + +"Look!" she exclaimed. "Look at that! In my own country, yes, but +here I do not understand. They tell me that this is the richest city +in the world, and the most charitable." + +"There must be poor everywhere," Arnold replied, a little puzzled. + +She stared at him. + +"It is not your laws I would complain of," she said. "It is your +individuals. Look at him--a poor, shivering, starved creature, +watching a constant stream of well-fed, well-clothed, smug men of +business, passing always within a few feet of him. Why does he not +help himself to what he wants?" + +"How can he?" Arnold asked. "There is a policeman within a few yards +of him. The law stands always in the way." + +"The law!" she repeated, scornfully. "It is a pleasant word, that, +which you use. The law is the artificial bogey made by the men who +possess to keep those others in the gutter. And they tell me that +there are half a million of them in London--and they suffer--like +that. Could your courts of justice hold half a million law-breakers +who took an overcoat from a better clad man, or the price of a meal +from a sleek passer-by, or bread from the shop which taunted their +hunger? They do not know their strength, those who suffer." + +Arnold looked at her in sheer amazement. It was surely a strange +woman who spoke! There was no sympathy in her face or tone. The idea +of giving alms to the man seemed never to have occurred to her. She +spoke with clouded face, as one in anger. + +"Don't you believe," he asked, "in the universal principle, the +survival of the fittest? Where there is wealth there must be +poverty." + +She laughed. + +"Change your terms," she suggested; "where there are robbers there +must be victims. But one may despise the victims all the same. One +may find their content, or rather their inaction, ignoble." + +"Generally speaking, it is the industrious who prosper," he +affirmed. + +She shook her head. + +"If that were so, all would be well," she declared. "As a matter of +fact, it is entirely an affair of opportunity and temperament." + +"Why, you are a socialist," he said. "You should come and talk to my +friend Isaac." + +"I am not a socialist because I do not care one fig about others," +she objected. "It is only myself I think of." + +"If you do not sympathize with laws, you at least recognize morals?" + +She laughed gayly, leaning back against the dark green upholstery +and showing her flawless teeth; her long, narrow eyes with their +seductive gleam flashed into his. A lighter spirit possessed her. + +"Not other people's," she declared. "I have my own code and I live +by it. As for you,--" + +She paused. Her sudden fit of gayety seemed to pass. + +"As for me?" he murmured. + +"I am a little conscience-stricken," she said slowly. "I think I +ought to have left you where you were. I am not at all sure that you +would not have been happier. You are a very nice boy, Mr. Arnold +Chetwode, much too good for that stuffy little office in Tooley +Street, but I do not know whether it is really for your good if one +is inclined to try and help you to escape. If you saw another man +holding a position you wanted yourself, would you throw him out, if +you could, by sheer force, or would you think of your laws and your +morals?" + +"It depends a little upon how much I wanted it," he confessed. + +She laughed. + +"Ah! I see, then, that there are hopes of you," she admitted. "You +should read the reign of Queen Elizabeth if you would know what +Englishmen should be like. You know, I had an English mother, and +she was descended from Francis Drake.... Ah, we are arrived!" + +They had lost themselves somewhere between Oxford Street and Regent +Street. The car pulled up in front of a restaurant which Arnold had +certainly never seen or heard of before. It was quite small, and it +bore the name "Cafe Andre" painted upon the wall. The lower windows +were all concealed by white curtains. The entrance hall was small, +and there was no commissionnaire. Fenella, who led the way in, did +not turn into the restaurant but at once ascended the stairs. Arnold +followed her, his sense of curiosity growing stronger at every +moment. On the first landing there were two doors with glass tops. +She opened one and motioned him to enter. + +"Will you wait for me for a few moments?" she said. "I am going to +telephone." + +He entered at once. She turned and passed into the room on the other +side of the landing. Arnold glanced around him with some curiosity. +The room was well appointed and a luncheon table was laid for four +people. There were flowers upon the table, and the glass and cutlery +were superior to anything one might have expected from a restaurant +in this vicinity. The window looked down into the street. Arnold +stood before it for a moment or two. The traffic below was +insignificant, but the roar of Oxford Street, only a few yards +distant, came to his ears even through the closed window. He +listened thoughtfully, and then, before he realized the course his +thoughts were taking, he found himself thinking of Ruth. In a +certain sense he was superstitious about Ruth and her forebodings. +He found himself wondering what she would have said if she could +have seen him there and known that it was Fenella who had brought +him. And he himself--what did he think of it? A week ago, his life +had been so commonplace that his head and his heart had ached with +the monotony of it. And now Fenella had come and had shown him +already strange things. He seemed to have passed into a world where +mysterious happenings were an every-day occurrence, into a world +peopled by strange men and women who always carried secrets about +with them. And, in a sense, no one was more mysterious than Fenella +herself. He asked himself as he stood there whether her vagaries +were merely temperamental, the air of mystery which seemed to +surround her simply accidental. He thought of that night at her +house, the curious intimacy which from the first moment she had +seemed to take for granted, the confidence with which she had +treated him. He remembered those few breathless moments in her room, +the man's hand upon the window-sill, with the strange colored ring, +worn with almost flagrant ostentation. And then, with a +lightning-like transition of thought, the gleam of the hand with +that self-same ring, raised to strike a murderous blow, which he had +seen for a moment through the doors of the Milan. The red seal ring +upon the finger--what did it mean? A doubt chilled him for a moment. +He told himself with passionate insistence, that it was not possible +that she could know of these things. Her words were idle, her +theories a jest. He turned away from the window and caught up a +morning paper, resolved to escape from his thoughts. The first +headline stared up at him: + + THE ROSARIO MURDER. + SENSATIONAL ARREST EXPECTED. + RUMORED EXTRAORDINARY DISCLOSURES. + +He threw the paper down again. Then the door was suddenly opened, +and Fenella appeared. She rang a bell. + +"I am going to order luncheon," she announced. "My brother will be +here directly." + +Arnold bowed, a little absently. Against his will, he was listening +to voices on the landing outside. One he knew to be Starling's, the +other was Count Sabatini's. He closed his ears to their speech, but +there was no doubt whatever that the voice of Starling shook with +fear. A moment or two later the two men entered the room. Count +Sabatini came forward with outstretched hand. A rare smile parted +his lips. He looked a very distinguished and very polished +gentleman. + +"I am pleased to meet you again, Mr. Chetwode," he said, "the more +pleased because I understand from my sister that we are to have the +pleasure of your company for luncheon." + +"You are very kind," Arnold murmured. + +"Mr. Starling--I believe that you met the other night," Count +Sabatini continued. + +Arnold held out his hand but could scarcely repress a start. +Starling seemed to have lost weight. His cheeks were almost +cadaverous, his eyes hollow. His slight arrogance of bearing had +gone; he gave one a most unpleasant impression. + +"I remember Mr. Starling quite well," Arnold said. "We met also, I +think, at the Milan Hotel, a few minutes after the murder of Mr. +Rosario." + +Starling shook hands limply. Sabatini smiled. + +"A memorable occasion," he remarked. "Let us take luncheon now. +Gustave," he added, turning to the waiter who had just entered the +room, "serve the luncheon at once. It is a queer little place, this, +Mr. Chetwode," he went on, turning to Arnold, "but I can promise you +that the omelette, at least, is as served in my own country." + +They took their places at the table, and Arnold, at any rate, found +it a very pleasant party. Sabatini was no longer gloomy and +taciturn. His manner still retained a little of its deliberation, +but towards Arnold especially he was more than courteous. He seemed, +indeed, to have the desire to attract. Fenella was almost +bewitching. She had recovered her spirits, and she talked to him +often in a half audible undertone, the familiarity of which gave him +a curious pleasure. Starling alone was silent and depressed. He +drank a good deal, but ate scarcely anything. Every passing footstep +upon the stairs outside alarmed him; every time voices were heard he +stopped to listen. Sabatini glanced towards him once with a scornful +flash in his black eyes. + +"One would imagine, my dear Starling, that you had committed a +crime!" he exclaimed. + +Starling raised his glass to his lips with shaking fingers, and +drained its contents. + +"I had too much champagne last night," he muttered. + +There was a moment's silence. Every one felt his statement to be a +lie. For some reason or other, the man was afraid. Arnold was +conscious of a sense of apprehension stealing over him. The touch of +Fenella's fingers upon his arm left him, for a moment, cold. +Sabatini turned his head slowly towards the speaker, and his face +had become like the face of an inquisitor, stern and merciless, with +the flavor of death in the cold, mirthless parting of the lips. + +"Then you drank a very bad brand, my friend," he declared. "Still, +even then, the worst champagne in the world should not give you +those ugly lines under the eyes, the scared appearance of a hunted +rabbit. One would imagine--" + +Starling struck the table a blow with his fist which set the glasses +jingling. + +"D--n it, stop, Sabatini!" he exclaimed. "Do you want to--" + +He broke off abruptly. He looked towards Arnold. He was breathing +heavily. His sudden fit of passion had brought an unwholesome flush +of color to his cheeks. + +"Why should I stop?" Sabatini proceeded, mercilessly. "Let me remind +you of my sister's presence. Your lack of self-control is +inexcusable. One would imagine that you had committed some evil +deed, that you were indeed an offender against the law." + +Again there was that tense silence. Starling looked around him with +the helpless air of a trapped animal. Arnold sat there, listening +and watching, completely fascinated. There was something which made +him shiver about the imperturbability, not only of Sabatini himself, +but of the woman who sat by his side. + +Sabatini poured himself out a glass of wine deliberately. + +"Who in the world," he demanded, "save a few unwholesome +sentimentalists, would consider the killing of Rosario a crime?" + +Starling staggered to his feet. His cheeks now were ashen. + +"You are mad!" he cried, pointing to Arnold. + +"Not in the least," Sabatini proceeded calmly. "I am not accusing +you of having killed Rosario. In any case, it would have been a +perfectly reasonable and even commendable deed. One can scarcely +understand your agitation. If you are really accused of having been +concerned in that little contretemps, why, here is our friend Mr. +Arnold Chetwode, who was present. No doubt he will be able to give +evidence in your favor." + +Arnold was speechless for a moment. Sabatini's manner was +incomprehensible. He spoke as one who alludes to some trivial +happening. Yet even his light words could not keep the shadow of +tragedy from the room. Even at that instant Arnold seemed suddenly +to see the flash of a hand through the glass-topped door, to hear +the hoarse cry of the stricken man. + +"I saw nothing but the man's hand!" he muttered, in a voice which he +would scarcely have recognized as his own. "I saw his hand and his +arm only. He wore a red signet ring." + +Sabatini inclined his head in an interested manner. + +"A singular coincidence," he remarked, pleasantly. "My sister has +already told me of your observation. It certainly is a point in +favor of our friend Starling. It sounds like the badge of some +secret society, and not even the most ardent romanticist would +suspect our friend Starling here of belonging to anything of the +sort." + +Starling had resumed his luncheon, and was making a great effort +at a show of indifference. Nevertheless, he watched Arnold uneasily. + +"Say, there's no sense in talking like this!" he muttered. "Mr. +Chetwode here will think you're in earnest." + +"There is, on the contrary, a very great deal of sound common +sense," Sabatini asserted, gently, "in all that I have said. I want +our young friend, Mr. Chetwode, to be a valued witness for the +defense when the misguided gentlemen from Scotland Yard choose to +lay a hand upon your shoulder. One should always be prepared, my +friend, for possibilities. You great--" + +He stopped short. Starling, with a smothered oath, had sprung to his +feet. The eyes of every one were turned toward the wall; a small +electric bell was ringing violently. For the next few moments, +events marched swiftly. Starling, with incredible speed, had left +the room by the inner door. A waiter had suddenly appeared as though +by magic, and of the fourth place at table there seemed to be left +no visible signs. All the time, Sabatini, unmoved, continued to roll +his cigarette. Then there came a tapping at the door. + + [Illustration: The eyes of every one were turned toward the wall. + _Page 97_.] + +"See who is there," Sabatini instructed the waiter. + +Gustave, his napkin in his hand, threw open the door. A young man +presented himself--a person of ordinary appearance, with a notebook +sticking out of his pocket. His eyes seemed to take in at once the +little party. He advanced a few steps into the room. + +"You are perhaps not aware, sir," Sabatini said gently, "that this +is a private apartment." + +The young man bowed. + +"I must apologize for my intrusion, sir and madame," he declared, +looking towards Fenella. "I am a reporter on the staff of the +_Daily Unit_, and I am exceedingly anxious to interview--you will +pardon me!" + +With a sudden swift movement he crossed the room, passed into the +inner apartment and disappeared. Sabatini rose to his feet. + +"I propose," he said, "that we complain to the proprietor of this +excitable young journalist, and take our coffee in the palm court at +the Carlton." + +Fenella also rose and stepped in front of the looking-glass. + +"It is good," she declared. "I stay with you for one half hour. +Afterwards I have a bridge party. You will come with us, Mr. +Chetwode?" + +Arnold did not at once reply. He was gazing at the inner door. Every +moment he expected to hear--what? It seemed to him that tragedy was +there, the greatest tragedy of all--the hunting of man! Sabatini +yawned. + +"Those others," he declared, "must settle their own little +differences. After all, it is not our affair." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +JARVIS IS JUSTLY DISTURBED + + +It was fully half-past three before Arnold found himself back in +Tooley Street. He hung up his coat and hat and was preparing to +enter Mr. Weatherley's room when the chief clerk saw him. Mr. Jarvis +had been standing outside, superintending the unloading of several +dray loads of American bacon. He laid his hand upon Arnold's +shoulder. + +"One moment, Chetwode," he said. "I want to speak to you out here." + +Arnold followed him to a retired part of the warehouse. Mr. Jarvis +leaned against an old desk belonging to one of the porters. + +"You are very late, Chetwode," he remarked. + +"I am sorry, but I was detained," Arnold answered. "I will explain +it to Mr. Weatherley directly I go in." + +Mr. Jarvis coughed. + +"Of course," he said, "as you went out with Mrs. Weatherley I +suppose it's none of my business as to your hours, but you must know +that to come back from lunch at half-past three is most irregular, +especially as you are practically junior in the place." + +"I quite agree with you," Arnold assented, "but, you see, I really +couldn't help myself to-day. I don't suppose it is likely to happen +again. Is that all that you wanted to speak to me about?" + +"Not altogether," Mr. Jarvis admitted. "To tell you the truth," he +went on, confidentially, "I wanted to ask you a question or two." + +"Well, look sharp, then," Arnold said, good-humoredly. "I dare say +Mr. Weatherley will be getting impatient, and he probably saw me +come in." + +"I want to ask you," Mr. Jarvis began, impressively, "whether you +noticed anything peculiar about the governor's manner this morning?" + +"I don't think so--not especially," Arnold replied. + +Mr. Jarvis took off his gold-rimmed spectacles and wiped them +carefully. + +"Mr. Weatherley," he proceeded, "has always been a gentleman of very +regular habits--he and his father before him. I have been in the +service of the firm for thirty-five years, Mr. Chetwode, so you can +understand that my interest is not merely a business one." + +"Quite so," Arnold agreed, glancing at the man by his side with a +momentary curiosity. He had been in Tooley Street for four months, +and even now he was still unused to the close atmosphere, the +pungent smells, the yellow fog which seemed always more or less to +hang about in the streets; the dark, cavernous-looking warehouse +with its gloomy gas-jets always burning. From where they were +standing at that moment, the figures of the draymen and warehousemen +moving backwards and forwards seemed like phantoms in some +subterranean world. It was odd to think of thirty-five years spent +amid such surroundings! + +"It is a long time," he remarked. + +Mr. Jarvis nodded. + +"I mention it," he said, "so that you may understand that my +remarks to you are not dictated by curiosity or impertinence. Mr. +Weatherley's behavior and mode of life has been entirely changed, +Chetwode, since his marriage." + +"I can understand that," Arnold replied, with a faint smile. What, +indeed, had so beautiful a creature as Fenella to do with Samuel +Weatherley of Tooley Street! + +"Mrs. Weatherley," Mr. Jarvis continued, "is, no doubt, a very +beautiful and accomplished lady. Whether she is a suitable wife for +Mr. Weatherley I am not in a position to judge, never having had the +opportunity of speech with her, but as regards the effect of his +marriage upon Mr. Weatherley, I should like you to understand, +Chetwode, at once, that it is my opinion, and the opinion of all of +us, and of all his business friends, that a marked change for the +worse in Mr. Weatherley has set in during the last few months." + +"I am sorry to hear it," Arnold interposed. + +"You, of course," Mr. Jarvis went on, "could scarcely have noticed +it, as you have been here so short a time, but I can assure you that +a year or so ago the governor was a different person altogether. He +was out in the warehouse half the morning, watching the stuff being +unloaded, sampling it, and suggesting customers. He took a live +interest in the business, Chetwode. He was here, there and +everywhere. To-day--for the last few weeks, indeed--he has scarcely +left his office. He sits there, signs a few letters, listens to what +I have to say, and goodness knows how he spends the rest of his +time. Where the business would be," Mr. Jarvis continued, rubbing +his chin thoughtfully, "if it were not for us who know the running +of it so well, I can't say, but a fact it is that Mr. Weatherley +seems to have lost all interest in it." + +"I wonder he doesn't retire," Arnold suggested. + +Mr. Jarvis looked at him in amazement. + +"Retire!" he exclaimed. "Why should he retire? What would he do? +Isn't it as comfortable for him to read his newspaper over the fire +in the office here as at home? Isn't it better for him to have his +friends all around him, as he has here, than to sit up in his +drawing-room in business hours with never a soul to speak to? Such +men as Mr. Weatherley, Chetwode, or as Mr. Weatherley's father was, +don't retire. If they do, it means the end." + +"Well, I'm sorry to hear what you tell me," Arnold said. "I haven't +seen much of Mr. Weatherley, of course, but he seems devoted to his +wife." + +"Infatuated, sir! Infatuated is the word!" Mr. Jarvis declared. + +"She is very charming," Arnold remarked, thoughtfully. + +Mr. Jarvis looked as though there were many things which he could +have said but refrained from saying. + +"You will not suggest, Chetwode," he asked, "that she married Mr. +Weatherley for any other reason than because he was a rich man?" + +Arnold was silent for a moment. Somehow or other, he had accepted +the fact of her being Mrs. Weatherley without thinking much as to +its significance. + +"I suppose," he admitted, "that Mr. Weatherley's money was an +inducement." + +"There is never anything but evil," Mr. Jarvis declared, "comes from +a man or a woman marrying out of their own circle of friends. Now +Mr. Weatherley might have married a dozen ladies from his own circle +here. One I know of, a very handsome lady, too, whose father has +been Lord Mayor. And then there's young Tidey's sisters, in the +office there. Any one of them would have been most suitable. But no! +Some unlucky chance seems to have sent Mr. Weatherley on that +continental journey, and when you once get away from England, why, +of course, anything may happen. I don't wish to say anything against +Mrs. Weatherley, mind," Mr. Jarvis continued, "but she comes from +the wrong class of people to make a city man a good wife, and I +can't help associating her and her friends and her manner of living +with the change that's come over Mr. Weatherley." + +Arnold swung himself up on to the top of a barrel and sat looking +down at his companion. + +"Mr. Jarvis," he said, "you and I see this matter, naturally, from +very different standpoints. You have known Mr. Weatherley for +thirty-five years. I have known him for four months, and he never +spoke a word to me until a few days ago. Practically, therefore, I +have known Mr. and Mrs. Weatherley the same length of time. Under +the circumstances, I must tell you frankly that my sympathies are +with Mrs. Weatherley. Not only have I found her a very charming +woman, but she has been most unnecessarily kind to me." + +Mr. Jarvis was silent for a moment. + +"I had forgotten," he admitted, "that that might be your point of +view. It isn't, of course, possible to look for any feeling of +loyalty for the chief from any one who has only been here a matter +of a few months. Perhaps I was wrong to have spoken to you at all, +Chetwode." + +"If there is anything I can do," Arnold began,-- + +"It's in this way," Mr. Jarvis interrupted. "Owing, I dare say, to +Mrs. Weatherley, you have certainly been put in a unique position +here. You see more of Mr. Weatherley now than any one of us. For +that reason I was anxious to make a confidant of you. I tell you +that I am worried about Mr. Weatherley. He is a rich man and a +prosperous man. There is no reason why he should sit in his office +and gaze into the fire and look out of the window as though the +place were full of shadows and he hated the sight of them. Yet that +is what he does nowadays, Chetwode. What does it mean? I ask you +frankly. Haven't you noticed yourself that his behavior is +peculiar?" + +"Now you mention it," Arnold replied, "I certainly have noticed that +he was very strange in his manner this morning. He seemed very upset +about that Rosario murder. Mr. Rosario was at his house the other +night, you know. Were they great friends, do you think?" + +Mr. Jarvis shook his head. + +"Not at all," he said. "He was simply, I believe, one of Mrs. +Weatherley's society acquaintances. But that there's something gone +wrong with Mr. Weatherley, no one would deny who sees him as he is +now and knows him as he was a year or so ago. There's Johnson, the +foreman packer, who's been here as long as I have; and Elwick, the +carter; and Huemmel, in the export department;--we've all been +talking together about this." + +"He doesn't speculate, I suppose?" Arnold enquired. + +"Not a ha'penny," Mr. Jarvis replied, fervently. "He has spent large +sums of money since his marriage, but he can afford it. It isn't +money that's worrying him." + +"Perhaps he doesn't hit it off with his wife," Arnold remarked. + +Mr. Jarvis drew a little breath. For a moment he was speechless. To +him it seemed something like profanity that this young man should +make so casual a suggestion. + +"Mrs. Weatherley, sir," he declared, "was, I believe, without any +means whatever when Mr. Weatherley made her his wife. Mr. +Weatherley, as you know, is at the head of this house, the house of +Samuel Weatherley & Co., bankers Lloyds. It should be the business +of the lady, sir, to see that she hits it off, as you put it, with a +husband who has done her so much honor." + +Arnold smiled. + +"That is all very well, Mr. Jarvis," he said, "but you must remember +that Mrs. Weatherley had compensations for her lack of wealth. She +is very beautiful, and she is, too, of a different social rank." + +Mr. Jarvis was frankly scornful. + +"Why, she was a foreigner," he declared. "I should like to know of +what account any foreign family is against our good city firms, such +as I have been speaking of. No, Chetwode, my opinion is that she's +brought a lot of her miserable, foreign hangers-on over here, and +that somehow or other they are worrying Mr. Weatherley. I should +like, if I could, to interest you in the chief. You can't be +expected to feel as I do towards him. At the same time, he is the +head of the firm, and you are bound, therefore, to feel a certain +respect due to him, and I thought that if I talked to you and put +these matters before you, which have occurred not only to me but to +those others who have been with Mr. Weatherley for so many years, +you might be able to help us by watching, and if you can find any +clue as to what is bothering him, why, I'd be glad to hear of it, +for there isn't one of us who wouldn't do anything that lay in his +power to have the master back once more as he used to be a few years +ago. Why, the business seems to have lost all its spring, nowadays," +Mr. Jarvis went on, mournfully. "We do well, of course, because we +couldn't help doing well, but we plod along more like a machine. It +was different altogether in the days when Mr. Weatherley used to +bring out the morning orders himself and chaff us about selling for +no profit. You follow me, Chetwode?" + +"I'll do what I can," Arnold agreed. "Of course, I see your point of +view, and I must admit that the governor does seem depressed about +something or other." + +"If anything turns up," Mr. Jarvis asked eagerly, "anything +tangible, I mean, you'll tell me of it, won't you, there's a good +fellow? Of course, I suppose your future is outside my control now, +but I engaged you first, you know, Chetwode. There aren't many +things done here that I haven't a say in." + +"You may rely upon me," Arnold promised, slipping down from the +barrel. "He's really quite a decent old chap, and if I can find out +what's worrying him, and can help, I'll do it." + +Mr. Jarvis went back to his labors and Arnold made his way to Mr. +Weatherley's room. His first knock remained unanswered. The "Come +in!" which procured for him admittance at his second attempt sounded +both flurried and startled. Mr. Weatherley had the air of one who +has been engaged in some criminal task. He drew the blotting-paper +over the letter which he had been writing as Arnold entered. + +"Oh! it's you, is it, Chetwode?" he remarked, with an air of +relief. "So you're back, eh? Pleasant luncheon?" + +"Very pleasant indeed, thank you, sir," Arnold replied. + +"Mrs. Weatherley send any message?" her husband asked, with +ill-assumed indifference. + +"None at all, sir." + +Mr. Weatherley sighed. He seemed a little disappointed. + +"Did you lunch at the Carlton?" + +"We took our coffee there afterwards," Arnold said. "We lunched at a +small foreign restaurant near Oxford Street." + +"The Count Sabatini was there?" + +"Yes, sir," Arnold told him. "Also Mr. Starling." + +Mr. Weatherley nodded slowly. + +"How do you get on with Count Sabatini?" he inquired. "Rather a +gloomy person, eh?" + +"I found him very pleasant, sir," Arnold said. "He was good enough +to ask me to dine with him to-night." + +Mr. Weatherley looked up, a little startled. + +"Invited you to dine with him?" he repeated. + +Arnold nodded. + +"I thought it was very kind of him, sir." + +Mr. Weatherley sat quite still in his chair. He had obviously +forgotten his secretary's presence in the room, and Arnold, who had +seated himself at his desk and was engaged in sorting out some +papers, took the opportunity now and then to glance up and +scrutinize with some attention his employer's features. There were +certainly traces there of the change at which Mr. Jarvis had hinted. +Mr. Weatherley had the appearance of a man who had once been florid +and prosperous and comfortable-looking, but who had been visited by +illness or some sort of anxiety. His cheeks were still fat, but they +hung down toward the jaw, and his eyes were marked with crowsfeet. +His color was unhealthy. He certainly had no longer the look of a +prosperous and contented man. + +"Chetwode," he said slowly, after a long pause, "I am not sure that +I did you a kindness when I asked you to come to my house the other +night." + +"I thought so, at any rate, sir," Arnold replied. "It has been a +great pleasure to me to make Mrs. Weatherley's acquaintance." + +"I am glad that my wife has been kind to you," Mr. Weatherley +continued, "but I hope you will not misunderstand me, Chetwode, when +I say that I am not sure that such kindness is for your good. Mrs. +Weatherley's antecedents are romantic, and she has many friends +whose position in life is curiously different from my own, and whose +ideas and methods of life are not such as I should like a son of my +own to adopt. The Count Sabatini, for instance," Mr. Weatherley went +on, "is a nobleman who has had, I believe, a brilliant career, in +some respects, but who a great many people would tell you is a man +without principles or morals, as we understand them down here. He is +just the sort of man to attract youth because he is brave, and I +believe him to be incapable of a really despicable action. But +notwithstanding this, and although he is my wife's brother, if I +were you I would not choose him for a companion." + +"I am very much obliged to you, sir," Arnold answered, a little +awkwardly. "I shall bear in mind all that you have said. You do not +object, I presume, to my dining with him to-night?" + +"I have no objection to anything you may do outside this building," +Mr. Weatherley replied, "but as you are only a youngster, and you +met the Count Sabatini at my house, I feel it only right to give you +a word of warning. I may be wrong. One gets fancies sometimes, and +there are some strange doings--not that they concern you, however," +he added, hurriedly; "only you are a young man with your way to make +in the world, and every chance of making it, I should think; but it +won't do for you to get too many of Count Sabatini's ideas into your +head if you are going to do any good at a wholesome, honest business +like this." + +"I quite understand, sir," Arnold assented. "I don't suppose that +Count Sabatini will ask me to dine with him again. I think it was +just kindness that made him think of it. In any case, I am not in a +position to associate with these people regularly, at present, and +that alone would preclude me from accepting invitations." + +"You're young and strong," Mr. Weatherley said thoughtfully. "You +must fight your own battle. You start, somehow, differently than I +did. You see," he went on, with the air of one indulging in +reminiscences, "my father was in this business and I was brought up +to it. We lived only a stone's throw away then, in Bermondsey, and I +went to the City of London School. At fourteen I was in the office +here, and a partner at twenty-one. I never went out of England till +I was over forty. I had plenty of friends, but they were all of one +class. They wouldn't suit Mrs. Weatherley or the Count Sabatini. I +have lost a good many of them.... You weren't brought up to +business, Chetwode?" he asked suddenly. + +"I was not, sir," Arnold admitted. + +"What made you come into it?" + +"Poverty, sir," Arnold answered. "I had only a few shillings in the +world when I walked in and asked Mr. Jarvis for a situation." + +Mr. Weatherley sighed. + +"Your people are gentlefolk, I expect," he said. "You have the look +of it." + +Arnold did not reply. Mr. Weatherley shrugged his shoulders. + +"Well," he concluded, "you must look after yourself, only remember +what I have said. By the bye, Chetwode, I am going to repose a +certain amount of confidence in you." + +Arnold looked up from his desk. + +"I think you may safely do so, sir," he declared. + +Mr. Weatherley slowly opened a drawer at his right hand and produced +two letters. He carefully folded up the sheet upon which he had been +writing, and also addressed that. + +"I cannot enter into explanations with you about this matter, +Chetwode," he said, "but I require your promise that what I say to +you now is not mentioned in the warehouse or to any one until the +time comes which I am about to indicate. You are my confidential +secretary and I have a right, I suppose, to demand your silence." + +"Certainly, sir," Arnold assured him. + +"There is just a possibility," Mr. Weatherley declared, speaking +thoughtfully and looking out of the window, "that I may be compelled +to take a sudden and quite unexpected journey. If this be so, I +should have to leave without a word to any one--to any one, you +understand." + +Arnold was puzzled, but he murmured a word of assent. + +"In case this should happen," Mr. Weatherley went on, "and I have +not time to communicate with any of you, I am leaving in your +possession these two letters. One is addressed jointly to you and +Mr. Jarvis, and the other to Messrs. Turnbull & James, Solicitors, +Bishopsgate Street Within. Now I give these letters into your +charge. We shall lock them up together in this small safe which I +told you you could have for your own papers," Mr. Weatherley +continued, rising to his feet and crossing the room. "There you are, +you see. The safe is empty at present, so you will not need to go to +it. I am locking them up," he added, taking a key from his pocket, +"and there is the key. Now you understand?" + +"But surely, sir," Arnold began,-- + +"The matter is quite simple," Mr. Weatherley interrupted, sharply. +"To put it plainly, if I am missing at any time, if anything should +happen to me, or if I should disappear, go to that safe, take out +the letters, open your own and deliver the other. That is all you +have to do." + +"Quite so, sir," Arnold replied. "I understand perfectly. I see that +there is none for Mrs. Weatherley. Would you wish any message to be +sent to her?" + +Mr. Weatherley was silent for a moment. A boy passed along the +pavement with a bundle of evening papers. Mr. Weatherley tapped at +the window. + +"Hurry out and get me a _Star_, Chetwode," he ordered. + +Arnold obeyed him and returned a few moments later with a paper in +his hand. Mr. Weatherley spread out the damp sheet under the +electric light. He studied it for a few moments intently, and then +folded it up. + +"It will not be necessary for you, Chetwode," he said, "to +communicate with my wife specially." + +The accidental arrangement of his employer's coat and hat upon the +rack suddenly struck Arnold. + +"Why, I don't believe that you have been out to lunch, sir!" he +exclaimed. + +Mr. Weatherley looked as though the idea were a new one to him. + +"To tell you the truth," he said, "I completely forgot. Help me on +with my coat, Chetwode. There is nothing more to be done to-day. I +will call and get some tea somewhere on my way home." + +He rose to his feet, a little heavily. + +"Tell them to get me a taxicab," he directed. "I don't feel much +like walking to-day, and they are not sending for me." + +Arnold sent the errand-boy off to London Bridge. Mr. Weatherley +stood before the window looking out into the murky atmosphere. + +"I hope, Chetwode," he said, "that I haven't said anything to make +you believe that there is anything wrong with me, or to give you +cause for uneasiness. This journey of which I spoke may never become +necessary. In that case, after a certain time has elapsed, we will +destroy those letters." + +"I trust that it never may become necessary to open them, sir," +Arnold remarked. + +"As regards what I said to you about the Count," Mr. Weatherley +continued, after a moment's hesitation, "remember who I am that +give you the advice, and who you are that receive it. Your +bringing-up, I should imagine, has been different. Still, a young +man of your age has to make up his mind what sort of a life he means +to lead. I suppose, to a good many people," he went on, +reflectively, "my life would seem a common, dull, plodding affair. +Somehow or other, I didn't seem to find it so until--until lately. +Still, there it is. I suppose I have lived in a little corner of the +world, and what seems strange and wild to me might, after all, seem +not so much out of the way to a young man with different ideas like +you. Only, this much I do believe, at any rate," he went on, +buttoning up his coat and watching the taxicab which was coming +along the street; "if you want a quiet, honest life, doing your duty +to yourself and others, and living according to the old-fashioned +standards of honesty and upright living, then when you have had that +dinner with the Count Sabatini to-night, forget him, forget where he +lives. Come back to your work here, and if the things of which the +Count has been talking to you seem to have more glamor, forget them +all the more zealously. The best sort of life is always the grayest. +The life which attracts is generally the one to be avoided. We don't +do our duty," Mr. Weatherley added, brushing his hat upon his sleeve +reflectively, "by always looking out upon the pleasurable side of +life. Good evening, Chetwode!" + +He turned away so abruptly that Arnold had scarcely time to return +his greeting. It seemed so strange to him to be talked to at such +length by a man whom he had scarcely heard utter half a dozen words +in his life, that he was left speechless. He was still standing +before the window when Mr. Weatherley crossed the pavement to the +waiting taxicab. In his walk and attitude the signs of the man's +deterioration were obvious. The little swagger of his younger days +was gone, the bumptiousness of his bearing forgotten. He cast no +glance up and down the pavement to hail an acquaintance. He muttered +an address to the driver and stepped heavily into the taxicab. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +CASTLES IN SPAIN + + +Ruth welcomed him with her usual smile--once he had thought it the +most beautiful thing in the world. In the twilight of the April +evening her face gleamed almost marble white. He dragged a footstool +up to her side. + +"Little woman, you are looking pale," he declared. "Give me your +hands to hold. Can't you see that I have come just at the right +time? Even the coal barges look like phantom boats. See, there is +the first light." + +She shook her head slowly. + +"To-night," she murmured, "there will be no ships, Arnold. I have +looked and looked and I am sure. Light the lamp, please." + +"Why?" he asked, obeying her as a matter of course. + +She turned in her chair. + +"Do you think that I cannot tell?" she continued. "Didn't I see you +turn the corner there, didn't I hear your step three flights down? +Sometimes I have heard it come, and it sounds like something leaden +beating time to the music of despair. And to-night you tripped up +like a boy home for the holidays. You are going out to-night, +Arnold." + +He nodded. + +"A man whom I met the other night has asked me to dine with him," he +announced. + +"A man! You are not going to see her, then?" + +He laughed gayly and placed his hand upon the fingers which had +drawn him towards her. + +"Silly girl!" he declared. "No, I am going to dine alone with her +brother, the Count Sabatini. You see, I am private secretary now to +a merchant prince, no longer a clerk in a wholesale provision +merchant's office. We climb, my dear Ruth. Soon I am going to ask +for a holiday, and then we'll make Isaac leave his beastly lecturing +and scurrilous articles, and come away with us somewhere for a day +or two. You would like a few days in the country, Ruth?" + +Her eyes met his gratefully. + +"You know that I should love it, dear," she said, "but, Arnie, do +you think that when the time for the holiday comes you will want to +take us?" + +He sat on the arm of her chair and held her hand. + +"Foolish little woman!" he exclaimed. "Do you think that I am likely +to forget? Why, I must have shared your supper nearly every night +for a month, while I was walking about trying to find something to +do. People don't forget who have lived through that sort of times, +Ruth." + +She sighed. Strangely enough, her tone had in it something of vague +regret. + +"For your sake, dear, I am glad that they are over." + +"Things, too, will improve with you," he declared. "They shall +improve. If only Isaac would turn sensible! He has brains and he is +clever enough, if he weren't stuffed full with that foolish +socialism." + +She looked around the room and drew him a little closer to her. + +"Arnold," she whispered, "now that you have spoken of it, let me +tell you this. Sometimes I am afraid. Isaac is so mysterious. Do you +know that he is away often for the whole day, and comes back white +and exhausted, worn to a shadow, and sleeps for many hours? +Sometimes he is in his room all right, but awake. I can hear him +moving backwards and forwards, and hammering, tap, tap, tap, for +hours." + +"What does he do?" Arnold asked quickly. + +"He has some sort of a little printing press in his room," she +answered. "He prints some awful sheet there which the police have +stopped. The night before last he had a message and everything was +hidden. He spent hours with his face to the window, watching. I am +so afraid that sometimes he goes outside the law. Arnold, I am +afraid of what might happen to him. There are terrible things in his +face if I ask him questions. And he moves about and mutters like a +man in a dream--no, like a man in a nightmare!" + +Arnold frowned, and looked up at the sky-signs upon the other side +of the river. + +"I, too, wish he were different, dear," he said. "He certainly is a +dangerous protector for you." + +"He is the only one I have," the girl replied, with a sigh, "and +sometimes, when he remembers, he is so kind. But that is not often +now." + +"What do you do when he is away for all this time?" Arnold asked +quickly. "Are you properly looked after? You ought to have some one +here." + +"Mrs. Sands comes twice a day, always," she declared. "It is not +myself I trouble about, really. Isaac is good in that way. He pays +Mrs. Sands always in advance. He tries even to buy wine for me, and +he often brings me home fruit. When he has money, I am sure that he +gives it to me. It isn't that so much, Arnold, but I get frightened +of his getting into trouble. Now that room of his has got on my +nerves. When I hear that tap, tap, in the night, I am terrified." + +"Will you let me speak to him about it, Ruth?" + +Her face was suddenly full of terror. + +"Arnie, you mustn't think of it," she begged. "He would never +forgive me--never. The first time I asked him what was going on +there, I thought that he would have struck me." + +"Would you like me to go in and see next time he is out?" + +She shivered. + +"Not for the world," she replied. "Besides, you couldn't. He has +fixed on a Yale lock himself. No one could open the door." + +"You have never seen what he prints?" + +"Never," she replied. "He knows that I hate the sight of those +pamphlets. He never shows them to me. He had a man to see him the +other night--the strangest-looking man I ever saw--and they talked +in whispers for hours. I saw the man's face when he went out. It was +white and evil. And, Arnold, it was the face of a man steeped in sin +to the lips. I wish I hadn't seen it," she went on, drearily. "It +haunts me." + +He did his best to reassure her. + +"Little Ruth," he said, "you have been up here too long without a +holiday. Wait till Saturday afternoon, when I draw my new salary for +the first time. I shall hire a taxicab. We will have it open and +drive out into the country." + +Her face lit up for a moment. Her beautiful eyes were soft, although +a few seconds later they were swimming with tears. + +"Do you think you will want to go when Saturday afternoon comes?" +she asked. "Don't you think, perhaps, that your new friends may +invite you to go and see them? I am so jealous of your new friends, +Arnold." + +He drew her a little closer to him. There was something very +pathetic in her complete dependence upon him, a few months ago a +stranger. They had both been waifs, brought together by a wave of +common adversity. Her intense weakness had made the same appeal to +him as his youth and strength to her. There was almost a lump in his +throat as he answered her. + +"You aren't really feeling like that, Ruth?" he begged. "Don't! My +new friends are part of the new life. You wouldn't have me cling to +the old any longer than I can help? Why, you and I together have sat +here hour after hour and prayed for a change, prayed for the mystic +treasure that might come to us from those ships of chance. Dear, if +mine comes first, it brings good for you, too. You can't believe +that I should forget?" + +For the first time in his life he bent over and kissed her upon the +lips. She suffered his caress not only without resistance but for a +single moment her arms clasped his neck passionately. Then she drew +away abruptly. + +"I don't know what I'm doing!" she panted. "You mustn't kiss me like +that! You mustn't, Arnold!" + +She began to cry, but before he could attempt to console her she +dashed the tears away. + +"Oh, we're impossible, both of us!" she declared. "But then, a poor +creature like me must always be impossible. It isn't quite kind of +fate, is it, to give any one a woman's heart and a woman's +loneliness, and the poor frame of a hopeless invalid." + +"You're not a hopeless invalid," he assured her, earnestly. "No one +would ever know, to look at you as you sit there, that there was +anything whatever the matter. Don't you remember our money-box for +the doctor? Even that will come, Ruth. The day will come, I am sure, +when we shall carry you off to Vienna, or one of those great cities, +and the cure will be quite easy. I believe in it, really." + +She sighed. + +"I used to love to hear you talk about it," she said, "but, somehow, +now it seems so far off. I don't even know that I want to be like +other women. There is only one thing I do want and that is to keep +you." + +"That," he declared, fervently, "you are sure of. Remember, Ruth, +that awful black month and what we suffered together. And you knew +nothing about me. I just found you sitting on the stairs with your +broken stick, waiting for some one to come and help you." + +She nodded. + +"And you picked me up and carried me into your room," she reminded +him. "You didn't have to stop and take breath as Isaac has to." + +"Why, no," he admitted, "I couldn't say you were heavy, dear. Some +day or other, though," he added, "you will be. Don't lose your +faith, Ruth. Don't let either of us leave off looking for the +ships." + +She smiled. + +"Very well," she said, letting her hand fall once more softly into +his, "I think that I am very foolish. I think that yours has come +already, dear, and I am worse than foolish, I am selfish, because I +once hoped that they might come together; that you and I might sit +here, Arnold, hand in hand, and watch them with great red sails, and +piles and piles of gold and beautiful things, with our names written +on so big that we could read them even here from the window." + +She burst into a peal of laughter. + +"Oh, those children's days! What an escape they, were for us in the +black times! Do you know that we once actually told one another +fairy stories?" + +"Not only that but we believed in them," he insisted. "I am +perfectly certain that the night you found my star, and it seemed to +us to keep on getting bigger and bigger while we looked at it, that +from that night things have been getting better with me." + +"At least," she declared, abruptly, "I am not going to spoil your +dinner by keeping you here talking nonsense. Carry me back, please, +Arnold. You must hurry up now and change your clothes. And, dear, +you had better not come in and wish me good-night. Isaac went out +this morning in one of his savage tempers, and he may be back at any +moment. Carry me back now, and have a beautiful evening. To-morrow +you must tell me all about it." + +He obeyed her. She was really only a trifle to lift, as light as +air. She clung to him longingly, even to the last minute. + +"And now, please, you are to kiss my forehead," she said, "and run +away." + +"Your forehead only?" he asked, bending over her. + +"My forehead only, please," she begged gravely. "The other doesn't +go with our fairy stories, dear. I want to go on believing in the +fairy stories...." + +Arnold had little enough time to dress, and he descended the stone +steps towards the street at something like a run. Half-way down, +however, he pulled up abruptly to avoid running into two men. One +was Isaac. His worn, white face, with hooked nose and jet-black +eyes, made him a noticeable figure even in the twilight. The other +man was so muffled up as to be unrecognizable. Arnold stopped short. + +"Glad you're home, Isaac," he said pleasantly. "I have just been +talking to Ruth. I thought she seemed rather queer." + +Isaac looked at him coldly from head to foot. Arnold was wearing his +only and ordinary overcoat, but his varnished shoes and white tie +betrayed him. + +"So you're wearing your cursed livery again!" he sneered. "You're +going to beg your bone from the rich man's plate." + +Arnold laughed at him. + +"Always the same, Isaac," he declared. "Never mind about me. You +look after your niece and take her out, if you can, somewhere. I am +going to give her a drive on Saturday." + +"Are you?" Isaac said calmly. "I doubt it. Drives and carriages are +not for the like of us poor scum." + +His companion nudged him impatiently. Isaac moved away. Arnold +turned after him. + +"You won't deny the right of a man to spend what he earns in the way +he likes best?" he asked. "I've had a rise in my salary, and I am +going to spend a part of it taking Ruth out." + +Isaac laughed scornfully. + +"A rise in your salary!" he muttered. "You poor slave! Did you go +and kiss your master's foot when he gave it to you?" + +"I didn't," Arnold declared. "To tell you the truth, I believe it +would have annoyed him. He hasn't any sense of humor, you see. Good +night, Isaac. If you're writing one of those shattering articles +to-night, remember that Ruth can hear you, and don't keep her awake +too late." + +Arnold walked on. Suddenly his attention was arrested. Isaac was +leaning over the banister of the landing above. + +"Stop!" + +Arnold paused for a moment. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +Isaac came swiftly down. He brushed his cloth hat further back on +his head as though it obscured his vision. With both hands he +gripped Arnold's arm. + +"Tell me," he said, "what do you mean by that?" + +"What I said," Arnold answered; "but, for Heaven's sake, don't visit +it on poor Ruth. She told me that you had some printing-press in +your room to set up your pamphlets, and that the tap, tap at night +had kept her awake. It's no concern of mine. I don't care what you +do or what rubbish you print, but I can't bear to see the little +woman getting frailer and frailer, Isaac." + +"She told you that?" Isaac muttered. + +"She told me that," Arnold assented. "What is there in it?" + +Isaac looked at him for a moment with an intentness which was +indescribable. His black eyes seemed on fire with suspicion, with +searchfulness. At last he let go the arm which he was clutching, and +turned away. + +"All right," he said. "Ruth shouldn't talk, that's all. I don't want +every one to know that I am reduced to printing my little sheet in +my bedroom. Good night!" + +Arnold looked after him in surprise. It was very seldom that Isaac +vouchsafed any form of greeting or farewell. And then the shock +came. Isaac's companion, who had been leaning over the banisters, +waiting for him, had loosened the muffler about his neck and opened +his overcoat. His features were now recognizable--a pale face with +deep-set eyes and prominent forehead, a narrow chin, and a mouth +which seemed set in a perpetual snarl. Arnold stood gazing up at him +in rapt amazement. He had seen that face but once before, yet there +was no possibility of any mistake. It seemed, indeed, as though the +recognition were mutual, for the man above, with an angry cry, +turned suddenly away, buttoning up his overcoat with feverish +fingers. He called out to Isaac--a hurried sentence, in a language +which was strange to Arnold. There was a brief exchange of +breathless words. Arnold moved slowly away, but before he had +reached the street Isaac's hand was upon his shoulder. + +"One moment!" Isaac panted. "My friend would like to know why you +looked at him like that?" + +Arnold did not hesitate. + +"Isaac," he said, gravely, "no doubt I seemed surprised. I have seen +that man before, only a night or two ago." + +"Where? When?" Isaac demanded. + +"I saw him hanging around the house of my employer," Arnold said +firmly, "under very suspicious circumstances. He was inquiring then +for Mr. Rosario. It was the night before Rosario was murdered." + +"What do you mean by that?" Isaac asked, hoarsely. + +"You had better ask yourself what it means," Arnold replied. "For +Ruth's sake, Isaac, don't have anything to do with that man. I don't +know anything about him--I don't want to know anything about him. I +simply beg you, for Ruth's sake, to keep out of trouble." + +Isaac laughed harshly. + +"You talk like a young fool!" he declared, turning on his heel. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +SABATINI'S DOCTRINES + + +The apartments of Count Sabatini were situated in the somewhat +unfamiliar quarter of Queen Anne's Gate. Arnold found his way there +on foot, crossing Parliament Square in a slight drizzling rain, +through which the figures of the passers-by assumed a somewhat +phantasmal appearance. Around him was a glowing arc of lights, and, +dimly visible beyond, shadowy glimpses of the river. He rang the +bell with some hesitation at the house indicated by his +directions--a large gray stone building, old-fashioned, and without +any external signs of habitation. His summons, however, was answered +almost immediately by a man-servant who took his hat and coat. + +"If you will step into the library for a moment, sir," he said, with +a slight foreign accent, "His Excellency will be there." + +Arnold was immensely impressed by the room into which he was shown. +He stood looking around him for several minutes. The whole +atmosphere seemed to indicate a cultivated and luxurious taste, kept +in bounds by a certain not unpleasing masculine severity. The +coloring of the room was dark green, and the walls were everywhere +covered with prints and etchings, and trophies of the chase and war. +A huge easy-chair was drawn up to the fire, and by its side was a +table covered with books and illustrated papers. A black oak writing +desk stood open, and a huge bowl of violets set upon it was guarded +by an ivory statuette of the Venus of Milo. The furniture was +comfortably worn. There was a faint atmosphere of cigarette +smoke,--the whole apartment was impregnated by an intensely liveable +atmosphere. The glowing face of a celebrated Parisian _danseuse_ +laughed at him from over the mantelpiece. Arnold was engaged in +examining it when Sabatini entered. + +"A thousand apologies, my dear Mr. Chetwode," he said softly. "I see +you pass your time pleasantly. You admire the divine Fatime?" + +"The face is beautiful," Arnold admitted. "I am afraid I was a few +minutes early. It began to rain and I walked fast." + +Sabatini smiled. A butler had followed him into the room, bearing on +a tray two wine-glasses full of clear yellow liquid. + +"Vermouth and one tiny cigarette," Sabatini suggested,--"the best +_aperetif_ in the world. Permit me, Mr. Chetwode--to our better +acquaintance!" + +"I never need an _aperetif_," Arnold answered, raising the +wine-glass to his lips, "but I will drink to your toast, with +pleasure." + +Sabatini lit his cigarette, and, leaning slightly against the back +of a chair, stood with folded arms looking at the picture over the +fireplace. + +"Your remark about Fatime suggested reservations," he remarked. "I +wonder why? I have a good many curios in the room, and some rather +wonderful prints, but it was Fatime who held you while you waited. +Yet you are not one of those, I should imagine," he added, blowing +out a cloud of cigarette smoke, "to whom the call of sex is +irresistible." + +Arnold shook his head. + +"No, I don't think so," he admitted simply. "To tell you the truth, +I think that it was the actual presence of the picture here, rather +than its suggestions, which interested me most. Your room is so +masculine," Arnold added, glancing around. "It breathes of war and +sport and the collector. And then, in the middle of it all, this +girl, with her barely veiled limbs and lascivious eyes. There is +something a little brutal about the treatment, don't you think?" + +Sabatini shrugged his shoulders. + +"The lady is too well known," remarked Sabatini, shrugging his +shoulders. "A single touch of the ideal and the greatness of that +picture would be lost. Greve was too great an artist to try for it." + +"Nevertheless," Arnold persisted, "she disturbs the serenity of your +room." + +Sabatini threw away his cigarette and passed his arm through his +companion's. + +"It is as well always to be reminded that life is many-sided," he +murmured. "You will not mind a _tete-a-tete_ dinner?" + +Some curtains of dark green brocaded material had been silently +drawn aside, and they passed into a smaller apartment, of which the +coloring and style of decoration was the same. A round table, before +which stood two high-backed, black oak chairs, and which was lit +with softly-shaded candles, stood in the middle of the room. It was +very simply set out, but the two wine-glasses were richly cut in +quaint fashion, and the bowl of violets was of old yellow Sevres. +Arnold sat opposite his host and realized how completely the man +seemed to fit in with his surroundings. In Mrs. Weatherley's +drawing-room there had been a note of incongruity. Here he seemed so +thoroughly in accord with the air of masculine and cultivated +refinement which dominated the atmosphere. He carried himself with +the ease and dignity to which his race entitled him, but, apart from +that, his manner had qualities which Arnold found particularly +attractive. His manicured nails, his spotless linen, his links and +waistcoat buttons,--cut from some quaint stone,--the slight +affectations of his dress, the unusual manner of brushing back his +hair and arranging his tie, gave him only a note of individuality. +Every word he spoke--and he talked softly but continually during the +service of the meal--confirmed Arnold's first impressions of him. He +was a man, at least, who had lived a man's life without fear or +weakness, and, whatever his standards might be, he would adhere to +them. + +Dinner was noiselessly and perfectly served by the butler who had +first appeared, and a slighter and smaller edition of himself who +brought him the dishes. There was no champagne, but other wines were +served in their due order, the quality of which Arnold appreciated, +although more than one was strange to him. With the removal of the +last course, fruit was placed upon the table, with a decanter of +_Chateau Yquem_. On a small table near was a brass pot of coffee and +a flask of green liqueur. Sabatini pushed the cigarettes towards his +companion. + +"I have a fancy to talk to you seriously," he said, without any +preamble. + +Arnold looked at him in some surprise. + +"I am not a philanthropist," continued Sabatini. "When I move out of +my regular course of life it is usually for my own advantage. I warn +you of that before we start." + +Arnold nodded and lit his cigarette fearlessly. There was no safety +in life, he reflected, thinking for the moment of the warning which +he had received, like the safety of poverty. + +"I am a man of forty-one," Sabatini said. "You, I believe, are +twenty-four. There can, therefore, be no impertinences in the truth +from me to you." + +"There could be none in any case," Arnold assured him. + +Sabatini gazed thoughtfully across the table into his guest's face. + +"I do not know your history or your parentage," he went on. "Such +knowledge is unnecessary. It is obvious that your position at the +present moment is the result of an accident." + +"It is the outcome of actual poverty," Arnold told him softly. + +Sabatini assented. + +"Ah! well," he said, "it is a poverty, then, which you have +accepted. Tell me, then, of your ambition! You are young, and the +world lies before you. You have the gifts which belong to those who +are born. Are you doing what is right to yourself in working at a +degrading employment for a pittance?" + +"I must live," Arnold protested simply. + +"Precisely," replied Sabatini. "We all must live. We all, however, +are too apt to accept the rulings of circumstance. I maintain that +we all have a right to live in the manner to which we are born." + +"And how," asked Arnold, "does one enforce that right?" + +Sabatini leaned over and helped himself to the liqueur. + +"You possess the gift," he remarked, "which I admire most--the gift +of directness. Now I would speak to you of myself. When I was young, +I was penniless, with no inheritance save a grim castle, a barren +island, and a great name. The titular head of my family was a +Cardinal of Rome, my father's own brother. I went to him, and I +demanded the means of support. He answered me with an epigram which +I will not repeat, besides which it is untranslatable. I will only +tell you that he gave me a sum equivalent to a few hundred pounds, +and bade me seek my fortune." + +Arnold was intensely interested. + +"Tell me how you started!" he begged. + +"A few hundred pounds were insufficient," Sabatini answered coolly, +"and my uncle was a coward. I waited my opportunity, and although +three times I was denied an audience, on the fourth I found him +alone. He would have driven me out but I used the means which I have +never known to fail. I left him with a small but sufficient +fortune." + +Arnold looked at him with glowing eyes. + +"You forced him to give it you!" he exclaimed. + +"Without a doubt," Sabatini answered, coolly. "He was wealthy and he +was my uncle. I was strong and he was weak. It was as necessary for +me to live as for him. So I took him by the throat and gave him +thirty seconds to reflect. He decided that the life of a Cardinal +of Rome was far too pleasant to be abandoned precipitately." + +There was a short silence. Sabatini glanced twice at his companion +and smiled. + +"I will read your thoughts, my young friend," he continued. "Your +brain is a little confused. You are wondering whether indeed I have +robbed my elderly relative. Expunge that word and all that it means +to you from your vocabulary, if you can. I took that to which I had +a right by means of the weapons which have been given to +me--strength and opportunity. These are the weapons which I have +used through life." + +"Supposing the Cardinal had refused?" Arnold asked. + +"One need not suppose," Sabatini replied. "It is not worth while. I +should probably have done what the impulse of the moment demanded. +So far, however, I have found most people reasonable." + +"There have been others, then?" Arnold demanded. + +"There have been others," Sabatini agreed calmly; "always people, +however, upon whom I have had a certain claim. Life to different +people means different things. Life to a person of my tastes and +descent meant this--it meant playing a part in the affairs of the +country which gave me my birthright; it meant the carrying forward +of a great enmity which has burned within the family of Sabatini for +the house which now rules my country, for hundreds of years. If I +were a person who sought for excuses, I might say that I have robbed +my relatives for the cause of the patriot. Life to a sawer of wood +means bread. The two states themselves are identical. The man who is +denied bread breaks into riot and gains his ends. I, when I have +been denied what amounts to me as bread, have also helped myself." + +"I am not sure," Arnold protested, frankly, "whether you are not +amusing yourself with me." + +"Then let me put that doubt to rest, once and for all," Sabatini +replied. "It does not amuse me to trifle with the truth." + +"Why do you make me your confidant?" Arnold asked. + +"Because it is my intention to make a convert of you," Sabatini said +calmly. + +Arnold shook his head. + +"I am afraid that that is quite hopeless," he answered. "I have not +the excuse of a country which needs my help, although I have more +than one relative," he added, with a smile, "whom I should not mind +taking by the throat." + +"One needs no excuse," Sabatini murmured. + +"When one--" + +He hesitated. + +"I have no scruples," Sabatini interrupted, "in using the word which +seems to trouble you. Perhaps I am a robber. What, however, you do +not appreciate is that nine-tenths of the people in the world are in +the same position." + +"I cannot admit that either," Arnold protested. + +"It is, then, because you have not considered the matter," Sabatini +declared. "You live in a very small corner of the world and you have +accepted a moral code as ridiculously out of date as Calvinism in +religion. The whole of life is a system of robbery. The strong help +themselves, the weak go down. Did you call your splendid seamen of +Queen Elizabeth's time robbers, because they nailed the English +flag to their mast and swept the seas for plunder? 'We are strong,' +they cried to the country they robbed, 'and you are weak. Stand and +deliver!' I spare you a hundred instances. Take your commercial life +of to-day. The capitalist stretches out his hand and swallows up the +weaker man. He does it ten or fifty times a day and there is no one +to stop him. It is the strong taking from the weak. You cannot walk +from here to Charing Cross without seeing it. Some forms of plunder +come under the law, some do not. Your idea as to which are right and +which are wrong is simply the law's idea. The man who is strong +enough is the law." + +"Your doctrines are far-reaching," Arnold said. "What about the man +who sweeps the crossings, the beggars who ask for alms?" + +"They sweep crossings and they beg for alms," Sabatini replied, +"because they are weak or foolish and because I am strong. You work +for twenty-eight shillings a week because you are foolish. You can +do it if you like, if it affords you any satisfaction to make a +martyr of yourself for the sake of bolstering up a conventional +system. Either that or you have not the spirit for adventure." + +"The spirit for adventure," Arnold repeated quietly. "Well, there +have been times when I thought I had that, but it certainly never +occurred to me to go out and rob." + +"That," Sabatini declared, "is because you are an Englishman and +extraordinarily susceptible to conventions. Now I speak with many +experiences behind me. I had ancestors who enriched themselves with +fire and sword. I would much prefer to do the same thing. As a +matter of fact, when the conditions admit of it, I do. I have fought +in whatever war has raged since the days when I was eighteen. If +another war should break out to-morrow, I should weigh the causes, +choose the side I preferred, and fight for it. But when there is no +war, I must yet live. I cannot drill troops all day, or sit in the +cafes. I must use my courage and my brains in whatever way seems +most beneficial to the cause which lies nearest to my heart." + +"I cannot imagine," Arnold said frankly, "what that cause is." + +"Some day, and before long," Sabatini replied, "you may know. At any +rate, we have talked enough of this for the present. Think over what +I have said. If at any time I should have an enterprise to propose +to you, you will at least recognize my point of view." + +He touched the bell. A servant entered almost at once, carrying his +overcoat and silk hat. + +"I have taken a box at a music-hall," he announced. "I believe that +my sister may join us there. I hope it will amuse you?" + +Arnold rose eagerly to his feet. His eyes were bright already with +anticipation. + +"And as for our conversation," Sabatini continued, as they stepped +into his little electric brougham, "dismiss it, for the present, +from your memory. Try and look out upon life with larger eyes, from +a broader point of view. Forget the laws that have been made by +other men. Try and frame for yourself a more rational code of +living. And judge not with the ready-made judgment of laws, but from +your own consciousness of right and wrong. You are at an +impressionable age, and the effort should help to make a man of +you." + +They glided softly along the crowded streets and up into Leicester +Square, where the blaze of lights seemed somehow comforting after +the cold darkness of the night. They stopped outside the _Empire_ +and Arnold followed his guide with beating heart as they were shown +to their box. The door was thrown open. Fenella was there alone. She +was sitting a little way back in the box so as to escape observation +from the house. At the sound of their entrance she turned eagerly +toward them. Arnold, who was in advance, stopped short in the act of +greeting her. She was looking past him at her brother. She was +absolutely colorless, her lips were parted, her eyes distended as +though with terror. She had all the appearance of a woman who has +looked upon some terrible thing. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE RED SIGNET RING + + +The few minutes which followed inspired Arnold with an admiration +for his companion which he never wholly lost. Sabatini recognized in +a moment his sister's state, but he did no more than shrug his +shoulders. + +"My dear Fenella!" he said, in a tone of gentle reproof. + +"You haven't heard?" she gasped. + +Sabatini drew out a chair and seated himself. He glanced around at +the house and then began slowly to unbutton his white kid gloves. + +"I did not buy an evening paper," he remarked. "Your face tells me +the news, of course. I gather that Starling has been arrested." + +"He was arrested at five o'clock!" she exclaimed. "He will be +charged before the magistrates to-morrow." + +"Then to-morrow," Sabatini continued calmly, "will be quite time +enough for you to begin to worry." + +She looked at him for a moment steadfastly. She had ceased to +tremble now and her own appearance was becoming more natural. + +"If one had but a man's nerve!" she murmured. "Dear Andrea, you make +me very much ashamed. Yet this is serious--surely it is very +serious?" + +Arnold had withdrawn as far as possible out of hearing, but +Sabatini beckoned him forward. + +"You are missing the ballet," he said. "You must take the front +chair there. You, too, will be interested in this news which my +sister has been telling me. Our friend Starling has been arrested, +after all. I was afraid he was giving himself away." + +"For the murder of Mr. Rosario?" Arnold asked. + +"Precisely," Sabatini replied. "A very unfortunate circumstance. Let +us hope that he will be able to prove his innocence." + +"I don't see how he could have done it," Arnold said slowly. "We saw +him only about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour later coming up +from the restaurant on the other side of the hotel." + +"Oh! he will come very near proving an alibi, without a doubt," +Sabatini declared. "He is quite clever when it comes to the point. I +wonder what sort of evidence they have against him." + +"Is there any reason," Arnold asked, "why he should kill Mr. +Rosario?" + +Sabatini studied his program earnestly. + +"Well," he admitted, "that is rather a difficult question to answer. +Mr. Rosario was a very obstinate man, and he was certainly +persisting in a course of action against which I and many others had +warned him, a course of action which was certain to make him +exceedingly unpopular with a good many of us. I am not sure, +however, whether the facts were sufficiently well known--" + +Fenella interrupted. She rose hurriedly to her feet. + +"I am afraid, after all, that you will have to excuse me," she +declared, moving to a seat at the back of the box. "I do not think +that I can stay here." + +Sabatini nodded gravely. + +"Perhaps you are right," he said. "For my own part, I, too, wish I +had more faith in Starling. As a matter of fact, I have none. When +they caught Crampton, one could sleep in one's bed; one knew. But +this man Starling is a nervous wreck. Who knows what story he may +tell--consciously or unconsciously--in his desperate attempts to +clear himself? You see," he continued, looking at Arnold, "there are +a great many of us to whom Mr. Rosario was personally, just at this +moment, obnoxious." + +Fenella swayed in her chair. + +"I am going home," she murmured. + +"As you will," Sabatini agreed. "Perhaps Mr. Chetwode will be so +kind as to take you back? I have asked a friend to call here this +evening." + +She turned to Arnold. + +"Do!" she pleaded. "I am fit for nothing else. You will come with +me?" + +Arnold was already standing with his coat upon his arm. + +"Of course," he replied. + +Her brother helped her on with her cloak. + +"For myself," he declared, "I shall remain. I should not like to +miss my friend, if he comes, and they tell me that the second ballet +is excellent." + + [Illustration: "For myself," he declared, "I remain." _Page 139_.] + +She took his hands. + +"You have courage, dear one," she murmured. + +He smiled. + +"It is not courage," he replied, "it is philosophy. If to-morrow +were to be the end, would you not enjoy to-day? The true +reasonableness of life is to live as though every day might be one's +last. We shall meet again very soon, Mr. Chetwode." + +Arnold held out his hands. The whole affair was intensely +mysterious, and there were many things which he did not understand +in the least, but he knew that he was in the presence of a brave +man. + +"Good night, Count Sabatini," he said. "Thank you very much for our +dinner. I am afraid I am an unconverted Philistine, and doomed to +the narrow ways, but, nevertheless, I have enjoyed my evening very +much." + +Sabatini smiled charmingly. + +"You are very British," he declared, "but never mind. Even a Briton +has been known to see the truth by gazing long enough. Take care of +my little sister, and au revoir!" + +Her fingers clutched his arm as they passed along the promenade and +down the corridor into the street. The car was waiting, and in a +moment or two they were on their way to Hampstead. She was beginning +to look a little more natural, but she still clung to him. Arnold +felt his head dizzy as though with strong wine. + +"Fenella," he said, using her name boldly, "your brother has been +talking to me to-night. All that he said I can understand, from his +point of view, but what may be well for him is not well for others +who are weaker. If you have been foolish, if the love of adventure +has led you into any folly, think now and ask yourself whether it is +worth while. Give it up before it is too late." + +"It is because I have so little courage," she murmured, looking at +him with swimming eyes, "and one must do something. I must live or +the tugging of the chain is there all the time." + +"There are many things in life which are worth while," he declared. +"You are young and rich, and you have a husband who would do +anything in the world for you. It isn't worth while to get mixed up +in these dangerous schemes." + +"What do you know of them?" she asked, curiously. + +"Not much," he admitted. "Your brother was talking to-night a little +recklessly. One gathered--" + +"Andrea sometimes talks wildly because it amuses him to deceive +people, to make them think that he is worse than he really is," she +interrupted. "He loves danger, but it is because he is a brave man." + +"I am sure of it," Arnold replied, "but it does not follow that he +is a wise one." + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"Tell me one of those many ways of living which are worth while!" +she whispered. "Point out one of them only. Remember that I, too, +have the spirit of restlessness in my veins. I must have excitement +at any cost." + +He sighed. She was, indeed, in a strange place. + +"It seems so hopeless," he said, "to try and interest you in the +ordinary things of life." + +"No one could do it," she admitted. "I was not made for domesticity. +Sometimes I think that I was not made to be wife to any man. I am a +gambler at heart. I love the fierce draughts of life. Without them I +should die." + +"Yet you married Samuel Weatherley!" Arnold exclaimed. + +She laughed bitterly. + +"Yes, I was in a prison house," she answered, "and I should have +welcomed any jailer who had come to set me free. I married him, and +sometimes I try to do my duty. Then the other longings come, and +Hampstead and my house, and my husband and my parties and my silly +friends, seem like part of a dream. Mr. Chetwode--Arnold!" + +"Fenella!" + +"We were to be friends, we were to help one another. To-night I am +afraid and I think that I am a little remorseful. It was my doing +that you dined to-night with Andrea. I have wanted to bring you, +too, into the life that my brother lives, into the life where I also +make sometimes excursions. It is not a wicked life, but I do not +know that it is a wise one. I was foolish. It was wrong of me to +disturb you. After all, you are good and solid and British, you were +meant for the other ways. Forget everything. It is less than a week +since you came first to dine with us. Blot out those few days. Can +you?" + +"Not while I live," Arnold replied. "You forget that it was during +those few days that I met you." + +"But you are foolish," she declared, laying her hand upon his and +smiling into his face, so that the madness came back and burned in +his blood. "There is no need for you to be a gambler, there is no +need for you to stake everything upon these single coups. You +haven't felt the call. Don't listen for it." + +"Fenella," he whispered hoarsely, "what was I doing when Samuel +Weatherley was shipwrecked on your island!" + +She laughed. + +"Oh, you foolish boy!" she cried. "What difference would it have +made?" + +"You can't tell," he answered. "Has no one ever moved you, Fenella? +Have you never known what it is to care for any one?" + +"Never," she replied. "I only hope that I never shall." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I am a gambler," she declared; "because to me it would mean +risking everything. And I have seen no man in the whole world strong +enough and big enough for that. You are my very dear friend, Arnold, +and you are feeling very sentimental, and your head is turned just a +little, but after all you are only a boy. The taste of life is not +yet between your teeth." + +He leaned closer towards her. She put his arm gently away, shaking +her head all the time. + +"Do not think that I am a prude," she said. "You can kiss me if you +like, and yet I would very much rather that you did not. I do not +know why. I like you well enough, and certainly it is not from any +sense of right or wrong. I am like Andrea in that way. I make my own +laws. To-night I do not wish you to kiss me." + +She was looking up at him, her eyes filled with a curious light, her +lips slightly parted. She was so close that the perfume in which her +clothes had lain, faint though it was, almost maddened him. + +"I don't think that you have a heart at all!" he exclaimed, +hoarsely. + +"It is the old selfish cry, that," she answered. "Please do not be +foolish, Arnold. Do not be like those silly boys who only plague +one. With you and me, things are more serious." + +The car came to a standstill before the portals of Pelham Lodge. +Arnold held her fingers for a moment or two after he had rung the +bell. Then he turned away. She called him back. + +"Come in with me for a moment," she murmured. "To-night I am afraid. +Mr. Weatherley will be in bed. Come in and sit with me for a little +time until my courage returns." + +He followed her into the house. There seemed to Arnold to be a +curious silence everywhere. She looked in at several rooms and +nodded. + +"Mr. Weatherley has gone to bed," she announced. "Come into my +sitting-room. We will stay there for five minutes, at least." + +She led the way across the hall towards the little room into which +she had taken Arnold on his first visit. She tried the door and came +to a sudden standstill, shook the handle, and looked up at Arnold in +amazement. + +"It seems as though it were locked," she remarked. "It's my own +sitting-room. No one else is allowed to enter it. Groves!" + +She turned round. The butler had hastened to her side. + +"What is the meaning of this?" she asked. "My sitting-room is locked +on the inside." + +The man tried the handle incredulously. He, too, was dumbfounded. + +"Where is your master?" Mrs. Weatherley asked. + +"He retired an hour ago, madam," the man replied. "It is most +extraordinary, this." + +She began to shiver. Groves leaned down and tried to peer through +the keyhole. He rose to his feet hastily. + +"The lights are burning in the room, madam," he exclaimed, "and the +key is not in the door on the other side! It looks very much as +though burglars were at work there. If you will allow me, I will go +round to the window outside. There is no one else up." + +"I will go with you," Arnold said. + +"If you please, sir," the man replied. + +They hurried out of the front door and around to the side of the +house. The lights were certainly burning in the room and the blind +was half drawn up. Arnold reached the window-sill with a spring and +peered in. + +"I can see nothing," he said to Groves. "There doesn't seem to be +any one in the room." + +"Can you get in, sir?" the man asked from below. "The sash seems to +be unfastened." + +Arnold tried it and found it yielded to his touch. He pushed it up +and vaulted lightly into the room. Then he saw that a table was +overturned and a key was lying on the floor. He picked it up and +fitted it into the door. Fenella was waiting outside. + +"I can see nothing here," he announced, "but a table has been +upset." + +She pointed to the sofa and gripped his arm. + +"Look!" she cried. "What is that?" + +Arnold felt a thrill of horror, and for a moment the room swam +before his eyes. Then he saw clearly again. From underneath the +upholstery of the sofa, a man's hand was visible stretching into the +room almost as far as his elbow. They both stared, Arnold stupefied +with horror. On the little finger of the hand was a ring with a +blood-red seal! + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +AN ADVENTURE + + +Arnold, for a moment or two, felt himself incapable of speech or +movement. Fenella was hanging, a dead weight, upon his arm. The eyes +of both of them were riveted upon the hand which stretched into the +room. + +"There is some one under the couch!" Fenella faltered at last. + +He took a step forward. + +"Wait," he begged, "--or perhaps you had better go away. I will see +who it is." + +He moved toward the couch. She strove to hold him back. + +"Arnold," she cried, hoarsely, "this is no business of yours! You +had better leave me! Groves is here, and the servants. Slip away +now, while you have the chance." + +He looked at her in amazement. + +"Why, Fenella," he exclaimed, "how can you suggest such a thing! +Besides," he added, "Groves saw me climb in at the window. He was +with me outside." + +She wrung her hands. + +"I forgot!" she moaned. "Don't move the sofa while I am looking!" + +There was a knock at the door. They both turned round. It was +Groves' voice speaking. He had returned to the house and was waiting +outside. + +"Can I come in, madam?" + +Fenella moved slowly towards the door and admitted him. Then Arnold, +setting his teeth, rolled back the couch. A man was lying there, +stretched at full length. His face was colorless except for a great +blue bruise near his temple. Arnold stared at him for a moment with +horrified eyes. + +"My God!" he muttered. + +There was a brief silence. Fenella looked across at Arnold. + +"You know him!" + +Arnold's first attempt at speech failed. When the words came they +sounded choked. There was a horrible dry feeling in his throat. + +"It is the man who looked in at the window that night," he +whispered. "I saw him--only a few hours ago. It is the same man." + +Fenella came slowly to his side. She leaned over his shoulder. + +"Is he dead?" she asked. + +Her tone was cold and unnatural. Her paroxysm of fear seemed to have +passed. + +"I don't know," Arnold answered. "Let Groves telephone for a +doctor." + +The man half turned away, yet hesitated. Fenella fell on her knees +and bent over the prostrate body. + +"He is not dead," she declared. "Groves, tell me exactly who is in +the house?" + +"There is no one here at all, madam," the man answered, "except the +servants, and they are all in the other wing. We have had no +callers whatever this evening." + +"And Mr. Weatherley?" + +"Mr. Weatherley arrived home about seven o'clock," Groves replied, +"dined early, and went to bed immediately afterwards. He complained +of a headache and looked very unwell." + +Fenella rose slowly to her feet. She looked from Arnold to the +prostrate figure upon the carpet. + +"Who has done this?" she asked, pointing downwards. + +"It may have been an accident," Arnold suggested. + +"An accident!" she repeated. "What was he doing in my sitting-room? +Besides, he could not have crept underneath the couch of his own +accord." + +"Do you know who it is?" Arnold asked. + +"Why should I know?" she demanded. + +He hesitated. + +"You remember the night of my first visit here--the face at the +window?" + +She nodded. He pointed downward to the outstretched hand. + +"That is the man," he declared. "He is wearing the same ring--the +red signet ring. I saw it upon his hand the night you and I were in +this room alone together, and he was watching the house. I saw it +again through the window of the swing-doors on the hand of the man +who killed Rosario. What does it mean, Fenella?" + +"I do not know," she faltered. + +"You must have some idea," he persisted, "as to who he is. You +seemed to expect his coming that night. You would not let me give +an alarm or send for the police. It was the same man who killed +Rosario." + +She shook her head. + +"I do not believe that," she declared. + +"If it were not the same man," Arnold continued, "it was at least +some one who was wearing the same ring. Tell me the truth, Fenella!" + +She turned her head. Groves had come once more within hearing. + +"I know nothing," she replied, hardly. "Groves, go and knock at the +door of your master's room," she added. "Ask him to put on his +dressing-gown and come down at once. Mr. Chetwode, come with me into +the library while I telephone for the doctor." + +Arnold hesitated for a moment. + +"Don't you think that I had better stay by him?" he suggested. + +She shook her head. + +"I will not be left alone," she replied. "I told you on the way here +that I was afraid. All the evening I knew that something would +happen." + +They made their way to the front of the house and into the library. +She turned up the electric lights and fetched a telephone book. +Arnold rang up the number she showed him. + +"What about the police station?" he asked, turning towards her with +the receiver still in his hand. "Oughtn't I to send for some one?" + +"Not yet," she replied. "We are not supposed to know. The man may +have come upon some business. Let us wait and see what the doctor +says." + +He laid down the receiver. She had thrown herself into an +easy-chair and with a little impulsive gesture she held out one hand +towards him. + +"Poor Arnold!" she murmured. "I am afraid that this is all very +bewildering to you, and your life was so peaceful until a week ago." + +He held her fingers tightly. Notwithstanding the shadows under her +eyes, and the gleam of terror which still lingered there, she was +beautiful. + +"I don't care about that," he answered, fervently. "I don't care +about anything except that I should like to understand a little more +clearly what it all means. I hate mysteries. I don't see why you +can't tell me. I am your friend. If it is necessary for me to say +nothing, I shall say nothing, but I hate the thoughts that come to +me sometimes. Tell me, why should that man have been haunting your +house the other evening? What did he want? And to-night--what made +him break into your room?" + +She sighed. + +"If it were only so simple as all that," she answered, "oh! I would +tell you so willingly. But it is not. There is so much which I do +not understand myself." + +He leaned a little closer towards her. The silence of the room and +the house was unbroken. + +"The man will die!" he said. "Who do you believe could have struck +him that blow in your room?" + +"I do not know," she answered; "indeed I do not." + +"You heard what Groves said," Arnold continued. "There is no one in +the house except the servants." + +"That man was here," she answered. "Why not others? Listen." + +There was the sound of shuffling footsteps in the hall. She held up +her finger cautiously. + +"Be very careful before Mr. Weatherley," she begged. "It is an +ordinary burglary, this--no more." + +The door was opened. Mr. Weatherley, in hasty and most unbecoming +deshabille, bustled in. His scanty gray hair was sticking out in +patches all over his head. He seemed, as yet, scarcely awake. With +one hand he clutched at the dressing-gown, the girdle of which was +trailing behind him. + +"What is the meaning of this, Fenella?" he demanded. "Why am I +fetched from my room in this manner? You, Chetwode? What are you +doing here?" + +"I have brought Mrs. Weatherley home, sir," Arnold answered. "We +noticed a light in her room and we made a discovery there. It looks +as though there has been an attempted burglary within the last hour +or so." + +"Which room?" Mr. Weatherley asked. "Which room? Is anything +missing?" + +"Nothing, fortunately," Arnold replied. "The man, by some means or +other, seems to have been hurt." + +"Where is he?" Mr. Weatherley demanded. + +"In my boudoir," Fenella replied. "We will all go. I have telephoned +for a doctor." + +"A doctor? What for?" Mr. Weatherley inquired. "Who needs a doctor?" + +"The burglar, if he is a burglar," she explained, gently. "Don't you +understand that all we found was a man, lying in the centre of the +room? He has had a fall of some sort." + +"God bless my soul!" Mr. Weatherley said. "Well, come along, let's +have a look at him." + +They trooped down the passage. Groves, waiting outside for them, +opened the door. Mr. Weatherley, who was first, looked all around +the apartment. + +"Where is this man?" he demanded. "Where is he?" + + [Illustration: "Where is this man?" he demanded. _Page 152_.] + +Arnold, who followed, was stricken speechless. Fenella gave a little +cry. The couch had been wheeled back to its place. The body of the +man had disappeared! + +"Where is the burglar?" Mr. Weatherley repeated, irritably. "Was +there ever any one here? Who in the name of mischief left that +window open?" + +The window through which Arnold had entered the room was now wide +open. They hurried towards it. Outside, all was darkness. There was +no sound of footsteps, no sign of any person about. Mr. Weatherley +was distinctly annoyed. + +"I should have thought you would have had more sense, Chetwode," he +said, testily. "You found a burglar here, and, instead of securing +him properly, you send up to me and go ringing up for doctors, and +in the meantime the man calmly slips off through the window." + +Arnold made no reply. Mr. Weatherley's words seemed to come from a +long way off. He was looking at Fenella. + +"The man was dead!" he muttered. + +She, too, was white, but she shook her head. + +"We thought so," she answered. "We were wrong." + +Mr. Weatherley led the way to the front door. + +"As the dead man seems to have cleared out," he said, "without +taking very much with him, I suggest that we go to bed. Groves had +better ring up the doctor and stop him, if he can; if not, he must +explain that he was sent for in error. Good night, Chetwode!" he +added, pointedly. + +Arnold scarcely remembered his farewells. He passed out into the +street and stood for several moments upon the pavement. He looked +back at the house. + +"The man was dead or dying!" he muttered to himself. "What does it +all mean?" + +He walked slowly away. There was a policeman on the other side of +the road, taxicabs and carriages coming and going. He passed the +gate of Pelham Lodge and looked back toward the window of the +sitting-room. Within five minutes the man must have left that room +by the window. That he could have left it unaided, even if alive, +was impossible. Yet there was not anything in the avenue, or +thereabouts, to denote that anything unusual had occurred. He was on +the point of turning away when a sudden thought struck him. He +re-entered the gate softly and walked up the drive. Arrived at +within a few feet of the window, he paused and turned to the right. +A narrow path led him into a shrubbery. A few more yards and he +reached a wire fence. Stepping across it, he found himself in the +next garden. Here he paused for a moment and listened. The house +before which he stood was smaller than Pelham Lodge, and woefully +out of repair. The grass on the lawn was long and dank--even the +board containing the notice "To Let" had fallen flat, and lay among +it as in a jungle. The paths were choked with weeds, the windows +were black and curtainless. He made his way to the back of the house +and suddenly stopped short. This was a night of adventures, indeed! +On a level with the ground, the windows of one of the back rooms +were boarded up. Through the chinks he could distinctly see gleams +of light. Standing there, holding his breath, he could even hear +the murmur of voices. There were men there--several of them, to +judge by the sound. He drew nearer and nearer until he found a chink +through which he could see. Then, for the first time, he hesitated. +It was not his affair, this. There were mysteries connected with +Pelham Lodge and its occupants which were surely no concern of his. +Why interfere? Danger might come of it--danger and other troubles. +Fenella would have told him if she had wished him to know. She +herself must have some idea as to the reason of this attempt upon +her house. Why not slip away quietly and forget it? It was at least +the most prudent course. Then, as he hesitated, the memory of +Sabatini's words, so recently spoken, came into his mind. Almost he +could see him leaning back in his chair with the faint smile upon +his lips. "You have not the spirit for adventure!" Then Arnold +hesitated no longer. Choosing every footstep carefully, he crept to +the window until he could press his face close to the chink through +which the light gleamed out into the garden. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE END OF AN EVENING + + +To see into the room at all, Arnold had been compelled to step down +from the grass on to a narrow, tiled path about half a yard wide, +which led to the back door. Standing on this and peering through the +chink in the boards, he gained at last a view of the interior of the +house. From the first, he had entered upon this search with a +certain presentiment. He looked into the room and shivered. It was +apparently the kitchen, and was unfurnished save for half a dozen +rickety chairs, and a deal table in the middle of the room. Upon +this was stretched the body of a motionless man. There were three +others in the room. One, who appeared to have some knowledge of +medicine, had taken off his coat and was listening with his ear +against the senseless man's heart. A brandy bottle stood upon the +table. They had evidently been doing what they could to restore him +to consciousness. Terrible though the sight was, Arnold found +something else in that little room to kindle his emotion. Two of the +men were unknown to him--dark-complexioned, ordinary middle-class +people; but the third he recognized with a start. It was Isaac who +stood there, a little aloof, waiting somberly for what his +companion's verdict might be. + +Apparently, after a time, they gave up all hope of the still +motionless man. They talked together, glancing now and then towards +his body. The window was open at the top and Arnold could sometimes +hear a word. With great difficulty, he gathered that they were +proposing to remove him, and that they were taking the back way. +Presently he saw them lift the body down and wrap it in an overcoat. +Then Arnold stole away across the lawn toward a gate in the wall. It +was locked, but it was easy for him to climb over. He had barely +done so when he saw the three men come out of the back of the house, +carrying their wounded comrade. He waited till he was sure they were +coming, and then looked around for a hiding-place. He was now in a +sort of lane, ending in a _cul de sac_ at the back of Mr. +Weatherley's house. There were gardens on one side, parallel with +the one through which he had just passed, and opposite were stables, +motor sheds and tool houses. He slipped a little way down the lane +and concealed himself behind a load of wood. About forty yards away +was a street, for which he imagined that they would probably make. +He held his breath and waited. + +In a few minutes he saw the door in the wall open. One of the men +slipped out and looked up and down. He apparently signaled that the +coast was clear, and soon the others followed him. They came down +the lane, walking very slowly--a weird and uncanny little +procession. Arnold caught a glimpse of them as they passed. The two +larger men were supporting their fallen companion between them, each +with an arm under his armpits, so that the fact that he was really +being carried was barely noticeable. Isaac came behind, his hands +thrust deep into his overcoat pocket, a cloth cap drawn over his +features. So they went on to the end of the lane. As soon as they +had reached it, Arnold followed them swiftly. When he gained the +street, they were about twenty yards to the right, looking around +them. It was a fairly populous neighborhood, with a row of villas on +the other side of the road, and a few shops lower down. They stood +there, having carefully chosen a place remote from the gas lamps, +until at last a taxicab came crawling by. They hailed it, and Isaac +engaged the driver's attention apparently with some complicated +direction, while the others lifted their burden into the taxicab. +One man got in with him. Isaac and the other, with ordinary +good-nights, strode away. The taxicab turned around and headed +westward. Arnold, with a long breath, watched them all disappear. +Then he, too, turned homewards. + +It was almost midnight when Arnold was shown once more into the +presence of Sabatini. Sabatini, in a black velvet smoking jacket, +was lying upon a sofa in his library, with a recently published +edition _de luxe_ of Alfred de Musset's poems upon his knee. He +looked up with some surprise at Arnold's entrance. + +"Why, it is my strenuous young friend again!" he declared. "Have you +brought me a message from Fenella?" + +Arnold shook his head. + +"She does not know that I have come." + +"You have brought me some news on your own account, then?" + +"I have brought you some news," Arnold admitted. + +Sabatini looked at him critically. + +"You look terrified," he remarked. "What have you been doing? Help +yourself to a drink. You'll find everything on the sideboard there." + +Arnold laid down his hat and mixed himself a whiskey and soda. He +drank it off before he spoke. + +"Count Sabatini," he said, turning round, "I suppose you are used to +all this excitement. A man's life or death is little to you. I have +never seen a dead man before to-night. It has upset me." + +"Naturally, naturally," Sabatini said, tolerantly. "I remember the +first man I killed--it was in a fair fight, too, but it sickened me. +But what have you been doing, my young friend, to see dead men? Have +you, too, been joining the army of plunderers?" + +Arnold shook his head. + +"I took your sister home," he announced. "We found a light in her +sitting-room and the door locked. I got in through the window." + +"This is most interesting," Sabatini declared, carefully marking the +place in his book and laying it aside. "What did you find there?" + +"A dead man," Arnold answered, "a murdered man!" + +"You are joking!" Sabatini protested. + +"He had been struck on the forehead," Arnold continued, "and dragged +half under the couch. Only his arm was visible at first. We had to +move the couch to discover him." + +"Do you know who he was?" Sabatini asked. + +"No one had any idea," Arnold answered. "I think that I was the only +one who had ever seen him before. The night I dined at Mr. +Weatherley's for the first time and met you, I was with Mrs. +Weatherley in her room, and I saw that man steal up to the window as +though he were going to break in." + +"This is most interesting," Sabatini declared. "Evidently a +dangerous customer. But you say that you found him dead. Who killed +him?" + +"There was no one there who could say," Arnold declared. "There were +no servants in that part of the house, there had been no visitors, +and Mr. Weatherley had been in bed since half-past nine. We +telephoned for a doctor, and we fetched Mr. Weatherley out of bed. +Then a strange thing happened. We took Mr. Weatherley to the room, +which we had left for less than five minutes, and there was no one +there. The man had been carried away." + +"Really," Sabatini protested, "your story gets more interesting +every moment. Don't tell me that this is the end!" + +"It is not," Arnold replied. "It seemed then as though there were +nothing more to be done. Evidently he had either been only stunned +and had got up and left the room by the window, or he had +accomplices who had fetched him away. Mr. Weatherley was very much +annoyed with us and we had to make excuses to the doctor. Then I +left." + +"Well?" Sabatini said. "You left. You didn't come straight here?" + +Arnold shook his head. + +"When I got into the road, I could see that there was a policeman on +duty on the other side of the way, and quite a number of people +moving backwards and forwards all the time. It seemed impossible +that they could have brought him out there if he had been fetched +away. Something made me remember what I had noticed on the evening I +had dined there--that there was a small empty house next door. I +walked back up the drive of Pelham Lodge, turned into the +shrubbery, and there I found that there was an easy way into the +next garden. I made my way to the back of the house. I saw lights in +the kitchen. There were three of his companions there, and the dead +man. They were trying to see if they could revive him. I looked +through a chink in the boarded window and I saw everything." + +"Trying to revive him," Sabatini remarked. "Evidently there was some +doubt as to his being dead, then." + +"I think they had come to the conclusion that he was dead," Arnold +replied; "for after a time they put on his overcoat and dragged him +out by the back entrance, down some mews, into another street. I +followed them at a distance. They hailed a taxi. One man got in with +him and drove away, the others disappeared. I came here." + +Sabatini reached out his hand for a cigarette. + +"I have seldom," he declared, "listened to a more interesting +episode. You didn't happen to hear the direction given to the driver +of the taxicab?" + +"I did not." + +"You have no idea, I suppose," Sabatini asked, with a sudden keen +glance, "as to the identity of the man whom you believe to be dead?" + +"None whatever," Arnold replied, "except that it was the same man +who was watching the house on the night when I dined there. He told +me then that he wanted Rosario. There was something evil in his face +when he mentioned the name. I saw his hand grasping the window-sill. +He was wearing a ring--a signet ring with a blood-red stone." + +"This is most engrossing," Sabatini murmured. "A signet ring with a +blood-red stone! Wasn't there a ring answering to that description +upon the finger of the man who stabbed Rosario?" + +"There was," Arnold answered. + +Sabatini knocked the ash from his cigarette. + +"The coincidence," he remarked, "if it is a coincidence, is a little +extraordinary. By the bye, though, you have as yet given me no +explanation as to your visit here. Why do you connect me with this +adventure of yours?" + +"I do not connect you with it at all," Arnold answered; "yet, for +some reason or other, I am sure that your sister knew more about +this man and his presence in her sitting-room than she cared to +confess. When I left there, everything was in confusion. I have come +to tell you the final result, so far as I know it. You will tell her +what you choose. What she knows, I suppose you know. I don't ask for +your confidence. I have had enough of these horrors. Tooley Street +is bad enough, but I think I would rather sit in my office and add +up figures all day long, than go through another such night." + +Sabatini smiled. + +"You are young, as yet," he said. "Life and death seem such terrible +things to you, such tragedies, such enormous happenings. In youth, +one loses one's sense of proportion. Life seems so vital, the +universe so empty, without one's own personality. Take a pocketful +of cigarettes, my dear Mr. Chetwode, and make your way homeward. We +shall meet again in a day or two, I dare say, and by that time your +little nightmare will not seem so terrible." + +"You will let your sister know?" Arnold begged. + +"She shall know all that you have told me," Sabatini promised. "I +do not say that it will interest her--it may or it may not. In any +case, I thank you for coming." + +Arnold was dismissed with a pleasant nod, and passed out into the +streets, now emptying fast. He walked slowly back to his rooms. +Already the sense of unwonted excitement was passing. Sabatini's +strong, calm personality was like a wonderful antidote. After all, +it was not his affair. It was possible, after all, that the man was +an ordinary burglar. And yet, if so, what was Isaac doing with him? +He glanced in front of him to where the lights of the two great +hotels flared up to the sky. Somewhere just short of them, before +the window of her room, Ruth would be sitting watching. He quickened +his steps. Perhaps he should find her before he went to bed. Perhaps +he might even see Isaac come in! + +Big Ben was striking the half-hour past midnight as Arnold stood on +the top landing of the house at the corner of Adam Street, and +listened. To the right was his own bare apartment; on the left, the +rooms where Isaac and Ruth lived together. He struck a match and +looked into his own apartment. There was a note twisted up for him +on his table, scribbled in pencil on a half sheet of paper. He +opened it and read: + + If you are not too late, will you knock at the door and + wish me good night? Isaac will be late. Perhaps he will + not be home at all. + +He stepped back and knocked softly at the opposite door. In a moment +or two he heard the sound of her stick. She opened the door and came +out. Her eyes shone through the darkness at him but her face was +white and strained. He shook his head. + +"Ruth," he said, "you heard the time? And you promised to go to bed +at ten o'clock!" + +She smiled. He passed his arm around her, holding her up. + +"To-night I was afraid," she whispered. "I do not know what it was +but there seemed to be strange voices about everywhere. I was afraid +for Isaac and afraid for you." + +"My dear girl," he laughed, "what was there to fear for me? I had a +very good dinner with a very charming man. Afterwards, we went to a +music-hall for a short time, I went back to his rooms, and here I +am, just in time to wish you good night. What could the voices have +to tell you about that?" + +She shook her head. + +"Sometimes," she said, "there is danger in the simplest things one +does. I don't understand what it is," she went on, a little wearily, +"but I feel that I am losing you, you are slipping away, and day by +day Isaac gets more mysterious, and when he comes home sometimes his +face is like the face of a wolf. There is a new desire born in him, +and I am afraid. I think that if I am left alone here many more +nights like this, I shall go mad. I tried to undress, Arnie, but I +couldn't. I threw myself down on the bed and I had to bite my +handkerchief. I have been trembling. Oh, if you could hear those +voices! If you could understand the fears that are nameless, how +terrible they are!" + +She was shaking all over. He passed his other arm around her and +lifted her up. + +"Come and sit with me in my room for a little time," he said. "I +will carry you back presently." + +She kissed him on the forehead. + +"Dear Arnold!" she whispered. "For a few minutes, then--not too +long. To-night I am afraid. Always I feel that something will +happen. Tell me this?" + +"What is it, dear?" + +"Why should Isaac press me so hard to tell him where you were going +to-night? You passed him on the stairs, didn't you?" + +Arnold nodded. + +"He was with another man," he said, with a little shiver. "Did that +man come up to his rooms?" + +"They both came in together," Ruth said. "They talked in a corner +for some time. The man who was with Isaac seemed terrified about +something. Then Isaac came over to me and asked about you." + +"What did you tell him?" Arnold asked. + +"I thought it best to know nothing at all," she replied. "I simply +said that you were going to have dinner with some of your new +friends." + +"Does he know who they are?" + +Ruth nodded. + +"Yes, we have spoken of that together," she admitted. "I had to tell +him of your good fortune. He knows how well you have been getting on +with Mr. and Mrs. Weatherley. Listen!--is that some one coming?" + +He turned around with her still in his arms, and started so +violently that if her fingers had not been locked behind his neck he +must have dropped her. Within a few feet of them was Isaac. He had +come up those five flights of stone steps without making a sound. +Even in that first second or two of amazement, Arnold noticed that +he was wearing canvas shoes with rubber soles. He stood with his +long fingers gripping the worn balustrade, only two steps below +them, and his face was like the face of some snarling animal. + +"Ruth," he demanded, hoarsely, "what are you doing out here at this +time of night--with him?" + +She slipped from Arnold's arms and leaned on her stick. To all +appearance, she was the least discomposed of the three. + +"Isaac," she answered, "Uncle Isaac, I was lonely--lonely and +terrified. You left me so strangely, and it is so silent up here. I +left a little note and asked Arnold, when he came home, to bid me +good night. He knocked at my door two minutes ago." + +Isaac threw open the door of their apartments. + +"Get in," he ordered. "I'll have an end put to it, Ruth. Look at +him!" he cried, mockingly, pointing to Arnold's evening clothes. +"What sort of a friend is that, do you think, for us? He wears the +fetters of his class. He is a hanger-on at the tables of our +enemies." + +"You can abuse me as much as you like," Arnold replied, calmly, "and +I shall still believe that I am an honest man. Are you, Isaac?" + +Isaac's eyes flashed venom. + +"Honesty! What is honesty?" he snarled. "What is it, I ask you? Is +the millionaire honest who keeps the laws because he has no call to +break them? Is that honesty? Is he a better man than the father who +steals to feed his hungry children? Is the one honest and the other +a thief? You smug hypocrite!" + +Arnold was silent for a moment. It flashed into his mind that here, +from the other side, came very nearly the same doctrine as Sabatini +had preached to him across his rose-shaded dining table. + +"It is too late to argue with you, Isaac," he said, pleasantly. +"Besides, I think that you and I are too far apart. But you must +leave me Ruth for my little friend. She would be lonely without me, +and I can do her no harm." + +Isaac opened his lips,--lips that were set in an ugly sneer--but he +met the steady fire of Arnold's eyes, and the words he would have +spoken remained unsaid. + +"Get to your room, then," he ordered. + +He passed on as though to enter his own apartments. Then suddenly he +stopped and listened. There was the sound of a footstep, a heavy, +marching footstep, coming along the Terrace below. With another look +now upon his face, he slunk to the window and peered down. The +footsteps came nearer and nearer, and Arnold could hear him +breathing like a hunted animal. Then they passed, and he stood up, +wiping the sweat from his forehead. + +"I have been hurrying," he muttered, half apologetically. "We had a +crowded meeting. Good night!" + +He turned into his rooms and closed the door. Arnold looked after +him for a moment and then up the street below. When he turned into +his own rooms, he was little enough inclined for sleep. He drew up +his battered chair to the window, threw it open, and sat looking +out. The bridge and the river were alike silent now. The sky signs +had gone, the murky darkness blotted out the whole scene, against +which the curving arc of lights shone with a fitful, ghostly light. +For a moment his fancy served him an evil trick. He saw the barge +with the blood-red sails. A cargo of evil beings thronged its side. +He saw their faces leering at him. Sabatini was there, standing at +the helm, calm and scornful. There was the dead man and Isaac, +Groves the butler, Fenella herself--pale as death, her hands +clasping at her bosom as though in pain. Arnold turned, shivering, +away; his head sank into his hands. It seemed to him that poison had +crept into those dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +DISCUSSING THE MYSTERY + + +At precisely half-past nine the next morning, Mr. Weatherley entered +his office in Tooley Street. His appearance, as he passed through +the outer office, gave rise to some comment. + +"The governor looks quite himself again," young Tidey remarked, +turning round on his stool. + +Mr. Jarvis, who was collecting the letters, nodded. + +"It's many months since I've heard him come in whistling," he +declared. + +Arnold, in the outer office, received his chief's morning salutation +with some surprise. Mr. Weatherley was certainly, to all appearance, +in excellent spirits. + +"Glad to see your late hours don't make any difference in the +morning, Chetwode," he said, pleasantly. "You seem to be seeing +quite a good deal of the wife, eh?" + +Arnold was almost dumbfounded. Any reference to the events of the +preceding evening was, for the moment, beyond him. Mr. Weatherley +calmly hung up his silk hat, took out the violets from the +button-hole of his overcoat and carried them to his desk. + +"Come along, Jarvis," he invited, as the latter entered with a +rustling heap of correspondence. "We'll sort the letters as quickly +as possible this morning. You come on the other side, Chetwode, and +catch hold of those which we keep to deal with together. Those Mr. +Jarvis can handle, I'll just initial. Let me see--you're sure those +bills of lading are in order, Jarvis?" + +Mr. Jarvis plunged into a few particulars, to which his chief +listened with keen attention. For half an hour or so they worked +without a pause. Mr. Weatherley was quite at his best. His +instructions were sage, and his grasp of every detail referred to in +the various letters was lucid and complete. When at last Mr. Jarvis +left with his pile, he did not hesitate to spread the good news. Mr. +Weatherley had got over his fit of depression, from whatever cause +it had arisen; a misunderstanding with his wife, perhaps, or a +certain amount of weariness entailed by his new manner of living. At +all events, something had happened to set matters right. Mr. Jarvis +was quite fluent upon the subject, and every one started his day's +work with renewed energy. + +Mr. Weatherley's energy did not evaporate with the departure of his +confidential clerk. He motioned Arnold to a chair, and for another +three-quarters of an hour he dictated replies to the letters which +he had sorted out for personal supervision. When at last this was +done, he leaned back in his seat, fetched out a box of cigars, +carefully selected one and lit it. + +"Now you had better get over to your corner and grind that lot out, +Chetwode," he said pleasantly. "How are you getting on with the +typing, eh?" + +"I am getting quicker," Arnold replied, still wondering whether the +whole events of last week had not been a dream. "I think, with a +little more practice, I shall be able to go quite fast enough." + +"Just so," his employer assented. "By the bye, is it my fancy, or +weren't you reading the newspaper when I came in? No time for +newspapers, you know, after nine o'clock." + +Arnold rose to his feet. This was more than he could bear! + +"I am sorry if I seemed inattentive, sir," he said. "Under the +circumstances, I could not help dwelling a little over this +paragraph. Perhaps you will look at it yourself, sir?" + +He brought it over to the desk. Mr. Weatherley put on his spectacles +with great care and drew the paper towards him. + +"Hm!" he ejaculated. "My eyesight isn't so good as it was, Chetwode, +and your beastly ha'penny papers have such small print. Read it out +to me--read it out to me while I smoke." + +He leaned back in his padded chair, his hands folded in front of +him, his cigar in the corner of his mouth. Arnold smoothed the paper +out and read: + + TERRIBLE DEATH OF AN UNKNOWN MAN. + FOUND DEAD IN A TAXICAB. + + Early this morning, a taxicab driver entered the police + station at Finchley Road North, and alleged that a + passenger whom he had picked up some short time before, + was dead. Inspector Challis, who was on duty at the time, + hastened out to the vehicle and found that the driver's + statement was apparently true. The deceased was carried + into the police station and a doctor was sent for. The + chauffeur's statement was that about midnight he was + hailed in the Grove End Road, Hampstead, by four men, one + of whom, evidently the deceased, he imagined to be the + worse for drink. Two of them entered the taxicab, and one + of the others directed him to drive to Finchley. After + some distance, however, the driver happened to glance + inside, and saw that only one of his passengers was + there. He at once stopped the vehicle, looked in at the + window, and, finding that the man was unconscious, drove + on to the police station. + + Later information seems to point to foul play, and there + is no doubt whatever that an outrage has been committed. + There was a wound upon the deceased's forehead, which the + doctor pronounces as the cause of death, and which had + evidently been dealt within the last hour or so with some + blunt instrument. The taxicab driver has been detained, + and a full description of the murdered man's companions + has been issued to the police. It is understood that + nothing was found upon the deceased likely to help + towards his identification. + +Arnold looked up as he finished. Mr. Weatherley was still smoking. +He seemed, indeed, very little disturbed. + +"A sensational story, that, Chetwode," he remarked. "You're not +supposing, are you, that it was the same man who broke into my house +last night?" + +"I know that it was, sir," Arnold replied. + +"You know that it was," Mr. Weatherley repeated, slowly. "Come, what +do you mean by that?" + +"I mean that after I left your house last night, sir," Arnold +explained, "I realized the impossibility of that man having been +carried down your drive and out into the road, with a policeman on +duty directly opposite, and a cabstand within a few yards. I +happened to remember that there was an empty house next door, and it +struck me that it might be worth while examining the premises." + +Mr. Weatherley withdrew the cigar from his mouth. + +"You did that, eh?" + +"I did," Arnold admitted. "I made my way to the back, and I found a +light in the room which presumably had been the kitchen. From a +chink in the boarded-up window I saw several men in the room, +including the man whom we discovered in your wife's boudoir, and who +had been spirited away. He was lying motionless upon the table, and +one of the others was apparently trying to restore him. When they +found that it was useless, they took him off with them by the back +way into Grove Lane. I saw two of them enter a taxicab and the other +two make off." + +"And what did you do then?" Mr. Weatherley asked. + +"I went and told Count Sabatini what I had seen," Arnold replied. + +"And after that?" + +"I went home." + +"You told no one else but Count Sabatini?" Mr. Weatherley persisted. + +"No one," Arnold answered. "I bought a paper on my way to business +this morning, and read what I have just read to you." + +"You haven't been rushing about ringing up to give information, or +anything of that sort?" + +"I have done nothing," Arnold asserted. "I waited to lay the matter +before you." + +Mr. Weatherley knocked the ash from his cigar, and, discovering that +it was out, carefully relit it. + +"Chetwode," he said, "I have advanced you from something a little +better than an office-boy, very rapidly, because it seemed to me +that you had qualities. The time has arrived to test them. The +secret of success in life is minding your own business. I am going +to ask you to mind your own business in this matter." + +"You mean," Arnold asked, "that you do not wish me to give any +information, to say anything about last night?" + +"I do not wish my name, or the name of my wife, or the name of my +house, to be associated with this affair at all," Mr. Weatherley +replied. "Mrs. Weatherley would be very much upset and it is, +besides, entirely unnecessary." + +Arnold hesitated for a moment. + +"It is a serious matter, sir, if you will permit me to say so," he +said slowly. "The man was murdered--that seems to be clear--and, +from what you and I know, it certainly seems that he was murdered in +your house." + +Mr. Weatherley shook his head. + +"That is not my impression," he declared. "The man was found dead in +Mrs. Weatherley's boudoir, but there was no one in the house or +apparently within reach who was either likely to have committed such +a crime, or who even could possibly have done so. On the other hand, +there are this man's companions, desperate fellows, no doubt, within +fifty yards all the time. My own impression is that he was killed +first and then placed in the spot where he was found. However that +may be, I don't want my house made the rendezvous of all the +interviewers and sightseers in the neighborhood. You and I will keep +our counsel, Arnold Chetwode." + +"Might I ask," Arnold said, "if you knew this man--if you had ever +come into contact with him or seen him before?" + +"Certainly not," Mr. Weatherley replied. "What business could I +possibly have with a person of that description? He seems to have +been, if not an habitual criminal himself, at least an associate of +criminals, and he was without doubt a foreigner. Between you and +me, Chetwode, I haven't the least doubt that the fellow was one of a +gang of the worst class of burglars. Wherever he got that blow from, +it was probably no more than he deserved." + +"But, Mr. Weatherley," Arnold protested, "don't you think that you +ought to have an investigation among your household?" + +"My dear young fellow," Mr. Weatherley answered, testily, "I keep no +men-servants at all except old Groves, who's as meek-spirited as a +baby, and a footman whom my wife has just engaged, and who was out +for the evening. A blow such as the paper describes was certainly +never struck by a woman, and there was just as certainly no other +man in my house. There is nothing to inquire about. As a matter of +fact, I am not curious. The man is dead and there's an end of it." + +"You will bear in mind, sir," Arnold said, "that if it comes to +light afterwards, as it very probably may, that the man was first +discovered in Mrs. Weatherley's boudoir, the scandal and gossip will +be a great deal worse than if you came forward and told the whole +truth now." + +"I take my risk of that," Mr. Weatherley replied, coolly. "There +isn't a soul except Groves who saw him, and Groves is my man. Now be +so good as to get on with those letters, Chetwode, and consider the +incident closed." + +Arnold withdrew to his typewriter and commenced his task. The day +had commenced with a new surprise to him. The nervous, shattered Mr. +Weatherley of yesterday was gone. After a happening in his house +which might well have had a serious effect upon him, he seemed not +only unmoved but absolutely restored to cheerfulness. He was reading +the paper for himself now, and the room was rapidly becoming full of +tobacco smoke. Arnold spelled out his letters one by one until the +last was finished. Then he took them over to his employer to sign. +One by one Mr. Weatherley read them through, made an alteration here +and there, then signed them with his large, sprawling hand. Just as +he had finished the last, the telephone by his side rang. He took +the receiver and placed it to his ear. Arnold waited until he had +finished. Mr. Weatherley himself said little. He seemed to be +listening. Towards the end, he nodded slightly. + +"Yes, I quite understand," he said, "quite. That was entirely my own +opinion. No case at all, you say? Good!" + +He replaced the receiver and leaned back in his chair. For the first +time, when he spoke his voice was a little hoarse. + +"Chetwode," he said, "ring up my house--16, Post Office, Hampstead. +Ask Groves to tell his mistress that I thought she might be +interested to hear that Mr. Starling will be discharged this +morning. The police are abandoning the case against him, at present, +for lack of evidence." + +Arnold stood for a moment quite still. Then he took up the receiver +and obeyed his orders. Groves' voice was as quiet and respectful as +ever. He departed with the message and Arnold rang off. Then he +turned to Mr. Weatherley. + +"Have you any objection to my ringing up some one else and telling +him, too?" he asked. + +Mr. Weatherley looked at him. + +"You are like all of them," he remarked. "I suppose you think he's a +sort of demigod. I never knew a young man yet that he couldn't twist +round his little finger. You want to ring up Count Sabatini, I +suppose?" + +"I should like to," Arnold admitted. + +"Very well, go on," Mr. Weatherley grumbled. "Let him know. Perhaps +it will be as well." + +Arnold took from his pocket the note which Sabatini had written to +him, and which contained his telephone number. Then he rang up. The +call was answered by his valet. + +"In one moment, sir," he said. "The telephone rings into His +Excellency's bedchamber. He shall speak to you himself." + +A minute or two passed. Then the slow, musical voice of Sabatini +intervened. + +"Who is that speaking?" + +"It is I--Arnold Chetwode," Arnold answered. "I am speaking from the +office in the city. I heard some news a few minutes ago which I +thought might interest you." + +"Good!" Sabatini replied, stifling what seemed to be a yawn. "You +have awakened me from a long sleep, so let your news be good, my +young friend." + +"Mr. Weatherley hears from a solicitor at Bow Street that the police +have abandoned the charge against Mr. Starling," Arnold announced. +"He will be set at liberty as soon as the court opens." + +There was a moment's silence. It was as though the person at the +other end had gone away. + +"Did you hear?" Arnold asked. + +"Yes, I heard," Sabatini answered. "I am very much obliged to you +for ringing me up, my young friend. I quite expected to hear your +news during the day. No one would really suppose that a respectable +man like Starling would be guilty of such a ridiculous action. +However, it is pleasant to know. I thank you. I take my coffee and +rolls this morning with more appetite." + +Arnold set down the telephone. Mr. Weatherley, had risen to his feet +and walked as far as the window. On his way back to his place, he +looked at the little safe which he had made over to his secretary. + +"You've got my papers there all right, Chetwode?" he asked. + +"Certainly, sir," Arnold answered. "I hope, however, we may never +need to use them." + +Mr. Weatherley smiled. He was busy choosing another cigar. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +IN THE COUNTRY + + +They sat on the edge of the wood, and a west wind made music for +them overhead among the fir trees. From their feet a clover field +sloped steeply to a honeysuckle-wreathed hedge. Beyond that, +meadow-land, riven by the curving stream which stretched like a +thread of silver to the blue, hazy distance. Arnold laughed softly +with the pleasure of it, but the wonder kept Ruth tongue-tied. + +"I feel," she murmured, "as though I were in a theatre for the first +time. Everything is strange." + +"It is the theatre of nature," Arnold replied. "If you close your +eyes and listen, you can hear the orchestra. There is a lark singing +above my head, and a thrush somewhere back in the wood there." + +"And see, in the distance there are houses," Ruth continued softly. +"Just fancy, Arnold, people, if they had no work to do, could live +here, could live always out of sight of the hideous, smoky city, out +of hearing of its thousand discords." + +He smiled. + +"There are a great many who feel like that," he said, his eyes fixed +upon the horizon, "and then, as the days go by, they find that +there is something missing. The city of a thousand discords +generally has one clear cry, Ruth." + +"For you, perhaps," she answered, "because you are young and because +you are ambitious. But for me who lie on my back all day long, think +of the glory of this!" + +Arnold slowly sat up. + +"Upon my word!" he exclaimed. "Why not. Why shouldn't you stay in +the country for the summer? I hate London, too. There are cheap +tickets, and bicycles, and all sorts of things. I wonder whether we +couldn't manage it." + +She said nothing. His thoughts were busy with the practical side of +it. There was an opportunity here, too, to prepare her for what he +felt sure was inevitable. + +"You know, Ruth," he said, "I don't wish to say anything against +Isaac, and I don't want to make you uneasy, but you know as well as +I do that he has a strange maggot in his brain. When I first heard +him talk, I thought of him as a sort of fanatic. It seems to me that +he has changed. I am not sure that such changes as have taken place +in him lately have not been for the worse." + +"Tell me what you mean?" she begged. + +"I mean," he continued, "that Isaac, who perhaps in himself may be +incapable of harm, might be an easy prey to those who worked upon +his wild ideas. Hasn't it struck you that for the last few days--" + +She clutched at his hand and stopped him. + +"Don't!" she implored. "These last few days have been horrible. +Isaac has not left his room except to creep out sometimes into mine. +He keeps his door locked. What he does I don't know, but if he +hears a step on the stairs he slinks away, and his face is like the +face of a hunted wolf. Arnold, do you think that he has been getting +into trouble?" + +"I am afraid," Arnold said, regretfully, "that it is not impossible. +Tell me, Ruth, you are very fond of him?" + +"He was my mother's brother--the only relative I have in the world," +she answered. "What could I do without him?" + +"He doesn't seem to want you particularly, just now, at any rate," +Arnold said. "I don't see why we shouldn't take rooms out at one of +these little villages. I could go back and forth quite easily. You'd +like it, wouldn't you, Ruth? Fancy lying in a low, comfortable +chair, and looking up at the blue sky, and listening to the birds +and the humming of bees. The hours would slip by." + +"I should love it," she murmured. + +"Then why not?" he cried. "I'll stop the car at the next village we +come to, and make inquiries." + +She laid her hand softly upon his. + +"Arnold, dear," she begged, "it sounds very delightful, and yet, +can't you see it is impossible? I am not quite like other women, +perhaps, but, after all, I am a woman. It is for your sake--for your +sake, mind--that I think of this." + +He turned and looked at her--looked at her, perhaps, with new eyes. +She was stretched almost at full length upon the grass, her head, +which had been supported by her clasped hands, now turned towards +him. As she lay there, with her stick out of sight, her lips a +little parted, her eyes soft with the sunlight, a faint touch of +color in her cheeks, he suddenly realized the significance of her +words. Her bosom was rising and falling quickly. Her plain black +dress, simply made though it was, showed no defect of figure. Her +throat was soft and white. The curve of her body was even graceful. +The revelation of these things came as a shock to Arnold, yet it was +curious that he found a certain pleasure in it. + +"I had forgotten, Ruth," he said slowly, "but does it matter? You +have no one in the world but Isaac, and I have no one in the world +at all. Don't you think we can afford to do what seems sensible?" + +Her eyes never left his face. She made no sign either of assent or +dissent. + +"Arnold," she declared, "it is true that I am an outcast. I have +scarcely a relative in the world. But what you say about yourself is +hard to believe. I have never asked you questions because it is not +my business, but there are many little things by which one tells. I +think that somewhere you have a family belonging to you with a name, +even if, for any reason, you do not choose just now to claim them." + +He made no direct reply. He watched for some moments a white-sailed +boat come tacking down the narrow strip of river. + +"I am my own master, Ruth," he said; "I have no one else to please +or to consider. I understand what you have just told me, but if I +gave you my word that I would try and be to you what Isaac might +have been if he had not been led away by these strange ideas, +wouldn't you trust me, Ruth?" + +"It isn't that!" she exclaimed. "Trust you? Why, you know that I +would! It isn't that I mind for myself either what people would +say--or anything, but I am thinking of your new friends, of your +future. If they knew that you were living down in the country with a +girl, even though she were an invalid, who was no relation at all, +don't you think that it might make a difference?" + +"Of course not," he replied, "and, in any case, what should I care? +It would be the making of you, Ruth. You would be able to pick up +your strength, so that when our money-box is full you would be able +to have that operation and never dare to call yourself an invalid +again." + +She half closed her eyes. The spell of summer was in the air, the +spell of life was stirring slowly in her frozen blood. + +"Ah! Arnold," she murmured, "I do not think that you must talk like +that. It makes me feel so much like yielding. Somehow, the dreams +out here seem even more wonderful than the visions which come +floating up the river. There's more life here. Don't you feel it? +Something seems to creep into your heart, into your pulses, and tell +you what life is." + +He made no answer. The world of the last few throbbing weeks seemed +far enough away with him, too. He picked a handful of clover and +thrust it into the bosom of her gown. Then he rose reluctantly to +his feet and held out his hands. + +"I think," he said, "that the great gates of freedom must be +somewhere out here, but just now one is forced to remember that we +are slaves." + +He drew her to her feet, placed the stick in her hand, and supported +her other arm. They walked for a step or two down the narrow path +which led through the clover field to the lane below. Then, with a +little laugh, he caught her up in his arms. + +"It will be quicker if I carry you, Ruth," he proposed. "The weeds +twine their way all the time around your stick." + +She linked her arms around his neck; her cheek touched his for a +moment, and he was surprised to find it as hot as fire. He stepped +out bravely enough, but with every step it seemed to him that she +was growing heavier. Her hands were still tightly linked around his +neck, but her limbs were inert. She seemed to be falling away. He +held her tighter, his breath began to grow shorter. The perfume of +the clover, fragrant and delicate, grew stronger with every step +they took. Somehow he felt that that walk along the narrow path was +carving its way into his life. The fingers at the back of his neck +were cold, yet she, too, was breathing as though she had been +running. Her eyes were half closed. He looked once into her face, +bent over her until his lips nearly touched hers. He set his teeth +hard. Some instinct warned him of the dangers of the moment. Her +stick slipped and a lump arose in his throat. The moment had passed. +He kissed her softly upon the forehead. + +"Dear Ruth!" he whispered. + +She turned very pale and very soon afterward she insisted upon being +set down. They walked slowly to where the motor car was waiting at +the corner of the lane. Ruth began to talk nervously. + +"It was charming of Mrs. Weatherley," she declared, "to lend you +this car. Tell me how it happened, Arnie?" + +"I simply told her," he replied, "that I was going to take a +friend, who needed a little fresh air, out into the country, and she +insisted upon sending this car instead of letting me hire a taxicab. +It was over the telephone and I couldn't refuse. Besides, Mr. +Weatherley was in the office, and he insisted upon it, too. They +only use this one in London, and I know that they are away somewhere +for the week-end." + +"It has been so delightful," Ruth murmured. "Now I am going to lie +back among these beautiful cushions, and just watch and think." + +The car glided on along the country lane, passing through leafy +hamlets, across a great breezy moorland, from the top of which they +could see the Thames winding its way into Oxfordshire, a sinuous +belt of silver. Then they sped down into the lower country, and +Arnold looked at the milestones in some surprise. + +"We don't seem to be getting any nearer to London," he remarked. + +Ruth only shook her head. + +"It will come soon enough," she said, with a little shiver. "It will +pass, this, like everything else." + +They had dropped to the level now, and suddenly, without warning, +the car swung through a low white gate up along an avenue of shrubs. +Arnold leaned forward. + +"Where are you taking us?" he asked the driver. "There is some +mistake." + +But there was no mistake. A turn of the wheel and the car was +slowing down before the front of a long, ivy-covered house, with a +lawn as smooth as velvet, and beyond, the soft murmur of the river. +Ruth clutched at his arm. + +"Arnold!" she exclaimed. "What does this mean? Who lives here?" + +"I have no idea," he answered, "unless--" + +The windows in front of the house were all of them open and all of +them level with the drive. Through the nearest of them at that +moment stepped Fenella. She stood, for a moment, framed in the long +French window, hung with clematis,--a wonderful picture even for +Arnold, a revelation to Ruth,--in her cool muslin frock, open at the +throat, and held together by a brooch with a great green stone. She +wore no hat, and her wonderful hair seemed to have caught the +sunlight in its meshes. Her eyebrows were a little raised; her +expression was a little supercilious, faintly inquisitive. Already +she had looked past Arnold. Her eyes were fixed upon the girl by his +side. + +"I began to think that you were lost," she said gayly. "Won't you +present me to your friend, Arnold?" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +WOMAN'S WILES + + +Arnold sprang to his feet. It was significant that, after his first +surprise, he spoke to Fenella with his head half turned towards his +companion, and an encouraging smile upon his lips. + +"I had no idea that we were coming here," he said. "We should not +have thought of intruding. It was your chauffeur who would not even +allow us to ask a question." + +"He obeyed my orders," Fenella replied. "I meant it for a little +surprise for you. I thought that it would be pleasant after your +drive to have you call here and rest for a short time. You must +present me to your friend." + +Arnold murmured a word of introduction. Ruth moved a little in her +seat. She lifted herself with her left hand, leaning upon her stick. +Fenella's expression changed as though by magic. Her cool, +good-humored, but almost impertinent scrutiny suddenly vanished. She +moved to the side of the motor car and held out both her hands. + +"I am so glad to see you here," she declared. "I hope that you will +like some tea after your long ride. Perhaps you would prefer Mr. +Chetwode to help you out?" + +"You are very kind," Ruth murmured. "I am sorry to be such a trouble +to everybody." + +Arnold lifted her bodily out of the car and placed her on the edge +of the lawn. Fenella, a long parasol in her hand, was looking +pleasantly down at her guest. + +"You will find it quite picturesque here, I think," she said. "It is +not really the river itself which comes to the end of the lawn, but +a little stream. It is so pretty, though, and so quiet. I thought +you would like to have tea down there. But, my poor child," she +exclaimed, "your hair is full of dust! You must come to my room. It +is on the ground floor here. Mr. Chetwode and I together can help +you so far." + +They turned back toward the house and passed into the cool white +hall, the air of which was fragrant with the perfume of geraniums +and clematis. On the threshold of Fenella's room they were alone for +a moment. Fenella was summoning her maid. Ruth clung nervously to +Arnold. The room into which they looked was like a fairy chamber, +full of laces and perfume and fine linen. + +"Arnold," she whispered, "you are sure that you did not know about +coming here?" + +"I swear that I had no idea," he answered. "I would not have thought +of bringing you without telling you first." + +Then Fenella returned and he was banished into the garden. At the +end of the lawn he found Mr. Weatherley, half asleep in a wicker +chair. The latter was apparently maintaining his good spirits. + +"Glad to see you, Chetwode," he said. "Sort of plot of my wife's, I +think. Your young lady friend in the house?" + +"Mrs. Weatherley was kind enough to take her to her room," Arnold +replied. "We have had a most delightful ride, and I suppose it was +dusty, although we never noticed it." + +Mr. Weatherley relit his cigar, which had gone out while he dozed. + +"Thought we'd like a little country air ourselves for the week-end," +he remarked. "Will you smoke?" + +Arnold shook his head. + +"Not just now, thank you, sir. Is that the river through the trees +there?" + +Mr. Weatherley nodded. + +"It's about a hundred yards down the stream," he replied. +"Bourne End is the nearest station. The cottage belongs to my +brother-in-law--Sabatini. I believe he's coming down later on. Any +news at the office yesterday morning?" + +"There was nothing whatever requiring your attention, sir," Arnold +said. "There are a few letters which we have kept over for +to-morrow, but nothing of importance." + +Mr. Weatherley pursed his lips and nodded. He asked a further +question or two concerning the business and then turned his head at +the sound of approaching footsteps. Ruth, looking very pale and +fragile, was leaning on the arm of a man-servant. Fenella walked on +the other side, her lace parasol drooping over her shoulder, her +head turned towards Ruth's, whose shyness she was doing her best to +melt. Mr. Weatherley rose hastily from his chair. + +"God bless my soul!" he declared. "I didn't know--you didn't tell +me--" + +"Miss Lalonde has been a great sufferer," Arnold said. "She has been +obliged to spend a good deal of her time lying down. For that +reason, to-day has been such a pleasure to her." + +He hurried forward and took the butler's place. Together they +installed her in the most comfortable chair. Mr. Weatherley came +over and shook hands with her. + +"Pretty place, this, Miss Lalonde, isn't it?" he remarked. "It's a +real nice change for business men like Mr. Chetwode and myself to +get down here for an hour or two's quiet." + +"It is wonderfully beautiful," she answered. "It is so long since I +was out of London that perhaps I appreciate it more, even, than +either of you." + +"What part of London do you live in?" Fenella asked her. + +"My uncle and I have rooms in the same house as Mr. Chetwode," she +replied. "It is in Adam Street, off the Strand." + +"Not much air there this hot weather, I don't suppose," Mr. +Weatherley remarked. + +"We are on the top floor," she replied, "and it is the end house, +nearest to the river. Still, one feels the change here." + +Tea was brought out by the butler, assisted by a trim parlor-maid. +Fenella presided. The note of domesticity which her action involved +seemed to Arnold, for some reason or other, quaintly incongruous. +Arnold waited upon them, and Fenella talked all the time to the +pale, silent girl at her side. Gradually Ruth overcame her shyness; +it was impossible not to feel grateful to this beautiful, gracious +woman who tried so hard to make her feel at her ease. The time +slipped by pleasantly enough. Then Fenella rose to her feet. + +"You must carry Miss Lalonde and her chair down to the very edge of +the lawn, where she can see the river," she told Arnold. +"Afterwards, I am going to take you to see my little rose garden. I +say mine, but it is really my brother's, only it was my idea when he +first took the place. Mr. Weatherley is going down to the +boat-builder's to see some motor-launches--horrible things they are, +but necessary if we stay here for the summer. Would you like some +books or magazines, Miss Lalonde, or do you think you would care to +come with us if we helped you very carefully?" + +Ruth shook her head. + +"I should like to sit quite close to the river," she said shyly, +"just where you said, and close my eyes. You don't know how +beautiful it is to get the roar of London out of one's ears, and be +able to hear nothing except these soft, summer sounds. It is like a +wonderful rest." + +They arranged her comfortably. Mr. Weatherley returned to the house. +Fenella led the way through a little iron gate to a queer miniature +garden, a lawn brilliant with flower-beds, ending in a pergola of +roses. They passed underneath it and all around them the soft, +drooping blossoms filled the whole air with fragrance. At the end +was the river and a wooden seat. She motioned to him to sit by her +side. + +"You are not angry with me?" she asked, a little timidly. + +"Angry? Why should I be?" he answered. "The afternoon has been +delightful. I can't tell you how grateful I feel." + +"All the same," she said, "I think you know that I laid a plot to +bring you here because I was curious about this companion of yours, +for whose sake you refused my invitation. However, you see I am +penitent. Poor girl, how can one help feeling sorry for her! You +forgive me?" + +"I forgive you," he answered. + +She closed her parasol and leaned back in her corner of the seat. +She seemed to be studying his expression. + +"There is something different about you this afternoon," she said. +"I miss a look from your face, something in your tone when you are +talking to me." + +He shook his head. + +"I am not conscious of any difference." + +She laughed softly, but she seemed, even then, a little annoyed. + +"You are not appreciating me," she declared. "Do you know that here, +in the wilderness, I have put on a Paquin muslin gown, white shoes +from Paris, white silk stockings--of which you can see at least two +inches," she added, glancing downwards. "I have risked my complexion +by wearing no hat, so that you can see my hair really at its best. I +looked in the glass before you came and even my vanity was +satisfied. Now I bring you away with me and find you a seat in a +bower of roses, and you look up into that elm tree as though you +were more anxious to find out where the thrush was singing than to +look at me." + +He laughed. Through the raillery of her words he could detect a +certain half-girlish earnestness which seemed to him delightful. + +"Try and remember," he said, "how wonderful a day like this must +seem to any one like myself, who has spent day after day for many +months in Tooley Street. I have been sitting up on the hills, +listening to the wind in the trees. You can't imagine the difference +when you've been used to hearing nothing but the rumble of drays on +their way to Bermondsey." + +She looked up at him. + +"You know," she declared, "you are rather a mysterious person. I +cannot make up my mind that you are forced to live the life you do." + +"You do not suppose," he replied, "that any sane person would choose +it? It is well enough now, thanks to you," he added, dropping his +voice a little. "A week ago, I was earning twenty-eight shillings a +week, checking invoices and copying letters--an errand boy's work; +pure, unadulterated drudgery, working in a wretched atmosphere, +without much hope of advancement or anything else." + +"But even then you leave part of my question unanswered," she +insisted. "You were not born to this sort of thing?" + +"I was not," he admitted; "but what does it matter?" + +"You don't care to tell me your history?" she asked lazily. +"Sometimes I am curious about it." + +"If I refuse," he answered, "it may give you a false impression. I +will tell you a little, if I may. A few sentences will be enough." + +"I should really like to hear," she told him. + +"Very well, then," he replied. "My father was a clergyman, his +family was good. He and I lived almost alone. He had an income and +his stipend, but he was ambitious for me, and, by some means or +other, while I was away he was led to invest all his money with one +of these wretched bucket-shop companies. A telegram fetched me home +unexpectedly just as I was entering for my degree. I found my father +seriously ill and almost broken-hearted. I stayed with him, and in a +fortnight he died. There was just enough--barely enough--to pay what +he owed, and nothing left of his small fortune. His brother, my +uncle, came down to the funeral, and I regret to say that even then +I quarreled with him. He made use of language concerning my father +and his folly which I could not tolerate. My father was very simple +and very credulous and very honorable. He was just the sort of man +who becomes the prey of these wretched circular-mongering sharks. +What he did, he did for my sake. My uncle spoke of him with +contempt, spoke as though he were charged with the care of me +through my father's foolishness. I am afraid I made no allowance for +my uncle's peculiar temperament. The moment the funeral was over, I +turned him out of the house. I have no other relatives. I came to +London sooner than remain down in the country and be found a +position out of charity, which is, I suppose, what would have +happened. I took a room and looked for work. Naturally, I was glad +to get anything. I used to make about forty calls a day, till I +called at your husband's office in Tooley Street and got a +situation." + +She nodded. + +"I thought it was something like that," she remarked. "Supposing I +had not happened to discover you, I wonder how long you would have +gone on?" + +"Not much longer," he admitted. "To tell you the truth, I should +have enlisted but for that poor little girl whom I brought down with +me this afternoon." + +His tone had softened. There was the slightest trace of a frown upon +her face as she looked along the riverside. + +"But tell me," she asked, "what is your connection with her?" + +"One of sympathy and friendliness only," he answered. "I never saw +her till I took the cheapest room I could find at the top of a gaunt +house near the Strand. The rest of the top floor is occupied by this +girl and her uncle. He is a socialist agitator, engaged on one of +the trades' union papers,--a nervous, unbalanced creature, on fire +with strange ideas,--the worst companion in the world for any one. +Sometimes he is away for days together. Sometimes, when he is at +home, he talks like a prophet, half mad, half inspired, as though he +were tugging at the pillars which support the world. The girl and he +are alone as I am alone, and there is something which brings people +very close together when they are in that state. I found her fallen +upon the landing one day and unable to reach her rooms, and I +carried her in and talked. Since then she looks for me every +evening, and we spend some part of the time together." + +"Is she educated?" + +"Excellently," he answered. "She was brought up in a convent after +her parents' death. She has read a marvellous collection of books, +and she is very quick-witted and appreciative." + +"But you," she said, "are no longer a waif. These things are +passing for you. You cannot carry with you to the new world the +things which belong to the old." + +"No prosperity should ever come to me," he declared, firmly, "in +which that child would not share to some extent. With the first two +hundred pounds I possess, if ever I do possess such a sum," he +added, with a little laugh, "I am going to send her to Vienna, to +the great hospital there." + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"Two hundred pounds is not a large sum," she remarked. "Would you +like me to lend it to you?" + +He shook his head. + +"She would not hear of it," he said. "In her way, she is very +proud." + +"It may come of its own accord," she whispered, softly. "You may +even have an opportunity of earning it." + +"I am doing well enough just now," he remarked, "thanks to Mr. +Weatherley, but sums of money like that do not fall from the +clouds." + +They were both silent. She seemed to be listening to the murmur of +the stream. His head was lifted to the elm tree, from somewhere +among whose leafy recesses a bird was singing. + +"One never knows," she said softly. "You yourself have seen and +heard of strange things happening within the last few days." + +He came back to earth with a little start. + +"It is true," he confessed. + +"There is life still," she continued, "throbbing sometimes in the +dull places, adventures which need only the strong arm and the +man's courage. One might come to you, and adventures do not go +unrewarded." + +"You talk like your brother," he remarked. + +"Why not?" she replied. "Andrea and I have much in common. Do you +know that sometimes you provoke me a little?" + +"I?" + +She nodded. + +"You have so much the air of a conqueror," she said. "You look as +though you had courage and determination. One could see that by your +mouth. And yet you are so much like the men of your nation, so +stolid, so certain to move along the narrow lines which convention +has drawn for you. Oh! if I could," she went on, leaning towards him +and looking intently into his face, "I would borrow the magic from +somewhere and mix a little in your wine, so that you should drink +and feel the desire for new things; so that the world of Tooley +Street should seem to you as though it belonged to a place inhabited +only by inferior beings; so that you should feel new blood in your +veins, hot blood crying for adventures, a new heart beating to a new +music. I would like, if I could, Arnold, to bring those things into +your life." + +He turned and looked at her. Her face was within a few inches of +his. She was in earnest. The gleam in her eyes was half-provocative, +half a challenge. Arnold rose uneasily to his feet. + +"I must go back," he said, a little thickly. "I forgot that Ruth is +so shy. She will be frightened alone." + +He walked away down the pergola without even waiting for her. It was +very rude, but she only leaned back in her chair and laughed. In a +way, it was a triumph! + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +ARNOLD SPEAKS OUT + + +Ruth was still alone, and her welcome was almost pathetic. She +stretched out her arms--long, thin arms they seemed in the tight +black sleeves of her worn gown. She had discarded her carefully +mended gloves and her hands were bare. + +"Arnold," she murmured, "how long you have been away!" + +He threw himself on the grass by her side. + +"Silly little woman!" he answered. "Don't tell me that you are not +enjoying it?" + +"It is all wonderful," she whispered, "but can't you see that I am +out of place? When could we go, Arnie?" + +"Are you so anxious to get away?" he asked, lazily. + +"In a way, I should be content to stay here for ever," she answered. +"If you and I only could be here--why, Arnold, it is like Heaven! +Just close your eyes as I have been doing--like that. Now listen. +There isn't any undernote, none of that ceaseless, awful monotony of +sound that seems like the falling of weary men's feet upon the +eternal pavement. Listen--there is a bird singing somewhere in that +tree, and the water goes lapping and lapping and lapping, as though +it had something pleasant to say but were too lazy to say it. And +every now and then, if you listen very intently, you can hear +laughing voices through the trees there from the river, laughter +from people who are happy, who are sailing on somewhere to find +their city of pleasure. And the perfumes, Arnold! I don't know what +the rose garden is like, but even from here I can smell it. It is +wonderful." + +"Yet you ask me when we are going," he reminded her. + +She shivered for a moment. + +"It is not my world," she declared. "I am squeezed for a moment into +a little corner of it, but it is not mine and I have nothing to do +with it. She is so beautiful, that woman, and so gracious. She talks +to me out of pity, but when I first came she looked at me and there +was a challenge in her eyes. What did it mean, Arnold? Is she fond +of you? Is she going to be fond of you?" + +He laughed, a little impatiently. + +"My dear Ruth," he said, "she is my employer's wife. She has been +kind to me because I think that she is naturally kind, and because +lately she has not found among her friends many people of her own +age. Beyond that, there is nothing; there is never likely to be +anything. She mixes in a world where she can have all the admiration +she desires, and all the friends." + +"Yet she looks at you," Ruth persisted, in a troubled tone, "as +though she had some claim; as though I, even poor I, were an +interloper for the tiny share I might have of your thoughts or +sympathy. I do not understand it." + +He touched her hand lightly with his. + +"You are too sensitive, dear," he said, "and a little too +imaginative. You must remember that she is half a foreigner. Her +moods change every moment, and her expression with them. She was +curious to see you. I have tried to explain to her what friends we +are. I am sure that her interest is a friendly one." + +A motor horn immediately behind startled them both. They turned +their heads. A very handsome car, driven by a man in white livery, +had swept up the little drive and had come to a standstill in front +of the hall door. From the side nearest to them Count Sabatini +descended, and stood for a moment looking around him. The car moved +on towards the stables. Sabatini came slowly across the lawn. + +"Who is it?" she whispered. "How handsome he is!" + +"He is Mrs. Weatherley's brother--Count Sabatini," Arnold replied. + +He came very slowly and, recognizing Arnold, waved his gray Homburg +hat with a graceful salute. He was wearing cool summer clothes of +light gray, with a black tie, boots with white linen gaiters, and a +flower in his coat. Even after his ride from London he looked +immaculate and spotless. He greeted Arnold kindly and without any +appearance of surprise. + +"I heard that you were to be here," he said. "My sister told me of +her little plot. I hope that you approve of my bungalow?" + +"I think that it is wonderful," Arnold answered. "I have never seen +anything of the river before--this part of it, at any rate." + +Sabatini turned slightly towards Ruth, as though expecting an +introduction. His lips were half parted; he had the air of one about +to make a remark. Then suddenly a curious change seemed to come over +his manner. His natural ease seemed to have entirely departed. He +stood stiff and rigid, and there was something forbidding in his +face as he looked down at the girl who had glanced timidly towards +him. A word--it was inaudible but it sounded like part of a woman's +name--escaped him. He had the appearance, during those few seconds, +of a man who looks through the present into a past world. It was all +over before even they could appreciate the situation. With a little +smile he had leaned down towards Ruth. + +"You will do me the honor," he murmured, "of presenting me to your +companion?" + +Arnold spoke a word or two of introduction. Sabatini pulled up a +chair and sat down at once by the girl's side. He had seen the stick +and seemed to have taken in the whole situation in a moment. + +"Please be very good-natured," he begged, turning to Arnold, "and go +and find my sister. She will like to know that I am here. I am going +to talk to Miss Lalonde for a time, if she will let me. You don't +mind my being personal?" he went on, his voice soft with sympathy. +"I had a very dear cousin once who was unable to walk for many +years, and since then it has always interested me to find any one +suffering in the same way." + +There was a simple directness about his speech which seemed to open +the subject so naturally that Ruth found herself talking without +effort of her accident, and the trouble it had brought. They drifted +so easily into conversation that Arnold left them almost at once. He +had only a little distance to go before he found Fenella returning. +She was carrying a great handful of roses which she had just +gathered, and to his relief there was no expression of displeasure +in her face. Perhaps, though, he reflected with a sinking heart, she +had understood! + +"Your brother has just arrived," he announced. "I think that he has +motored down from London. He wished me to let you know that he was +here." + +"Where is he?" she asked. + +"He is on the lawn, talking to Miss Lalonde," Arnold replied. + +"I will go to them presently," she said. "In the meantime, you are +to make yourself useful, if you please," she added, holding out the +roses. "Take these into the house, will you, and give them to one of +the women." + +He took them from her. + +"With pleasure! And then, if you will excuse us,--" + +"I excuse no word which is spoken concerning your departure," she +declared. "To-night I give a little fete. We change our dinner into +what you call supper, and we will have the dining table moved out +under the trees there. You and your little friend must stop, and +afterwards my brother will take you back to London in his car, or I +will send you up in my own." + +"You are too kind," Arnold answered. "I am afraid--" + +"You are to be afraid of nothing," she interrupted, mockingly. "Is +that not just what I have been preaching to you? You have too many +fears for your height, my friend." + +"We will put it another way, then. I was thinking of Miss Lalonde. +She is not strong, and I think it is time we were leaving. If you +could send us so far as the railway station--" + +"There are no trains that leave here," she asserted; "at least, I +never heard of them. I shall go and talk to her myself. We shall +see. No, on second thoughts, she is too interested. You and I will +walk to the house together. That is one thing," she continued, +"which I envy my brother, which makes me admire him so much. I think +he is the most charmingly sympathetic person I ever met. Illness of +any sort, or sickness, seems to make a woman of him. I never knew a +child or a woman whose interest or sympathy he could not win +quickly." + +"It is a wonderful thing to say of any man, that," Arnold remarked. + +"Wonderful?" she repeated. "Why, yes! So far as regards children, at +any rate. You know they say--one of the writers in my mother's +country said--that men are attracted by beauty, children by +goodness; and women by evil. It is of some such saying that you are +thinking. Now I shall leave these flowers in the hall and ring the +bell. Tell me, would you like me to show you my books?" + +She laid her fingers upon the white door of her little drawing-room +and looked at him. + +"If you do not mind," he replied, "I should like to hear what Ruth +says about going." + +This time she frowned. She stood looking at him for a moment. +Arnold's face was very square and determined, but there were still +things there which she appreciated. + +"You are very formal, to-day," she declared. "You give too many of +your thoughts to your little friend. I do not think that you are +treating me kindly. I should like to sit with you in my room and to +talk to you of my books. Look, is it not pretty?" + +She threw open the door. It was a tiny little apartment, in which +all the appointments and the walls were white, except for here and +there a little French gilded furniture of the best period. A great +bowl of scarlet geraniums stood in one corner. Though the windows +were open, the blinds were closely drawn, so that it was almost like +twilight. + +"You won't come for five minutes?" she begged. + +"Yes!" he answered, almost savagely. "Come in and shut the door. I +want to talk to you--not about your books. Yes, let us sit +down--where you will. That couch is big enough for both of us." + +The sudden change in his manner was puzzling. The two had changed +places. The struggle was at an end, but it was scarcely as a victim +that Arnold leaned towards her. + +"Give me your hands," he said. + +"Arnold!" she whispered. + +He took them both and drew her towards him. + +"What is it you want?" he asked. "Not me--I know that. You are +beautiful, you know that I admire you, you know that a day like this +is like a day out of some wonderful fairy story for me. I am young +and foolish, I suppose, just as easily led away as most young men +are. Do you want to make me believe impossible things? You look at +me from the corners of your eyes and you laugh. Do you want to make +use of me in any way? You're not a flirt. You are a wife, and a good +wife. Do you know that men less impressionable than I have been +made slaves for life by women less beautiful than you, without any +effort on their part, even? No, I won't be laughed at! This is +reality! What is it you want?" He leaned towards her. "Do you want +me to kiss you? Do you want me to hold you in my arms? I could do +it. I should like to do it. I will, if you tell me to. Only +afterwards--" + +"Afterwards, what?" + +"I shall do what I should have done if your husband hadn't taken me +into his office--I should enlist," he said. "I mayn't be +particularly ambitious, but I've no idea of hanging about, a +penniless adventurer, dancing at a woman's heels. Be honest with me. +At heart I do believe in you, Fenella. What is it you want?" + +She leaned back on the couch and laughed. It was no longer the +subtle, provoking laugh of the woman of the world. She laughed +frankly and easily, with all the lack of restraint to which her +twenty-four years entitled her. + +"My dear boy," she declared, "you have conquered. I give in. You +have seen through me. I am a fraud. I have been trying the old +tricks upon you because I am very much a woman, because I want you +to be my slave and to do the things I want you to do and live in the +world I want you to live in, and I was jealous of this companion for +whose sake you would not accept my invitation. Now I am sane again. +I see that you are not to be treated like other and more foolish +young men. My brother wants you. He wants you for a companion, he +wants you to help him in many ways. He has been used to rely upon me +in such cases. I have my orders to place you there." She pointed to +her feet. "Alas, that I have failed!" she added, laughing once +more. "But, Arnold, we shall be friends?" + +"Willingly," he answered, with an immense sense of relief. "Only +remember this. I may have wisdom enough to see the lure, but I may +not always have strength enough not to take it. I have spoken to you +in a moment of sanity, but--well, you are the most compellingly +beautiful person I ever saw, and compellingly beautiful women have +never made a habit of being kind to me, so please--" + +"Don't do it any more," she interrupted. "Is that it?" + +"As you like." + +"Now I am going to put a piece of scarlet geranium in your +buttonhole, and I am going to take you out into the garden and hand +you over to my brother, and tell him that my task is done, that you +are my slave, and that he has only to speak and you will go out into +the world with a revolver in one hand and a sword in the other, and +wear any uniform or fight in any cause he chooses. Come!" + +"You know," Arnold said, as they left the room, "I don't know any +man I admire so much as your brother, but I am almost as frightened +of him as I am of you." + +"One who talks of fear so glibly," she answered, "seldom knows +anything about it." + +"There are as many different sorts of fear as there are different +sorts of courage," he remarked. + +"How we are improving!" she murmured. "We shall begin moralizing +soon. Presently I really think we shall compare notes about the +books we have read and the theatres we have been to, and before we +are gray-headed I think one of us will allude to the weather. Now +isn't my brother a wonderful man? Look at that flush upon Miss +Lalonde's cheeks. Aren't you jealous?" + +"Miserably!" + +Sabatini rose to his feet and greeted his sister after his own +fashion, holding both her hands and kissing her on both cheeks. + +"If only," he sighed, "our family had possessed morals equal to +their looks, what a race we should have been! But, my dear +sister,--a question of taste only,--you should leave Doucet and +Paquin at home when you come to my bungalow." + +"You men never altogether understand," she replied. "Nothing +requires a little artificial aid so much as nature. It is the +piquancy of the contrast, you see. That is why the decorations of +Watteau are the most wonderful in the world. He knew how to combine +the purely, exquisitely artificial with the entirely simple. Now to +break the news to Miss Lalonde!" + +Ruth turned a smiling face towards her. + +"It is to say that our fete day is at an end," she said, looking for +her stick. + +"Fete days do not end at six o'clock in the afternoon," Fenella +replied. "I want you to be very kind and give us all a great deal of +pleasure. We want to make a little party--you and Mr. Chetwode, my +brother, myself and Mr. Weatherley--and dine under that cedar tree, +just as we are. We are going to call it supper. Then, afterwards, +you will have a ride back to London in the cool air. Either my +brother will take you, or we will send a car from here." + +"It is a charming idea," Sabatini said. "Miss Lalonde, you will not +be unkind?" + +She hesitated only for a moment. They saw her glance at her frock, +the little feminine struggle, and the woman's conquest. + +"If you really mean it," she said, "why, of course, I should love +it. It is no good my pretending that if I had known I should have +been better prepared," she continued, "because it really wouldn't +have made any difference. If you don't mind--" + +"Then it is settled!" Sabatini exclaimed. "My young friend Arnold is +now going to take me out upon the river. I trust myself without a +tremor to those shoulders." + +Arnold rose to his feet with alacrity. + +"You get into the boat-house down that path," Sabatini continued. +"There is a comfortable punt in which I think I could rest +delightfully, or, if you prefer to scull, I should be less +comfortable, but resigned." + +"It shall be the punt," Arnold decided, with a glance at the river. +"Won't any one else come with us?" + +Fenella shook her head. + +"I am going to talk to Miss Lalonde," she said. "After we have had +an opportunity of witnessing your skill, Mr. Chetwode, we may trust +ourselves another time. Au revoir!" + +They watched the punt glide down the stream, a moment or two later, +Sabatini stretched between the red cushions with a cigarette in his +mouth, Arnold handling his pole like a skilled waterman. + +"You like my brother?" Fenella asked. + +The girl looked at her gratefully. + +"I think that he is the most charming person I ever knew in my +life," she declared. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE REFUGEE'S RETURN + + +Sabatini's attitude of indolence lasted only until they had turned +from the waterway into the main river. Then he sat up and pointed a +little way down the stream. + +"Can you cross over somewhere there?" he asked. + +Arnold nodded and punted across towards the opposite bank. + +"Get in among the rushes," Sabatini directed. "Now listen to me." + +Arnold came and sat down. + +"You don't mean to tire me," he remarked. + +Sabatini smiled. + +"Do you seriously think that I asked you to bring me on the river +for the pleasure of watching your prowess with that pole, my +friend?" he asked. "Not at all. I am going to ask you to do me a +service." + +Arnold was suddenly conscious that Sabatini, for the first time +since he had known him, was in earnest. The lines of his +marble-white face seemed to have grown tenser and firmer, his manner +was the manner of a man who meets a crisis. + +"Turn your head and look inland," he said. "You follow the lane +there?" + +Arnold nodded. + +"Quite well," he admitted. + +"At the corner," Sabatini continued, "just out of sight behind that +tall hedge, is my motor car. I want you to land and make your way +there. My chauffeur has his instructions. He will take you to a +village some eight miles up the river, a village called Heslop Wood. +There is a boat-builder's yard at the end of the main street. You +will hire a boat and row up the river. About three hundred yards up, +on the left hand side, is an old, dismantled-looking house-boat. I +want you to board it and search it thoroughly." + +Sabatini paused, and Arnold looked at him, perplexed. + +"Search it!" he exclaimed. "But for whom? For what?" + +"It is my belief," Sabatini went on, "that Starling is hiding there. +If he is, I want you to bring him to me by any means which occur to +you. I had sooner he were dead, but that is too much to ask of you. +I want him brought in the motor car to that point in the lane there. +Then, if you succeed, you will bring him down here and your mission +is ended. Will you undertake it?" + +Arnold never hesitated for a moment. He was only too thankful to be +able to reply in the affirmative. He put on his coat and propelled +the punt a little further into the rushes. + +"I'll do my best," he asserted. + +Sabatini said never a word, but his silence seemed somehow eloquent. +Arnold sprang onto the bank and turned once around. + +"If he is there, I'll bring him," he promised. + +Sabatini waved his hand and Arnold sped across the meadow. He found +the motor car waiting behind the hedge, and he had scarcely stepped +in before they were off. They swung at a great speed along the +narrow lanes, through two villages, and finally came to a standstill +at the end of a long, narrow street. Arnold alighted and found the +boat-builder's yard, with rows of boats for hire, a short distance +along the front. He chose one and paddled off, glancing at his watch +as he did so. It was barely a quarter of an hour since he had left +Sabatini. + +The river at this spot was broad, but it narrowed suddenly on +rounding a bend about a hundred yards away. The house-boat was in +sight now, moored close to a tiny island. Arnold pulled up alongside +and paused to reconnoiter. To all appearance, it was a derelict. +There were no awnings, no carpets, no baskets of flowers. The +outside was grievously in need of paint. It had an entirely +uninhabited and desolate appearance. Arnold beached his boat upon +the little island and swung himself up onto the deck. There was +still no sign of any human occupancy. He descended into the saloon. +The furniture there was mildewed and musty. Rain had come in through +an open window, and the appearance of the little apartment was +depressing in the extreme. Stooping low, he next examined the four +sleeping apartments. There was no bedding in any one of them, nor +any sign of their having been recently occupied. He passed on into +the kitchen, with the same result. It seemed as though his journey +had been in vain. He made his way back again on deck, and descended +the stairs leading to the fore part of the boat. Here were a couple +of servant's rooms, and, though there was no bedding, one of the +bunks gave him the idea that some one had been lying there recently. +He looked around him and sniffed--there was a distinct smell of +tobacco smoke. He stepped lightly back into the passageway. There +was nothing to be heard, and no material indication of any one's +presence, yet he had the uncomfortable feeling that some one was +watching him--some one only a few feet away. He waited for almost a +minute. Nothing happened, yet his sense of apprehension grew deeper. +For the first time, he associated the idea of danger with his +enterprise. + +"Is any one about here?" he asked. + +There was no reply. He tried another door, which led into a sort of +pantry, without result. The last one was fastened on the inside. + +"Is Mr. Starling in there?" Arnold demanded. + +There was still no reply, yet it was certain now that the end of his +search was at hand. Distinctly he could hear the sound of a man +breathing. + +"Will you tell me if you are there, Mr. Starling?" Arnold again +demanded. "I have a message for you." + +Starling, if indeed he were there, seemed now to be even holding his +breath. Arnold took one step back and charged the door. It went +crashing in, and almost at once there was a loud report. The +closet--it was little more--was filled with smoke, and Arnold heard +distinctly the hiss of a bullet buried in the woodwork over his +shoulder. He caught the revolver from the shaking fingers of the man +who was crouching upon the ground, and slipped it into his pocket. +With his other hand, he held his prisoner powerless. + +"What the devil do you mean by that?" he cried, fiercely. + +Starling--for it was Starling--seemed to have no words. Arnold +dragged him out into the light and for a moment found it hard to +recognize the man. He had lost over a stone in weight. His cheeks +were hollow, and his eyes had the hunted look in them of some wild +animal. + +"What do you want with me?" he muttered. "Can't you see I am hiding +here? What business is it of yours to interfere?" + +Arnold looked at him from head to foot. The man was shaking all +over; the coward's fear was upon him. + +"What on earth are you in this state for?" he exclaimed. "Whom are +you hiding from? You have been set free. Is it the Rosario business +still? You have been set free once." + +Starling moistened his lips rapidly. + +"They set me free," he muttered, "because one of their witnesses +failed. They had no case; they wouldn't bring me up. But I am still +under surveillance. The sergeant as good as told me that they'd have +me before long." + +"Well, at present, I've got you," Arnold said coolly. "Have you any +luggage?" + +"No! Why?" + +"Because you are coming along with me." + +"Where?" + +"I am taking you to Count Sabatini," Arnold informed him. "He is at +his villa about ten miles down the river." + +Starling flopped upon his knees. + +"For the love of God, don't take me to him!" he begged. + +"Why not?" + +"He is a devil, that man," Starling whispered, confidentially. "He +would blow out my brains or yours or his own, without a second's +hesitation, if it suited him. He hasn't any nerves nor any fear nor +any pity. He will laugh at me--he won't understand, he is so +reckless!" + +"Well, we're going to him, anyhow," Arnold said. "I don't see how +you can be any worse off than hiding in this beastly place. Upstairs +and into the boat, please." + +Starling struggled weakly to get away but he was like a child in +Arnold's hands. + +"You had much better come quietly," the latter advised. "You'll have +to come, anyway, and if you're really afraid of being arrested +again, I should think Count Sabatini would be the best man to aid +your escape." + +"But he won't let me escape," Starling protested. "He doesn't +understand danger. I am not made like him. My nerve has gone. I came +into this too late in life." + +"Jump!" Arnold ordered, linking his arm into his companion's. + +They landed, somehow, upon the island. Arnold pointed to the boat. + +"Please be sensible," he begged, "now, at any rate. There may be +people passing at any moment." + +"I was safe in there," Starling mumbled. "Why the devil couldn't you +have left me alone?" + +Arnold bent over his oars. + +"Safe!" he repeated, contemptuously. "You were doing the one thing +which a guilty man would do. People would have known before long +that you were there, obviously hiding. I think that Count Sabatini +will propose something very much better." + +"Perhaps so," Starling muttered. "Perhaps he will help me to get +away." + +They reached the village and Arnold paid for the hire of his boat. +Then he hurried Starling into the car, and a moment or two later +they were off. + +"Is it far away?" Starling asked, nervously. + +"Ten minutes' ride. Sabatini has arranged it all very well. We get +out, cross a meadow, and find him waiting for us in the punt." + +"You won't leave me alone with him on the river?" Starling begged. + +"No, I shall be there," Arnold promised. + +"There's nothing would suit him so well," Starling continued, "as to +see me down at the bottom of the Thames, with a stone around my +neck. I tell you I'm frightened of him. If I can get out of this +mess," he went on, "I'm off back to New York. Any job there is +better than this. What are we stopping for? Say, what's wrong now?" + +"It's all right," Arnold answered. "Step out. We cross this meadow +on foot. When we reach the other end, we shall find Sabatini. Come +along." + +They turned toward the river, Starling muttering, now and then, to +himself. In a few minutes they came in sight of the punt. Sabatini +was still there, with his head reclining among the cushions. He +looked up and waved his hand. + +"A record, my young friend!" he exclaimed. "I congratulate you, +indeed. You have been gone exactly fifty-five minutes, and I gave +you an hour and a half at the least. Our friend Starling was glad to +see you, I hope?" + +"He showed his pleasure," Arnold remarked dryly, "in a most original +manner. However, here he is. Shall I take you across now?" + +"If you please," Sabatini agreed. + +He sat up and looked at Starling. The latter hung his head and shook +like a guilty schoolboy. + +"It was so foolish of you," Sabatini murmured, "but we'll talk of +that presently. They were civil to you at the police court, eh?" + +"I was never charged," Starling replied. "They couldn't get their +evidence together." + +"Still, they asked you questions, no doubt?" Sabatini continued. + +"I told them nothing," Starling replied. "On my soul and honor, I +told them nothing!" + +"It was very wise of you," Sabatini said. "It might have led to +disappointments--to trouble of many sorts. So you told them nothing, +eh? That is excellent. After we have landed, I must hand you over to +my valet. Then we will have a little talk." + +They were in the backwater now, drifting on toward the lawn. +Starling shrank back at the sight of the two women. + +"I can't face it," he muttered. "I tell you I have lost my nerve." + +"You have nothing to fear," Sabatini said quietly. "There is no one +here likely to do you or wish you any harm." + +Fenella came down to the steps to meet them. + +"So our prodigal has returned," she remarked, smiling at Starling. + +"We have rescued Mr. Starling from a solitary picnic upon his +house-boat," Sabatini explained, suavely. "We cannot have our +friends cultivating misanthropy." + +Mr. Weatherley, who had returned from the boat-builder's, half rose +from his chair and sat down again, frowning. He watched the two men +cross the lawn towards the house. Then he turned to Ruth and shook +his head. + +"I have a great regard for Count Sabatini," he declared, "a great +regard, but there are some of his friends--very many of them, in +fact--whose presence here I could dispense with. That man is one of +them. Do you know where he was a few nights ago, Miss Lalonde?" + +She shook her head. + +"In prison," Mr. Weatherley said, impressively; "arrested on a +serious charge." + +Her eyes asked him a question. He stooped towards her and lowered +his voice. + +"Murder," he whispered; "the murder of Mr. Rosario!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +TROUBLE BREWING + + +Through the winding lanes, between the tall hedges, honeysuckle +wreathed and starred with wild roses, out onto the broad main road, +Sabatini's great car sped noiselessly on its way back to London. +They seemed to pass in a few moments from the cool, perfumed air of +the country into the hot, dry atmosphere of the London suburbs. +Almost before they realized that they were on their homeward way, +the fiery glow of the city was staining the clouds above their +heads. Arnold leaned a little forward, watching, as the car raced on +to its goal. This ride through the darkness seemed to supply the +last thrill of excitement to their wonderful day. He glanced towards +Ruth, who lay back among the cushions, as though sleeping, by his +side. + +"You are tired?" + +"Yes," she answered simply. + +They were in the region now of electric cars--wonderful vehicles +ablaze with light, flashing towards them every few minutes, laden +with Sunday evening pleasure seekers. Their automobile, however, +perfectly controlled by Sabatini's Italian chauffeur, swung from one +side of the road to the other and held on its way with scarcely +abated speed. + +"You have enjoyed the day?" he asked. + +She opened her eyes and looked at him. He saw the shadows, and +wondered. + +"Of course," she whispered. + +His momentary wonder at her reticence passed. Again he was leaning a +little forward, looking up the broad thoroughfare with its double +row of lights, its interminable rows of houses growing in importance +as they rushed on. + +"It is we ourselves who pass now along the lighted way!" he +exclaimed, holding her arm for, a moment. "It is an enchanted +journey, ours, Ruth." + +She laughed bitterly. + +"An enchanted journey which leads to two very dreary attic rooms on +the sixth floor of a poverty-stricken house," she reminded him. "It +leads back to the smoke-stained city, to the four walls within which +one dreams empty dreams." + +"It isn't so bad as that," he protested. + +Her lips trembled for a moment; she half closed her eyes. An impulse +of pain passed like a spasm across her tired features. + +"It is different for you," she murmured. "Every day you escape. For +me there is no escape." + +He felt a momentary twinge of selfishness. Yet, after all, the great +truths were incontrovertible. He could lighten her lot but little. +There was very little of himself that he could give her--of his +youth, his strength, his vigorous hold upon life. Through all the +tangle of his expanding interests in existence, the medley of +strange happenings in which he found himself involved, one thing +alone was clear. He was passing on into a life making larger demands +upon, him, a life in which their companionship must naturally +become a slighter thing. Nevertheless, he spoke to her reassuringly. + +"You cannot believe, Ruth," he said, "that I shall ever forget? We +have been through too much together, too many dark days." + +She sighed. + +"There wasn't much for either of us to look forward to, was there, +when we first looked down on the river together and you began to +tell me fairy stories." + +"They kept our courage alive," he declared. "I am not sure that they +are not coming true." + +She half closed her eyes. + +"For you, Arnold," she murmured. "Not all the fancies that were ever +spun in the brain of any living person could alter life very much +for me." + +He took her hand and held it tightly. Yet it was hard to know what +to say to her. It was the inevitable tragedy, this, of their sexes +and her infirmity. He realized in those few minutes something of how +she was feeling,--the one who is left upon the lonely island while +the other is borne homeward into the sunshine and tumult of life. +There was little, indeed, which he could say. It was not the hour, +this, for protestation. + +They passed along Piccadilly, across Leicester Square, and into the +Strand. The wayfarers in the streets, of whom there were still +plenty, seemed to be lingering about in sheer joy of the cooler +night after the unexpected heat of the day, the women in light +clothes, the men with their coats thrown open and carrying their +hats. They passed down the Strand and into Adam Street, coming at +last to a standstill before the tall, gloomy house at the corner of +the Terrace. Arnold stepped out onto the pavement and helped his +companion to alight. The chauffeur lifted his hat and the car +glided away. As they stood there, for a moment, upon the pavement, +and Arnold pushed open the heavy, shabby door, it seemed, indeed, as +though the whole day might have been a dream. + +Ruth moved wearily along the broken, tesselated pavement, and paused +for a moment before the first flight of stairs. Arnold, taking her +stick from her, caught her up in his arms. Her fingers closed around +his neck and she gave a little sigh of relief. + +"Will you really carry me up all the way, Arnie?" she whispered. "I +am so tired to-night. You are sure that you can manage it?" + +He laughed gayly. + +"I have done it many times before," he reminded her. "To-night I +feel as strong as a dozen men." + +One by one they climbed the flight of stone steps. Curiously enough, +notwithstanding the strength of which he had justly boasted, as they +neared the top of the house he felt his breath coming short and his +heart beating faster, as though some unusual strain were upon him. +She had tightened her grasp upon his neck. She seemed, somehow, to +have come closer to him, yet to hang like a dead weight in his arms. +Her cheek was touching his. Once, toward the end, he looked into her +face, and the fire of her eyes startled him. + +"You are not really tired," he muttered. + +"I am resting like this," she whispered. + +He stood at last upon the top landing. He set her down with a little +thrill, assailed by a medley of sensations, the significance of +which confused him. She seemed still to cling to him, and she +pointed to his door. + +"For five minutes," she begged, "let us sit in our chairs and look +down at the river. To-night it is too hot to sleep." + +Even while he opened his door, he hesitated. + +"What about Isaac?" he asked. + +She shivered and looked over her shoulder. They were in his room now +and she closed the door. On the threshold she stood quite still for +a moment, as though listening. There was something in her face which +alarmed him. + +"Do you know, I believe that I am afraid to go back," she said. +"Isaac has been stranger than ever these last few days. All the time +he is locked up in his room, and he shows himself only at night." + +Arnold dragged her chair up to the window and installed her +comfortably. He himself was thinking of Isaac's face under the +gaslight, as he had seen him stepping away from the taxicab. + +"Isaac was always queer," he reminded her, reassuringly. + +She drew him down to her side. + +"There has been a difference these last few days," she whispered. "I +am afraid--I am terribly afraid that he has done something really +wrong." + +Arnold felt a little shiver of fear himself. + +"You must remember," he said quietly, "that after all Isaac is, in a +measure, outside your life. No one can influence him for either good +or evil. He is not like other men. He must go his own way, and I, +too, am afraid that it may be a troublous one. He chose it for +himself and neither you nor I can help. I wouldn't think about him +at all, dear, if you can avoid it. And for yourself, remember always +that you have another protector." + +The faintest of smiles parted her lips. In the moonlight, which was +already stealing into the room through the bare, uncurtained window, +her face seemed like a piece of beautiful marble statuary, ghostly, +yet in a single moment exquisitely human. + +"I have no claim upon you, Arnold," she reminded him, "and I think +that soon you will pass out of my life. It is only natural. You must +go on, I must remain. And that is the end of it," she added, with a +little quiver of the lips. "Now let us finish talking about +ourselves. I want to talk about your new friends." + +"Tell me what you really think of them?" he begged. "Count Sabatini +has been so kind to me that if I try to think about him at all I am +already prejudiced." + +"I think," she replied slowly, "that Count Sabatini is the strangest +man whom I ever met. Do you remember when he stood and looked down +upon us? I felt--but it was so foolish!" + +"You felt what?" he persisted. + +She shook her head. + +"I cannot tell. As though we were not strangers at all. I suppose it +is what they call mesmerism. He had that soft, delightful way of +speaking, and gentle mannerism. There was nothing abrupt or new +about him. He seemed, somehow, to become part of the life of any one +in whom he chose to interest himself in the slightest. And he talked +so delightfully, Arnold. I cannot tell you how kind he was to me." + +Arnold laughed. + +"It's a clear case of hero worship," he declared. "You're going to +be as bad as I have been." + +"And yet," she said slowly, "it is his sister of whom I think all +the time. Fenella she calls herself, doesn't she?" + +"You like her, too?" Arnold asked eagerly. + +"I hate her," was the low, fierce reply. + +Arnold drew a little away. + +"You can't mean it!" he exclaimed. "You can't really mean that you +don't like her!" + +Ruth clutched at his arm as though jealous of his instinctive +disappointment. + +"I know that it's brutally ungracious," she declared. "It's a sort +of madness, even. But I hate her because she is the most beautiful +thing I have ever seen here in life. I hate her for that, and I hate +her for her strength. Did you see her come across the lawn to us +to-night, Arnold?" + +He nodded enthusiastically. + +"You mean in that smoke-colored muslin dress?" + +"She has no right to wear clothes like that!" Ruth cried. "She does +it so that men may see how beautiful she is. I--well, I hate her!" + +There was a silence. Then Ruth rose slowly to her feet. Her tone was +suddenly altered, her eyes pleaded with his. + +"Don't take any notice of me to-night, Arnold," she implored. "It +has been such a wonderful day, and I am not used to so much +excitement. I am afraid that I am a little hysterical. Do be kind +and help me across to my room." + +"Is there any hurry?" he asked. "It hasn't struck twelve yet." + +"I want to go, please," she begged. "I shall say foolish things if I +stay here much longer, and I don't want to. Let me go." + +He obeyed her without further question. Once more he supported her +with his arms, but she kept her face turned away. When he had +reached her door he would have left her, but she still clutched his +arm. + +"I am foolish," she whispered, "foolish and wicked to-night. And +besides, I am afraid. It is all because I am overtired. Come in with +me for one moment, please, and let me be sure that Isaac is all +right. Feel how I am trembling." + +"Of course I will come," he answered. "Isaac can't be angry with me +to-night, anyhow, for my clothes are old and dusty enough." + +He opened the door and they passed across the threshold. Then they +both stopped short and Ruth gave a little start. The room was lit +with several candles. There was no sign of Isaac, but a middle-aged +man, with black beard and moustache, had risen to his feet at their +entrance. He glanced at Ruth with keen interest, at Arnold with a +momentary curiosity. + +"What are you doing here?" Ruth demanded. "What right have you in +this room?" + +The man did not answer her question. + +"I shall be glad," he said, "if you will come in and shut the door. +If you are Miss Ruth Lalonde, I have a few questions to ask you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +ISAAC AT BAY + + +Arnold had a swift premonition of what had happened. He led Ruth to +a chair and stood by her side. Ruth gazed around the room in +bewilderment. The curtained screen which divided it had been torn +down, and the door of the inner apartment, which Isaac kept so +zealously locked, stood open. Not only that, but the figure of a +second man was dimly seen moving about inside, and, from the light +shining out, it was obviously in some way illuminated. + +"I don't understand who you are or what you are doing here," Ruth +declared, trembling in every limb. + +"My name is Inspector Grant," the man replied. "My business is with +Isaac Lalonde, who I understand is your uncle." + +"What do you want with him?" she asked. + +The inspector made no direct reply. + +"There are a few questions," he said, "which it is my duty to put to +you." + +"Questions?" she repeated. + +"Do you know where your uncle is?" + +Ruth shook her head. + +"I left him here this morning," she replied. "He has not been out +for several days. I expected to find him here when I returned." + +"We have been here since four o'clock," the man said. "There was no +one here when we arrived, nor has any one been since. Your uncle has +no regular hours, I suppose?" + +"He is very uncertain," Ruth answered. "He does newspaper reporting, +and he sometimes has to work late." + +"Can you tell me what newspaper he is engaged upon?" + +"The _Signal_, for one," Ruth replied. + +Inspector Grant was silent for a moment. + +"The _Signal_ newspaper offices were seized by the police some days +ago," he remarked. "Do you know of any other journal on which your +uncle worked?" + +She shook her head. + +"He tells me very little of his affairs," she faltered. + +The inspector pointed backwards into the further corner of the +apartment. + +"Do you often go into his room there?" he asked. + +"I have not been for months," Ruth assured him. "My uncle keeps it +locked up. He told me that there had been some trouble at the office +and he was printing something there." + +The inspector rose slowly to his feet. On the table by his side was +a pile of articles covered over with a tablecloth. Very deliberately +he removed the latter and looked keenly at Ruth. She shrank back +with a little scream. There were half a dozen murderous-looking +pistols there, a Mannerlicher rifle, and a quantity of ammunition. + +"What does your uncle need with these?" the inspector asked dryly. + +"How can I tell?" Ruth replied. "I have never seen one of them +before. I never knew that they were in the place." + +"Nor I," Arnold echoed. "I have been a constant visitor here, too, +and I have never seen firearms of any sort before." + +The inspector turned towards him. + +"Are you a friend of Isaac Lalonde?" he asked. + +"I am not," Arnold answered. "I am a friend of his niece here, Miss +Ruth Lalonde. I know very little of Isaac, although I see him here +sometimes." + +"I should like to know your name, if you have no objection," the +inspector remarked. + +"My name is Chetwode," Arnold told him. "I occupy a room on the +other side of the passage." + +"When did you last see Isaac Lalonde?" + +Arnold did not hesitate for a moment. What he had seen at Hampstead +belonged to himself. He deliberately wiped out the memory of it from +his thoughts. + +"On Thursday evening here." + +The inspector made a note in his pocket-book. Then he turned again +to Ruth. + +"You can give me no explanation, then, as to your uncle's absence +to-night?" + +"None at all. I can only say what I told you before--that I expected +to find him here on my return." + +"Was he here when you left this morning?" + +"I believe so," Ruth assured him. "He very seldom comes out of his +room until the middle of the day, and he does not like my going to +him there. As we started very early, I did not disturb him." + +"Have you any objection," the inspector asked, "to telling me where +you have spent the whole of to-day?" + +"Not the slightest," Arnold interposed. "We have been to Bourne End, +and to a village in the neighborhood." + +The inspector nodded thoughtfully. Ruth leaned a little forward in +her chair. Her voice trembled with anxiety. + +"Please tell me," she begged, "what is the charge against my uncle?" + +The inspector glanced over his shoulder at that inner room, from +which fitful gleams of light still came. He looked down at the heap +of pistols and ammunition by his side. + +"The charge," he said slowly, "is of a somewhat serious nature." + +Ruth was twisting up her glove in her hand. + +"I do not believe," she declared, "that Isaac has ever done anything +really wrong. He is a terrible socialist, and he is always railing +at the rich, but I do not believe that he would hurt any one." + +The inspector looked grimly at the little pile of firearms. + +"A pretty sort of armory, this," he remarked, "for a peace-loving +man. What do you suppose he keeps them here for, in his room? What +do you suppose--" + +They all three heard it at the same time. The inspector broke off in +the middle of his sentence. Ruth, shrinking in her chair, turned her +head fearfully towards the door, which still stood half open. Arnold +was looking breathlessly in the same direction. Faintly, but very +distinctly, they heard the patter of footsteps climbing the stone +stairs. It sounded as though a man were walking upon tiptoe, yet +dragging his feet wearily. The inspector held up his hand, and his +subordinate, who had been searching the inner room, came stealthily +out. Ruth, obeying her first impulse, opened her lips to shriek. The +inspector leaned forward and his hand suddenly closed over her +mouth. He looked towards Arnold, who was suffering from a moment's +indecision. + +"If you utter a sound," he whispered, "you will be answerable to the +law." + +Nobody spoke or moved. It was an odd little tableau, grouped +together in the dimly lit room. The footsteps had reached the last +flight of stairs now. They came slowly across the landing, then +paused, as though the person who approached could see the light +shining through the partly open door. They heard a voice, a voice +almost unrecognizable, a voice hoarse and tremulous with fear, the +voice of a hunted man. + +"Are you there, Ruth?" + +Ruth struggled to reply, but ineffectually. Slowly, and as though +with some foreboding of danger, the footsteps came nearer and +nearer. An unseen hand cautiously pushed the door open. Isaac stood +upon the threshold, peering anxiously into the room. The inspector +turned and faced him. + +"Isaac Lalonde," he said, "I have a warrant for your arrest. I shall +want you to come with me to Bow Street." + +With the certainty of danger, Isaac's fear seemed to vanish into +thin air. He saw the open door of his ransacked inner room and the +piled-up heap of weapons upon the table. Face to face with actual +danger, the, courage of a wild animal at bay seemed suddenly +vouchsafed to him. + +"Come with you to Hell!" he cried. "I think not, Mr. Inspector. Are +these the witnesses against me?" + +He pointed to Ruth and Arnold. Ruth clutched her stick and staggered +tremblingly to her feet. + +"How can you say that, Isaac!" she exclaimed. "Arnold and I have +only been home from the country a few minutes. We walked into the +room and found these men here. Isaac, I am terrified. Tell me that +you have not done anything really wrong!" + +Isaac made no reply. All the time he watched the inspector +stealthily. The latter moved forward now, as though to make the +arrest. Then Isaac's hand shot out from his pocket and a long stream +of yellow fire flashed through the room. The inspector sprang back. +Isaac's hand, with the smoke still curling from the muzzle of his +pistol, remained extended. + +"That was only a warning," Isaac declared, calmly. "I aimed at the +wall there. Next time it may be different." + +There was a breathless silence. The inspector stood his ground but +he did not advance. + +"Let me caution you, Isaac Lalonde," he said, "that the use of +firearms by any one in your position is fatal. You can shoot me, if +you like, and my assistant, but if you do you will certainly be +hanged. It is my duty to arrest you and I am going to do it." + +Isaac's hand was still extended. This time he had lowered the muzzle +of his pistol. The inspector was only human and he paused, for he +was looking straight into the mouth of it. Isaac slowly backed +toward the door. + +"Remember, you are warned!" he cried. "If any one pursues me, I +shoot!" + +His departure was so sudden and so speedy that he was down the +first flight of stairs before the inspector started. Arnold, who was +nearest the door, made a movement as though to follow, but Ruth +threw her arms around him. The policeman who had been examining the +other room rushed past them both. + +"You shall not go!" Ruth sobbed. "It is no affair of yours. It is +between the police and Isaac." + +"I want to stop his shooting," Arnold replied. "He must be mad to +use firearms against the police. Let me go, Ruth." + +"You can't!" she shrieked. "You can't catch him now!" + +Then she suddenly held her ears. Three times quickly they heard the +report of the pistol. There was a moment's silence, then more shots. +Arnold picked Ruth up in his arms and, running with her across the +landing, laid her in his own easy-chair. + +"I must see what has happened!" he exclaimed, breathlessly. "Wait +here." + +She was powerless to resist him. He tore himself free from the +clutch of her fingers and rushed down the stairs, expecting every +moment to come across the body of one of the policemen. To his +immense relief, he reached the street without discovering any signs +of the tragedy he feared. Adam Street was deserted, but in the +gardens below the Terrace he could hear the sound of voices, and a +torn piece of clothing hung from the spike of one of the railings. +Isaac had evidently made for the gardens and the river. The sound of +the chase grew fainter and fainter, and there were no more shots. +Arnold, after a few minutes' hesitation, turned round and reclimbed +the stairs. The place smelt of gunpowder, and little puffs of smoke +were curling upwards. + +Arrived on the top landing, he closed the door of Isaac's room and +entered his own apartment. Ruth had dragged herself to the window +and was leaning out. + +"He has gone across the gardens," she cried breathlessly. "I saw him +running. Perhaps he will get away, after all. I saw one of the +policemen fall down, and he was quite a long way ahead then." + +"At any rate, no harm was done by the firing," Arnold declared. "I +don't think he really shot at them at all." + +They knelt side by side before the window-sill. The gardens were +still faintly visible in the dim moonlight, but all signs of +disturbance had passed away. She clung nervously to his arm. + +"Arnold," she whispered, "tell me, what do you think he has done?" + +"I don't suppose he has done anything very much," Arnold replied, +cheerfully. "What I really think is that he has got mixed up with +some of these anarchists, writing for this wretched paper, and they +have probably let him in for some of their troubles." + +They stayed there for a measure of time they were neither of them +able to compute. At last, with a little sigh, he rose to his feet. +For the first time they began to realize what had happened. + +"Isaac will not come back," he said. + +She clung to him hysterically. + +"Arnold," she cried, "I am nervous. I could not sleep in that room. +I never want to see it again as long as I live." + +For a moment he was perplexed. Then he smiled. "It's rather an +awkward situation for us attic dwellers," he remarked. "I'll bring +your couch in here, if you like, and you can lie before the window, +where it's cool." + +"You don't mind?" she begged. "I couldn't even think of going to +sleep. I should sit up all night, anyhow." + +"Not a bit," he assured her. "I don't think it would be much use +thinking about bed." + +He made his way back into Isaac's apartments, brought out her couch +and arranged it by the window. She lay down with a little sigh of +relief. Then he dragged up his own easy chair to her side and held +her hand. They heard Big Ben strike two o'clock, and soon afterwards +Arnold began to doze. When he awoke, with a sudden start, her hand +was still in his. Eastward, over the city, a faint red glow hung in +the heavens. The world was still silent, but in the delicate, pearly +twilight the trees in the gardens, the bridge, and the buildings in +the distance--everything seemed to stand out with a peculiar and +unfamiliar distinctness. She, too, was sitting up, and they looked +out of the window together. Five o'clock was striking now. + +"I've been asleep!" Arnold exclaimed. "Something woke me up." + +She nodded. + +"There is some one knocking at the door outside," she whispered. +"That is what woke you. I heard it several minutes ago." + +He jumped up at once. + +"I will go and see what it is," he declared. + +He opened the door and looked out onto the landing. The knocking +was at the door of Isaac's apartment. Two policemen and a man in +plain clothes were standing there. + +"There is no one in those rooms," Arnold said. "The door shuts with +a spring lock, but I have a key here, if you wish to enter." + +The sergeant looked at Arnold and approved of him. + +"I have an order to remove some firearms and other articles," he +announced. "Also, can you tell me where the young woman--Ruth +Lalonde--is?" + +"She is in my room," Arnold replied. "She was too terrified to +remain alone over there. You don't want her, do you?" he asked, +anxiously. + +The man shook his head. + +"I have no definite instructions concerning her," he said, "but we +should like to know that she has no intention of going away." + +Arnold threw open the door before them. + +"I am sure that she has not," he declared. "She is quite an invalid, +and besides, she has nowhere else to go." + +The sergeant gave a few orders respecting the movement of a pile of +articles covered over by a tablecloth, which had been dragged out of +Isaac's room. Before he had finished, Arnold ventured upon the +question which had been all the time trembling upon his lips. + +"This man Isaac Lalonde--was he arrested?" + +The sergeant made no immediate reply. + +"Tell me, at least, was any one hurt?" Arnold begged. + +"No one was shot, if you mean that," the sergeant admitted. + +"Is Isaac in custody?" + +"He very likely is by this time," the sergeant said. "As a matter of +fact, he got away. A friend of yours, is he?" + +"Certainly not," Arnold answered. "I have an attic on the other side +of the landing there, and I have made friends with the girl. My +interest in Isaac Lalonde is simply because she is his niece. Can +you tell me what the charge is against him?" + +"We believe him to be one of a very dangerous gang of criminals," +the sergeant replied. "I can't tell you more than that. If you take +my advice, sir," he continued, civilly, "you will have as little as +possible to do with either the man or the girl. There's no doubt +about the man's character, and birds of a feather generally flock +together." + +"I am perfectly certain," Arnold declared, vigorously, "that if +there has been anything irregular in her uncle's life, Miss Lalonde +knew nothing of it. We both knew that he talked wildly, but, for the +rest, his doings have been as much a mystery to her as to me." + +The sergeant was summoned by one of his subordinates. The two men +stood whispering together for a few moments. He turned finally +toward Arnold. + +"I shall have to ask you to leave us now, sir," he said civilly. + +"There's nothing more you can tell me about this affair, I suppose?" +Arnold asked. + +The sergeant shook his head. + +"You will hear all about it later on, sir." + +Arnold turned reluctantly back to his own room, where Ruth, was +anxiously waiting. He closed the door carefully behind him. + +"Isaac has escaped," he announced, "and no one was hurt." + +She drew a little sigh of immense relief. + +"Did they tell you what the charge was?" + +"Not definitely," he replied. "So far as I could make out from what +the sergeant said, it was keeping bad company as much as anything." + +"The police are in the rooms now?" she asked. + +"Three more of them," he assented. "I don't know what they want but +evidently you'll have to stay here. Now I'm going to light this +spirit-lamp and make some coffee." + +He moved cheerfully about the room, and she watched him all the time +with almost pathetic earnestness. Presently he brought the breakfast +things over to her side and sat at the foot of her couch while the +water boiled. He took her hand and held it caressingly. + +"I shouldn't worry about Isaac," he said. "I don't suppose he is +really very much mixed up with these fellows. He'll have to keep out +of the way for a time, that's all." + +"There were the pistols," she faltered, doubtfully. + +"I expect they saddled him with them because he was the least likely +to be suspected," Arnold suggested. "There's the water boiling +already. Now for it." + +He cut some bread and butter and made the coffee. They ate and drank +almost in silence. Through the open window now the roar of traffic +was growing every minute in volume. Across the bridge the daily +stream of men and vehicles had commenced to flow. Presently he +glanced at the clock and, putting down his coffee cup, rose to his +feet. + +"In a few minutes, dear, I must be off," he announced. "You won't +mind being left, will you?" + +Her lips trembled. + +"Why should I?" she murmured. "Of course you must go to work." + +He went behind his little screen, where he plunged his head into a +basin of cold water. When he reappeared, a few minutes later, he was +ready to start. + +"I expect those fellows will have cleared out from your rooms by +now," he said, throwing open the door. "Hullo, what's this?" + +A trunk and hatbox had been dragged out onto the landing. A +policeman was sitting on a chair in front of the closed door, +reading a newspaper. + +"We have collected the young lady's belongings, so far as possible, +sir," he remarked. "If there is anything else belonging to her, she +may be able to get it later on." + +"Do you mean to say that she can't go back to her own rooms?" Arnold +demanded. + +"I am sorry, sir," the man replied, "but I am here to see that no +one enters them under any pretext." + +Arnold looked at him blankly. + +"But what is the young lady to do?" he protested. "She has no other +home." + +The policeman remained unmoved. + +"Sorry, sir," he said, "but her friends will have to find her one +for the time being. She certainly can't come in here." + +Arnold felt a sudden weight upon his arm. Ruth had been standing by +his side and had heard everything. He led her gently back. She was +trembling violently. + +"Don't worry about me, Arnold," she begged. "You go away. By the +time you come back, I--I shall have found a home somewhere." + +He passed his arm around her. A wild flash in her eyes had suddenly +revealed her thought. + +"Unless you promise me," he said firmly, "that I shall find you on +that couch when I return this evening, I shall not leave this room." + +"But, Arnold,--" + +"The business of Samuel Weatherley & Company," he interrupted, +glancing at the clock, "will be entirely disorganized unless you +promise." + +"I promise," she murmured faintly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +MR. WEATHERLEY'S DISAPPEARANCE + + +Arnold arrived at Tooley Street only a few minutes after his usual +time. He made his way at once into the private office and commenced +his work. At ten o'clock Mr. Jarvis came in. The pile of letters +upon Mr. Weatherley's desk was as yet untouched. + +"Any idea where the governor is?" the cashier asked. "He's nearly +half an hour late." + +Arnold glanced at the clock. + +"Mr. Weatherley is spending the week-end down the river," he said. +"I dare say the trains up are a little awkward." + +Mr. Jarvis looked at him curiously. + +"How do you happen to know that?" + +"I was there yesterday for a short time," Arnold told him. + +Mr. Jarvis whistled softly. + +"Seems to me you're getting pretty chummy with the governor," he +remarked; "or is it Mrs. Weatherley, eh?" + +Arnold lifted his head and looked fixedly at Mr. Jarvis. The latter +suddenly remembered that he had come in to search among the letters +for some invoices. He busied himself for a moment or two, sorting +them out. + +"Well, well," he said, "I hope the governor will soon be here, +anyway. There are a lot of things I want to ask him about this +morning." + +A telephone bell at Arnold's desk began to ring. Arnold lifted the +receiver to his ear. + +"Is that Mr. Weatherley's office?" a familiar voice inquired. + +"Good morning, Mrs. Weatherley," he replied. "This is the office, +and I am Arnold Chetwode. We were just wondering what had become of +Mr. Weatherley." + +"What had become of him?" the voice repeated. "But is he not there?" + +"No sign of him at present," Arnold answered. + +There was a short silence. Then Mrs. Weatherley spoke again. + +"He left here," she said, "absurdly early--soon after seven, I think +it was--to motor up." + +"Has the car returned?" Arnold asked. + +"More than an hour ago," was the prompt reply. + +"I can assure you that he has not been here," Arnold declared. +"You're speaking from Bourne End, I suppose?" + +"Yes!" + +"Will you please ask the chauffeur," Arnold suggested, "where he +left Mr. Weatherley?" + +"Of course I will," she replied. "That is very sensible. You must +hold the line until I come back." + +Arnold withdrew the receiver for a few minutes from his ear. Mr. +Jarvis had been listening to the conversation, his mouth open with +curiosity. + +"Is that about the governor?" he asked. + +Arnold nodded. + +"It was Mrs. Weatherley speaking," he said. "It seems Mr. Weatherley +left Bourne End soon after seven o'clock this morning." + +"Soon after seven o'clock?" Mr. Jarvis repeated. + +"The car has been back there quite a long time," Arnold continued. +"Mrs. Weatherley has gone to make inquiries of the chauffeur." + +"Most extraordinary thing," Mr. Jarvis muttered. "I can't say that +I've ever known the governor as late as this, unless he was ill." + +Arnold put the receiver once more to his ear. In a moment or two +Mrs. Weatherley returned. Her voice was a little graver. + +"I have spoken to the chauffeur," she announced. "He says that they +called first up in Hampstead to see if there were any letters, and +that afterwards he drove Mr. Weatherley over London Bridge and put +him down at the usual spot, just opposite to the London & +Westminster Bank. For some reason or other, as I dare say you know," +she went on, "Mr. Weatherley never likes to bring the car into +Tooley Street. It was ten minutes past nine when he set him down and +left him there." + +Arnold glanced at the clock. + +"It is now," he said, "a quarter to eleven. The spot you speak of is +only two hundred yards away, but I can assure you that Mr. +Weatherley has not yet arrived." + +Mrs. Weatherley began to laugh softly. Even down the wires, that +laugh seemed to bring with it some flavor of her own wonderful +personality. + +"Will there be a paragraph in the evening papers?" she asked, +mockingly. "I think I can see it now upon all the placards: +'Mysterious disappearance of a city merchant.' Poor Samuel!" + +Arnold found it quite impossible to answer her lightly. The fingers, +indeed, which held the receiver to his ear, were shaking a little. + +"Mrs. Weatherley," he said, "can I see you to-day--as soon as +possible?" + +"Why, of course you can, you silly boy," she laughed back. "I am +here all alone and I weary myself. Come by the next train or take a +taxicab. You can leave word for Mr, Weatherley, when he arrives, +that you have come by my special wish. He will not mind then." + +"There is no sign of Mr. Weatherley at present," Arnold replied, +"and I could not leave here until I had seen him. I thought that +perhaps you might be coming up to town for something." + +He could almost hear her yawn. + +"Really," she declared, after a slight pause, "it is not a bad idea. +The sun will not shine to-day; there is a gray mist everywhere and +it depresses me. You will lunch with me if I come up?" + +"If you please." + +"I do please," she declared. "I think we will go to our own little +place--the Cafe Andre, and I will be there at half-past twelve. You +will be waiting for me?" + +"Without a doubt," Arnold promised. + +She began to laugh again. + +"Without a doubt!" she mocked him. "You are a very stolid young man, +Arnold." + +"To tell you the truth," he admitted, "I am a little bothered just +now. We want Mr. Weatherley badly, and I don't understand his +having been within a few hundred yards of the office nearly two +hours ago and not having turned up here." + +"He will arrive," she replied confidently. "Have no fear of that. +There are others to whom accidents and adventures might happen, but +not, I think, to Mr. Samuel Weatherley. I am sorry that you are +bothered, though, Mr. Chetwode. I think that to console you I shall +wear one of my two new muslin gowns which have just arrived from +Paris." + +"What is she talking about all this time?" Mr. Jarvis, who was +itching with curiosity, broke in. + +"I am called away now," Arnold declared down the telephone. "I shall +be quite punctual. Good-bye!" + +He heard her laugh again as he hung up the receiver. + +"Well, well," Mr. Jarvis demanded, "what is it all about? Have you +heard anything?" + +"Nothing of any importance, I am afraid," Arnold admitted. "Mrs. +Weatherley laughs at the idea of anything having happened to her +husband." + +"If nothing has happened to him," Mr. Jarvis protested, "where is +he?" + +"Is there any call he could have paid on the way?" Arnold suggested. + +"I have never known him to do such a thing in his life," Mr. Jarvis +replied. "Besides, there is no business call which could take two +hours at this time of the morning." + +They rang up the few business friends whom Mr. Weatherley had in the +vicinity, Guy's Hospital, the bank, and the police station. The +reply was the same in all cases. Nobody had seen or heard anything +of Mr. Weatherley. Arnold even took down his hat and walked +aimlessly up the street to the spot where Mr. Weatherley had left +the motor car. The policeman on duty had heard nothing of any +accident. The shoe-black, at the top of the steps leading down to +the wharves, remembered distinctly Mr. Weatherley's alighting at the +usual hour. Arnold returned to the office and sat down facing the +little safe which Mr. Weatherley had made over to him. After all, it +might be true, then, this thing which he had sometimes dimly +suspected. Beneath his very commonplace exterior, Mr. Weatherley had +carried with him a secret.... + +At half-past twelve precisely, Arnold stood upon the threshold of +the passage leading into Andre's Cafe. Already the people were +beginning to crowd into the lower room, a curious, cosmopolitan +mixture, mostly foreigners, and nearly all arriving in twos and +threes from the neighboring business houses. At twenty minutes to +one, Mr. Weatherley's beautiful car turned slowly into the narrow +street and drove up to the entrance. Arnold hurried forward to open +the door and Fenella descended. She came to him with radiant face, a +wonderful vision in her spotless white gown and French hat with its +drooping veil. Arnold, notwithstanding his anxieties, found it +impossible not to be carried away for the moment by a wave of +admiration. She laughed with pleasure as she looked into his eyes. + +"There!" she exclaimed. "I told you that for a moment I would make +you forget everything." + +"There is a good deal to forget, too," he answered. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"You are always so gloomy, my young friend," she said. "We will have +luncheon together, you and I, and I will try and teach you how to be +gay. Tell me, then," she went on, as they reached the landing and +she waited for Arnold to open the door leading into the private +room, "how is the little invalid girl this morning?" + +"The little invalid girl is well," Arnold replied. + +"She was not too tired yesterday, I hope?" Fenella asked. + +"Not in the least," Arnold assured her. "We both of us felt that we +did not thank you half enough for our wonderful day." + +"Oh, la, la!" Fenella exclaimed. "It was a whim of mine, that is +all. I liked having you both there. Some day you must come again, +and, if you are very good, I may let you bring the young lady, +though I'm not so sure of that. Do you know that my brother was +asking me questions about her until I thought my head would swim +last night?" she continued, curiously. + +"Count Sabatini was very kind to her," Arnold remarked. "Poor little +girl, I am afraid she is going to have rather a rough time. She had +quite an alarming experience last night after our return." + +"You must tell me all about it presently," Fenella declared. "Shall +we take this little round table near the window? It will be +delightful, that, for when we are tired with one another we can +watch the people in the street. Have you ever sat and watched the +people in the street, Arnold?" + +"Not often," he answered, giving his hat to a waiter and following +her across the little room. "You see, there are not many people to +watch from the windows of where I live, but there is always the +river." + +"A terribly dreary place," Fenella declared. + +Arnold shook his head. + +"Don't believe it," he replied. "Only a short time ago, the days +were very dark indeed. Ruth and I together did little else except +watch the barges come up, and the slowly moving vessels, and the +lights, and the swarms of people on Blackfriars Bridge. Life was all +watching then." + +"One would weary soon," she murmured, "of being a spectator. You are +scarcely that now." + +"There has been a great change," he answered simply. "In those days +I was very near starvation. I had no idea how I was going to find +work. Yet even then I found myself longing for adventures of any +sort,--anything to quicken the blood, to feel the earth swell +beneath my feet." + +She was watching him with that curious look in her eyes which he +never wholly understood--half mocking, half tender. + +"And after all," she murmured, "you found your way to Tooley Street +and the office of Mr. Samuel Weatherley." + +She threw herself back in her chair and laughed so irresistibly that +Arnold, in a moment or two, found himself sharing her merriment. + +"It is all very well," he said presently, "but I am not at all sure +that adventures do not sometimes come even to Tooley Street." + +She shook her head. + +"I shall never believe it. Tell me now about Mr. Weatherley? Was he +very sorry when he arrived for having caused you so much anxiety?" + +"I have not yet seen Mr. Weatherley," Arnold replied. "Up till the +time when I left the office, he had not arrived." + +She set down the glass which she had been in the act of raising to +her lips. For the first time she seemed to take this matter +seriously. + +"What time was that?" she asked. + +"Ten minutes past twelve." + +She frowned. + +"It certainly does begin to look a little queer," she admitted. "Do +you think that he has met with an accident?" + +"We have already tried the hospitals and the police station," he +told her. + +She looked at him steadfastly. + +"You have an idea--you have some idea of what has happened," she +said. + +"Nothing definite," Arnold replied, gravely. "I cannot imagine what +it all means, but I believe that Mr. Weatherley has disappeared." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +ARNOLD BECOMES INQUISITIVE + + +For several moments Fenella sat quite still. She was suddenly an +altered woman. All the natural gayety and vivacity seemed to have +faded from her features. There were suggestions of another self, +zealously kept concealed. It was a curious revelation. Even her +tone, when she spoke, was altered. The words seemed to be dragged +from her lips. + +"You have some reason for saying this," she murmured. + +"I have," Arnold admitted. + +Just then the waiter entered the room, bringing in a portion of the +lunch which they had ordered. Fenella rose and walked to a mirror +at the other end of the apartment. She stood there powdering her +cheeks for a moment, with her back turned to Arnold. When the +waiter had gone, she returned, humming a tune. Her effort at +self-rehabilitation was obvious. + +"You gave me a shock, my friend," she declared, sitting down. +"Please do not do it again. I am not accustomed to having things put +to me quite so plainly." + +"I am sorry," Arnold said. "It was hideously clumsy of me." + +"It is of no consequence now," she continued. "Please to give me +some of that red wine and go on with your story. Tell me exactly +what you mean!" + +"It is simply this," Arnold explained. "A few days ago, I noticed +that Mr. Weatherley was busy writing for several hours. It was +evidently some private matter and nothing whatever to do with the +business. When he had finished, he put some documents into a small +safe, locked them up, and, very much to my surprise, gave me the +key." + +"This was long ago?" + +"It was almost immediately after Mr. Rosario's murder," he replied. +"When he gave me the key, he told me that if anything unexpected +should happen to him, I was to open the safe and inspect the +documents. He particularly used the words 'If anything unexpected +should happen to me, or if I should disappear.'" + +"You really believe, then," she asked, "that he had some idea in his +mind that something was likely to happen to him, or that he intended +to disappear?" + +"His action proves it," Arnold reminded her. "So far as we know, +there is no earthly reason for his not having turned up at the +office this morning. This afternoon I shall open the safe." + +"You mean that you will open it if you do not find him in the office +when you return?" + +"He will not be there," Arnold said, decidedly. + +Her eyes were filled with fear. He went on hastily. + +"Perhaps I ought not to say that. I have nothing in the world to go +on. It is only just an idea of mine. It isn't that I am afraid +anything has happened to him, but I feel convinced, somehow, that we +shall not hear anything more of Mr. Weatherley for some time." + +"You will open the safe, then, this afternoon?" + +"I must," Arnold replied. + +For several minutes neither of them spoke a word. Fenella made a +pretense at eating her luncheon. Arnold ate mechanically, his +thoughts striving in vain to focus themselves upon the immediate +question. It was she who ended the silence. + +"What do you think you will find in those documents?" + +"I have no idea," Arnold answered. "To tell you the truth," he went +on earnestly, "I was going to ask you whether you knew of anything +in his life or affairs which could explain this?" + +"I am not sure that I understand you," she said. + +"It seems a strange question," Arnold continued, "and yet it +presents itself. I was going to ask you whether you knew of any +reason whatsoever why Mr. Weatherley should voluntarily choose to go +into hiding?" + +"You have something in your mind when you ask me a question like +this!" she said. "What should I know about it at all? What makes you +ask me?" + +Then Arnold took his courage into both hands. Her eyes seemed to be +compelling him. + +"What I am going to say," he began, "may sound very foolish to you. +I cannot help it. I only hope that you will not be angry with me." + +Her eyes met his steadily. + +"No," she murmured, "I will not be angry--I promise you that. It is +better that I should know exactly what is in your mind. At present I +do not understand." + +His manner acquired a new earnestness. He forgot his luncheon and +leaned across the table towards her. + +"Fenella," he said, "try and consider how these things of which I am +going to speak must have presented themselves to me. Try, if you +can, and put yourself in my position for a few minutes. Before that +evening on which Mr. Weatherley asked me to come to your house, +nothing in the shape of an adventure had ever happened to me. I had +had my troubles, but they were ordinary ones, such as the whole +world knows of. From the day when I went to school to the day when I +had to leave college hurriedly, lost my father, and came up to +London a pauper, life with me was entirely an obvious affair. From +the night I crossed the threshold of your house, things were +different." + +There was a cloud upon her face. She began to drum with her slim +forefingers upon the tablecloth. + +"I think that I would rather you did not go on," she said. + +He shook his head. + +"I must," he declared, fervently. "These things have been in my mind +too long. It is not well for our friendship that I should have such +thoughts and leave them unuttered. On that very first evening--the +first time I ever saw you--you behaved, in a way, strangely. You +took me into your little sitting-room and I could see that you were +in trouble. Something was happening, or you were afraid that it was +going to happen. You sent me to the window to look out and see if +any one were watching the house. You remember all that?" + +"Yes," she murmured, "I remember." + +"There was some one watching it," Arnold went on. "I told you. I saw +your lips quiver with fear. Then your husband came in and took you +away. You left me there in the room alone. I was to wait for you. +While I was there, one of the men, who had been watching, stole up +through your garden to the very window. I saw his face. I saw his +hand upon the window-sill with that strange ring upon his finger. +You have not forgotten?" + +"Forgotten!" she repeated. "As though that were possible!" + +"Very well," Arnold continued. "Now let me ask you to remember +another evening, only last week, the night I dined with your +brother. I brought you home from the _Empire_ and we found that your +sitting-room had been entered from that same window. The door was +locked and we all thought that burglars must be there. I climbed in +at the window from the garden. You know what I found." + +All the time she seemed to have been making an effort to listen to +him unconcernedly. At this point, however, she broke down. She +abandoned her attempt at continuing her luncheon. She looked up at +him and he could see that she was trembling. + +"Don't go on!" she begged; "please don't!" + +"I must," he insisted. "These things have taken possession of me. I +cannot sleep or rest for thinking of them." + +"For my sake," she implored, "try and forget!" + +He shook his head. + +"It isn't possible," he said simply. "I am not made like that. Even +if you hate me for it, I must go on. You know what I found in your +sitting-room that night." + +"But this is cruel!" she murmured. + +"I found a dead man, a man who, to all appearance, had been +murdered in there. Not only that, but there must have been people +close at hand who were connected with him in some way, or who were +responsible for the crime. We left the room for five minutes, and +when we came back he had disappeared. All that we can judge as to +what became of him is that that same night a dead man was left in a +taxicab, not far away, by an unknown man whom as yet the police have +failed to find." + +"But this is all too horrible!" she murmured. "Why, do you remind me +of it?" + +"Because I must," he went on. "Listen. There are other things. This +man Starling, for instance, whom I met at your house, and who is +suspected of the murder of Rosario--both your brother and you seem +to be trying to shield him. I don't understand it; I can't +understand it. Your brother talked to me strangely the night I dined +with him, but half the time I felt that he was not serious. I do not +for a moment believe that he would stoop to any undignified or +criminal action. I believe in him as I do in you. Yet if Starling is +guilty, why do you both protect him?" + +"Is there anything else?" she faltered. + +"There is the final thing," he reminded her; "the reason why I have +mentioned these matters to you at all--I mean the disappearance of +Mr. Weatherley. Supposing he does not come back, how am I to keep +silent, knowing all that I know, knowing that he was living in a +house surrounded by mysteries? I hate my suspicions. They are like +ugly shadows which follow me about. I like and admire your brother, +and you--you know--" + +He could not finish his sentence. She raised her eyes and he saw +that they were full of tears. + +"Help me," he begged. "You can if you will. Give me your confidence +and I will tell you something which I think that even you do not +know." + +"Something concerned with these happenings?" + +"Something concerned with them," he assented. "I will tell you +when and by whom the body of that man was removed from your +sitting-room." + +She sat looking at him like a woman turned to stone. There was +incredulity in her eyes, incredulity and horror. + +"You cannot know that!" she faltered. + +"I do know it," he asserted. + +"Why have you kept this a secret from me?" she asked. + +"I do not know," he answered. "Somehow or other, when I have been +with you I have felt more anxious to talk of other things. Then +there was another reason which made me anxious to forget the whole +affair if I could. I had some knowledge of one of the men who were +concerned in taking him away." + +The waiter was busy now with the removal of their luncheon. To +Arnold, the necessary exchange of commonplaces was an immense +relief. It was several minutes before they were alone again. Then +she leaned across towards him. She had lit a cigarette now, and, +although she was very thoughtful, she seemed more at her ease. + +"Listen," she began. "I do not ask you to tell me anything more +about that night--I do not wish to hear anything. Tell me instead +exactly what it is that you want from me!" + +"I want nothing more nor less," he answered gently, "than +permission to be your friend and to possess a little more of your +confidence. I want you to end this mystery which surrounds the +things of which I have spoken." + +"And supposing," she said thoughtfully, "supposing I find that my +obligations to other people forbid me to discuss these matters any +more with you?" + +"I can only hope," he answered, "that you will not feel like that. +Remember that these things must have some bearing upon the +disappearance of Mr. Weatherley." + +She rose to her feet with a little shrug of the shoulders and walked +up and down the room for several moments, smoking and humming a +light tune to herself. Arnold watched her, struggling all the time +against the reluctant admiration with which she always inspired him. +She seemed to read in his eyes what was passing in his mind, for +when at last she came to a standstill she stood by his side and +laughed at him, with faintly upraised eyebrows, the cigarette smoke +curling from her lips. + +"And it was for a luncheon such as this," she protested, "that I +wore my new muslin gown and came all the way from the country. I +expected compliments at least. Perhaps I even hoped," she whispered, +leaning a little towards him, with a smile upon her lips,--half +mirthful, half provocative,--"that I might have turned for a moment +that wonderfully hard head of yours." + +Arnold rose abruptly to his feet. + +"You treat men as though they were puppets," he muttered. + +"And you speak of puppets," she murmured, "as though theirs was a +most undesirable existence. Have you never tried to be a puppet, +Arnold?" + +He stepped a little further back still and gripped the back of the +chair, but she kept close to him. + +"I am to have no other answer from you, then, but this foolery?" he +demanded, roughly. + +"Why, yes!" she replied, graciously. "I have an answer ready for +you. You are so abrupt. Listen to what I propose. We will go +together to your office and see whether it is true that Mr. +Weatherley has not returned. If he has really disappeared, and I +think that anything which I can tell you will help, perhaps then I +will do as you ask. It depends a great deal upon what you find in +those papers. Shall we go now, or would you like to stay here a +little longer?" + +"We will go at once," he said firmly. + +She sighed, and passed out of the door which he had thrown open. + +"It is I who am a heroine," she declared. "I am coming down to +Tooley Street with you. I am coming to brave the smells and the fog +and the heat." + +He handed her into the car. He had sufficiently recovered his +self-control to smile. + +"In other words," he remarked, "you mean to be there when I open the +safe!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE LETTERS IN THE SAFE + + +The arrival of Arnold, accompanied by Mrs. Weatherley, created a +mild sensation in Tooley Street. Mr. Jarvis, fussier than ever, and +blinking continually behind his gold-rimmed spectacles, followed +them into the private office. + +"You have heard nothing of Mr. Weatherley?" Arnold asked. + +"Not a word," the cashier answered. "We have rung up several more +places and have tried the hospitals again. We were all hoping that +Mrs. Weatherley had brought us some news." + +She shook her head. + +"Mr. Weatherley left home exceedingly early this morning," she +announced. "I believe that it was before half-past seven. Except +that he called at the house in Hampstead for the letters, I have not +heard of him since." + +"It is most mysterious," Mr. Jarvis declared. "The governor--I beg +your pardon, Mr. Weatherley--is a gentleman of most punctual habits. +There are several matters of business which he knew awaited his +decision to-day. You will excuse me, madam, if I ask whether Mr. +Weatherley seemed in his usual health when he left this morning?" + +Fenella smiled faintly. + +"Have I not already told you," she said, "that he left the cottage +in the country, where we spent the week-end, before half-past seven +this morning? Naturally, therefore, I did not see him. The servants, +however, noticed nothing unusual. Last night Mr. Chetwode here was +with us, and he can tell you what was apparent to all of us. Mr. +Weatherley seemed then in excellent health and spirits." + +Mr. Jarvis had the air of a man hopelessly bewildered. Excellent +servant though he was, nature had not bestowed upon him those gifts +which enable a man to meet a crisis firmly. + +"Can you suggest anything that we ought to do, madam?" he asked Mrs. +Weatherley. + +"I think," she replied, "that Mr. Chetwode has something to tell +you." + +Arnold took the key of the safe from his pocket and turned to the +cashier. + +"A few days ago, Mr. Jarvis," he said slowly, "Mr. Weatherley placed +certain documents in that safe and gave me the key. My instructions +from him were to open and examine them with you, if he should be, +for any unexplained cause, absent from business." + +Mr. Jarvis looked blankly incredulous. + +"Goodness gracious!" he murmured weakly. "Why, that looks almost as +though he expected something of the sort to happen." + +"I think," Arnold continued, "that as it is now past three o'clock, +and Mr. Weatherley is still absent, we had better open the safe." + +He crossed the room as he spoke, fitted the key in the lock, and +swung the door open. Mrs. Weatherley and the cashier looked over his +shoulder. There were only the two letters there. One was addressed +to Messrs. Turnbull & James, Solicitors; the other jointly to Mr. +Jarvis and Mr. Arnold Chetwode. + + [Illustration: Mrs. Weatherley and the cashier looked over his + shoulder. _Page 259_.] + +"There is nothing there for me?" Mrs. Weatherley asked, +incredulously. + +"There is nothing at all," Arnold replied; "unless there may be an +enclosure. Mr. Jarvis, will you open this envelope?" + +Mr. Jarvis took it to the desk and broke the seal with trembling +fingers. He smoothed the letter out, switched on the electric +reading light, and they all read it at the same time. It was written +in Mr. Weatherley's familiar hand, every letter of which was +perfectly distinct and legible. + + TO JARVIS AND CHETWODE. + + This is a record of certain instructions which I wish + carried out in the event of my unexplained absence from + business at any time. + + Firstly--The business is to continue exactly as usual, + and my absence to be alluded to as little as possible. It + can be understood that I am away on the Continent or + elsewhere, on a business voyage. + + Secondly--I have deposited a power of attorney at my + solicitors, made out in the joint names of Henry Jarvis + and Arnold Chetwode. This will enable you both to make + and receive contracts on behalf of the firm. As regards + financial affairs, Messrs. Neville, the accountants, have + already the authority to sign cheques, and a + representative from their firm will be in attendance each + day, or according to your request. My letter to Messrs. + Turnbull & James empowers them to make such payments as + are necessary, on the joint application of you two, Henry + Jarvis and Arnold Chetwode, to whom I address this + letter. + + Thirdly--I have the most implicit confidence in Henry + Jarvis, who has been in my employ for so many years, and + I beg him to understand that I associate with him one so + much his junior, for certain reasons into which I beg + that he will not inquire. + + Fourthly--I repeat that I desire as little publicity as + possible to be given to my absence, and that no money be + spent on advertisements, or any other form of search. If + within two years from the date of the opening of this + letter, I have not been heard from further, I desire that + the usual steps be taken to presume my decease. My will + and all further particulars are with Messrs. Turnbull & + James. + + Fifthly--I desire you to pay to my wife the sum of five + hundred pounds monthly. All other matters concerning my + private estate, etc. are embodied in the letter to + Messrs. Turnbull & James. + +They all finished reading the letter about the same time. Mr. +Jarvis' bewilderment grew deeper and deeper. + +"This is the most extraordinary document I ever read in my life!" he +exclaimed. "Why, it seems as though he had gone away somewhere of +his own accord. After all, it can't be an accident, or anything of +that sort." + +Neither Arnold nor Mrs. Weatherley made any immediate reply. She +pointed to the letter. + +"When did he write this?" she asked. + +"Last Thursday," Arnold replied; "less than a week ago." + +She sighed softly. + +"Really, it is most mysterious," she said. "I wonder whether he can +have gone out of his mind suddenly, or anything of that sort." + +"I have never," Mr. Jarvis declared, "known Mr. Weatherley to +display so much acumen and zest in business as during the last few +days. Some of his transactions have been most profitable. Every one +in the place has remarked upon it." + +Mrs. Weatherley took up the lace parasol which she had laid upon the +office table. + +"It is all most bewildering," she pronounced. "I think that it is no +use my staying here any longer. I will leave you two to talk of it +together. You have doubtless much business to arrange." + +"Are you going back to Bourne End or to Hampstead?" Arnold asked. + +She hesitated. + +"Really, I am not quite sure," she replied, meeting his gaze without +flinching. "I am beginning to find the heat in town insufferable. I +think, perhaps, that I shall go to Bourne End." + +"In that case," Arnold said, "will you allow me to see you there +to-night?" + +"To-night?" she repeated, as though in surprise. + +"Without a doubt." + +She did not answer him for a moment. Meanwhile, the telephone rang, +and Mr. Jarvis was presently engrossed in a business conversation +with a customer. Arnold lowered his voice a little. + +"Our discussion at luncheon was only postponed," he reminded her. +"We have seen these documents. We know now that Mr. Weatherley had +some reason to fear an interruption to his everyday life. Directly +or indirectly, that interruption is connected with certain things of +which you and I have spoken together. I am going to ask you, +therefore, to keep your promise. I am going to ask you to tell me +everything that you know." + +"Are you not afraid," she asked, "that I shall consider you a very +inquisitive young man?" + +"I am afraid of nothing of the sort," Arnold replied. "Mr. +Weatherley's disappearance is too serious a matter for me to take +such trifles into account." + +She pointed to the letter which still lay upon the table. + +"Is it not his expressed wish that you should make no effort towards +solving the reasons for his disappearance?" + +"There is no reason," Arnold answered, doggedly, "why one should not +attempt to understand them." + +Mr. Jarvis had finished his telephoning. Fenella went up to him with +outstretched hand. + +"Mr. Jarvis," she said, "there is nothing more I can do here. I am +very much upset. Will you take me out to my car, please? I know that +you will do the very best you can without Mr. Weatherley, and I am +glad that you have Mr. Chetwode to help you. I would come down +myself sometimes," she added, "but I am sure that I should only be +in the way. Good afternoon, Mr. Chetwode." + +"You have not answered my question," he persisted. + +She looked at him as a great lady would look at a presuming servant. + +"I see no necessity," she replied. "I am too much upset to receive +visitors to-day. If you are ready, Mr. Jarvis." + +She left the room without even a backward glance, closely followed +by the cashier. Arnold stood looking after the retreating figures +for a moment, then he turned away with a hard little laugh. Once +more he read and re-read Mr. Weatherley's letter. Before he had +finished, Mr. Jarvis came bustling back into the room. + +"Well!" he exclaimed, dramatically. "Well!" + +Arnold looked across at him. + +"It's a queer business, isn't it?" he remarked. + +"Queer business, indeed!" Mr. Jarvis repeated, sitting down and +wiping his forehead. "It's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard +of in my life. One doesn't read about such things even in books. +Mrs. Weatherley seems to take it quite calmly, but the more I think +of it, the more confused I become. What are we to do? Shall we go to +the police or write to the newspapers? Can't you suggest something?" + +Arnold finally laid down the letter, which he now knew pretty well +by heart. + +"It seems to me, Mr. Jarvis," he said, "that the thing for us to do +is to obey orders. Mr. Weatherley expressly writes that he wishes us +to take his absence, so far as possible, as a matter of course, and +to look after the business. The very fact that he puts it like that +makes it quite clear to me that he intends to return. My idea is +that we should follow the lines of his letter strictly." + +"You are quite right, Chetwode," Mr. Jarvis decided. "I feel exactly +that way about the matter myself. We'll go right ahead with those +orders now, then, and we can have a chat about the matter again +after business hours, if you don't mind. It's hard to reconcile +oneself to taking this so easily, but I suppose it's the only thing +to do. I'll get out in the warehouse now. You had better send that +note round to Turnbull's by express messenger, and ring up Yardley's +about the American contracts." + +Mr. Jarvis bustled away. Arnold himself found plenty to do. The +business of Messrs. Weatherley & Company must go on, whatever +happened. He set himself sedulously to make his mind a complete +blank. It was not until the offices were closed, and he turned at +last westwards, that he permitted himself even to realize this +strange thing that had happened. On that first walk was born an +impulse which remained with him for many weeks afterwards. He found +himself always scanning the faces of the streams of people whom he +was continually passing, on foot and in vehicles, half expecting +that somewhere among them he would catch a glimpse of the features +of the lost Mr. Weatherley. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +TALK OF TREASURE SHIPS + + +In the twilight of the long spring evening, Ruth sat waiting in the +bare room which had been Arnold's habitation during these days of +his struggle against poverty. She was sitting on the couch, drawn up +as usual to the window, her elbows upon her knees, her hands +supporting her delicate, thoughtful face. Already the color which +the sunshine had brought seemed to have been drained from her +cheeks. Her eyes were unnaturally bright, her expression seemed to +have borrowed something of that wistful earnestness of one of the +earlier Madonnas, seeking with pathetic strenuousness to discover +the germs of a truth which was as yet unborn. The clouds, which hung +low over the other side of the river, were tinged with an unusual +coloring, smoke-stained as they hovered over the chimneys. They grew +clearer and more full of amber color as they floated slowly +southwards. Through the open window came the ceaseless roar of the +city, the undernote of grinding, commonplace life, seeking always to +stifle and enchain the thoughts which would escape. Before her was +spread out a telegram. She had read it many times, until every word +was familiar to her. It was from Arnold, and she had received it +several hours ago. + + Please be prepared to go out with me directly I return + this evening. All well. Love. Arnold. + +It was past eight o'clock before her vigil was at an end. She +listened to his step upon the stairs, and, as he entered, looked at +him with all the eagerness of a wistful child, tremulously anxious +to read his expression. A little wave of tenderness swept in upon +him. He forgot in a moment the anxieties and worries of the day, and +greeted her gayly. + +"You got my telegram?" + +"You extravagant person!" she answered. "Yes, I have been ready for +quite a long time." + +He laughed. + +"To tell you the truth, I didn't even pay for the telegram. As I had +to stay late, I took the liberty of sending it through the firm's +accounts. You see, I have become quite an important person in Tooley +Street all of a sudden. I'll tell you about it presently. Now hold +on tightly to your stick. I'm much too impatient to go down the +steps one by one. I'm going to carry you all the way." + +"But where to?" she asked. + +"Leave it to me," he laughed. "There are all sorts of surprises for +you. The lady with the wand has been busy." + +He carried her downstairs, where, to her surprise, she found a +taxicab waiting. + +"But, Arnold," she exclaimed, "how could you think of such +extravagance! You know I can walk quite easily a little distance, if +I take your arm." + +"I'll tell you all about it at dinner-time," he replied. + +"Dinner-time?" she cried. "Dinner at this hour?" + +"Why not? It's quite the fashionable hour, I can assure you, and, +to tell you the truth, I am half starved." + +She resigned herself with a sigh of content. After all, it was so +delightful to drift like this with some one infinitely stronger to +take the responsibility for everything. They drove to a large and +popular restaurant close at hand, where Arnold ordered the dinner, +with frequent corrections from Ruth, who sat with a menu-card in her +hand. A band was playing the music of the moment. It was all very +commonplace, but to Ruth it was like a living chapter out of her +book of dreams. Even there, though, the shadow pursued. She could +bear the silence no longer. She dropped her voice a little. The +place was crowded and there were people at the next table. + +"Before I touch anything, Arnold, tell me this. Is there any news of +Isaac?" + +"None at all," he replied. "It all seemed very alarming to us, but +it seems to be fizzling out. There is only quite a small paragraph +in the evening paper. You can read it, if you like." + +He drew the _Evening News_ from his pocket and passed it to her. The +paragraph to which he pointed was headed-- + + ESCAPE OF AN ANARCHIST FROM ADAM STREET. + + Up to the time of going to press, the man Isaac Lalonde, + whom the police failed to arrest last night on a charge + not at present precisely stated, has not been + apprehended. The police are reticent about the matter, + but it is believed that the missing man was connected + with a dangerous band of anarchists who have lately come + to this country. + +"Poor Isaac!" she murmured, with a little shiver. "Do you know, I +remember him years ago, when he was the kindest-hearted man +breathing. He went to Russia to visit some of his mother's +relatives, and when he came back everything was changed. He saw +injustice everywhere, and it seemed almost to unbalance his mind. +The very sight of the west-end, the crowds coming out of the +theatres, the shops in Bond Street, seemed to send him half mad. And +it all started, Arnold, with real pity for the poor. It isn't a +personal matter with him at any time." + +Arnold nodded thoughtfully. + +"Poor chap!" he remarked. "Just at first I really used to like +talking to him. He was so earnest, and so many of his arguments were +absolutely sound." + +"It is only lately," Ruth said, "that he has changed so much." + +"I think it is quite time that you and he were separated," Arnold +declared. "It is evident, nowadays, that he isn't responsible for +his actions." + +"Separated!" she repeated bitterly. "You talk as though I had a +choice of homes." + +"You have," he assured her. "However, we won't say anything about +that just now. I want to talk about myself." + +"And I want to listen, dear!" she exclaimed. "You must tell me what +has happened, Arnie. Has Mr. Weatherley taken you into partnership, +or has some one of your disagreeable relatives found you out and +been pouring money into your pockets?" + +"Neither," he replied. "As a matter of fact, there is no Mr. +Weatherley just at present." + +"No Mr. Weatherley?" she repeated, wonderingly. "I don't +understand." + +The slightly worn look came back to Arnold's face. Young and strong +though he was, he was beginning to feel the strain of the last few +days. + +"A most extraordinary thing has happened, Ruth," he declared. "Mr. +Weatherley has disappeared." + +She looked at him blankly. + +"Disappeared? I don't understand." + +"He simply didn't turn up at business this morning," Arnold +continued. "He left Bourne End about seven, and no one has set eyes +on him since." + +She was bewildered. + +"But how is it that that makes such a difference to you?" she asked. +"What can have happened to him?" + +"No one knows," he explained; "but in a little safe, of which he had +given me the keys, he left behind some letters with instructions +that during his absence from business Mr. Jarvis and I should +jointly take charge. I can't really imagine why I should have been +put in such a position, but there it is. The solicitors have been +down this afternoon, and I am drawing six pounds a week and a +bonus." + +She took his hand in hers and patted it gently. + +"I am so very glad, Arnold," she said, "so very glad that the days +of your loneliness are over. Now you will be able to go and take +some comfortable rooms somewhere and make the sort of friends you +ought to have. Didn't I always foretell it?" she went on. "I used to +try and fancy sometimes that the ships we saw were bringing treasure +for me, too, but I never really believed that. It wasn't quite +likely." + +He turned and looked at her. The first flush of excitement had left +her cheeks. She was very pale, and her soft gray eyes shone like +stars. Her mouth was tremulous. It was the passing of a single +impulse of self-pity. + +"Foolish little girl!" he exclaimed, under his breath. "You don't +really suppose that the treasure which came for me wasn't yours, +too? But there, we'll talk about our plans later on. At present, +what you have to do is to eat and to drink that glass of Burgundy +and to listen to me. I want to talk about myself." + +It was the subtlest way to distract her thoughts. She listened to +him with keen interest while he talked of his day's work. It was not +until she mentioned Fenella's name that his face clouded over. + +"Curiously enough, Mrs. Weatherley is displeased with me. I should +have thought it entirely through her influence and suggestions that +Mr. Weatherley had been so kind to me, but to-day I asked her some +questions which I felt that I had a right to ask, and have been told +to mind my own business. She left me at the office without even +saying 'Good afternoon.'" + +"What sort of questions?" + +"I don't know that I can tell you exactly what the questions were," +Arnold continued, "because they concerned some matters in which Mrs. +Weatherley and her brother were chiefly concerned. To tell you the +truth, ever since that night when I went to Hampstead to dine, the +oddest things seem to have happened to me. I have to pinch myself +sometimes to realize that this is London and that I am a clerk in +the office of a wholesale provision merchant. When I let myself go, +I seem to have been living in an unreal world, full of strange +excitements--a veritable Arabian Nights." + +"There was that terrible murder," she murmured. "You saw that, +didn't you?" + +He nodded. + +"Not only saw it," he agreed, "but I seem, somehow, to have been +mixed up with people who know a great deal about it. However, I have +been told to mind my own business and I am going to. I have plenty +to occupy my thoughts in Tooley Street. I am going to close in my +little world and live there. The rest I am going to forget." + +"You are coming back!" she whispered, with a joy in her tone which +amazed him. + +"I suppose I am," he admitted. "I like and admire Mrs. Weatherley's +brother, Count Sabatini, and I have a genuine affection for Mrs. +Weatherley, but I don't understand them. I don't understand these +mysterious matters in which they seem mixed up." + +"I do not believe," she declared, "that Count Sabatini would be +mixed up in anything dishonorable. Women so seldom make a mistake, +you know," she continued, "and I never met any one in my life who +seemed so kind and gentle." + +Arnold sighed. + +"I wish I could tell you everything," he said, "then I think you +would really be as bewildered as I am. Mr. Weatherley's +disappearance coming on the top of it all simply makes my brain +reel. I can't do anything to help straighten things out. Therefore, +I am going to do what I am told--I am going to mind my own +business." + +"To think only of Tooley Street," she murmured. + +"I shall find it quite enough," he answered. "I want to understand +all the details of the business, and it isn't easy at first. Mr. +Jarvis is very sound and good, but he's a very small man moving in a +very small way. Even Mr. Weatherley used to laugh at his methods." + +She was silent for several moments. He studied her expression +curiously. + +"You don't believe that I shall be able to immerse myself in +business?" he asked. + +"It isn't exactly that," she replied. "I believe that you mean to +try, and I believe that to some extent you will succeed, but I +think, Arnold, that before very long you will hear the voices +calling again from the world where these strange things happened. +You are not made of the clay, dear, which resists for ever." + +He moved uneasily in his seat. Her words sounded ominous. He was +suddenly conscious that his present state of determination was the +result of a battle, and that the war was not yet ended. + +"She is so beautiful, that Mrs. Weatherley," Ruth continued, +clasping her hands together and looking for a moment away from her +surroundings. "No one could be blamed for climbing a little way out +of the dull world if she held out her hands. I have seen so little +of either of them, Arnold, but I do know that they both of them have +that curious gift--would you call it charm?--the gift of creating +affection. No one has ever spoken to me more kindly and more +graciously than Count Sabatini did when he sat by my side on the +lawn. What is that gift, Arnold? Do you know that with every word he +spoke I felt that he was not in the least a stranger? There was +something familiar about his voice, his manner--everything." + +"I think that they are both quite wonderful people," Arnold +admitted. + +"Mrs. Weatherley, too, was kind," Ruth went on; "but I felt that +she did not like me very much. She has an interest in you, and like +all women she was a little jealous--not in the ordinary way, I don't +mean," she corrected herself hastily, "but no woman likes any one in +whom she takes an interest to be very kind to any one else." + +They had reached the stage of their coffee. The band was playing the +latest waltz. It was all very commonplace, but they were both young +and uncritical. The waltz was one which Fenella had played after +dinner at Bourne End, while they had sat out in the garden, +lingering over their dessert. A flood of memories stirred him. The +soft sensuousness of that warm spring night, with its perfumed +silence, its subtly luxurious setting, stole through his senses like +a narcotic. Ruth was right. It was not to be so easy! He called for +his bill and paid it. Ruth laid her fingers upon his arm. + +"Arnold," she began timidly, "there is something more. I scarcely +know how to say it to you and yet it ought not to be difficult. You +talk all the time as though you were my brother, or as though it +were your duty to help me. It isn't so, dear, really, is it? If you +could manage to lend me your room for one week, I think that I might +be able to help myself a little. There is a place the clergyman told +us of who came to see me once--" + +Arnold interrupted her almost roughly. A keen pang of remorse +assailed him. He knew very well that if she had not been intuitively +conscious of some change in him, the thought which prompted her +words would never have entered her brain. + +"Don't let me hear you mention it!" he exclaimed. "I have made all +the arrangements. It wouldn't do for me to live in an attic now +that I am holding a responsible position in the city. Come along. +Lean on my arm and mind the corner." + +They had purposely chosen a table close to the door, so that they +had only a few steps to take. Arnold called a taxi and handed Ruth +in before he told the man the address. + +"Now close your eyes," he insisted, when they were together in the +cab. + +Ruth did as she was told. + +"I feel that it is all wrong," she murmured, leaning back, "but it +is like little bits out of a fairy book, and to-night I feel so weak +and you are so strong. It isn't any use my saying anything, Arnold, +is it?" + +"Not a bit," he answered. "All that you have to do is to hold my +hand and wait." + +In less than ten minutes the cab stopped. He hurried her into the +entrance hall of a tall, somewhat somber building. A man in uniform +rang a bell and the lift came down. They went up, it seemed to her, +seven or eight flights. When they stepped out, her knees were +trembling. He caught her up and carried her down a corridor. Then he +fitted a Yale key from his pocket into a lock and threw open the +door. There was a little hall inside, with three doors. He pushed +open the first; it was a small bedroom, plainly but not +unattractively furnished. He carried her a little way further down +the corridor and threw open another door--a tiny sitting-room with a +fire burning. + +"Our new quarters!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "The room at the other +end of the passage is mine. A pound a week and a woman to come in +and light the fires! Mr. Jarvis let me have some money and I paid +three months' rent in advance. What do you think of them?" + +"I can't think," she whispered. "I can't!" + +He carried her to the window. + +"This is my real surprise, dear," he announced, in a tone of +triumph. "Look!" + +The blind flew up at his touch. On the other side of the street was +a row of houses over which they looked. Beyond, the river, whose +dark waters were gleaming in the moonlight. On their left were the +Houses of Parliament, all illuminated. On their right, the long, +double line of lights shining upon the water at which they had gazed +so often. + +"The lighted way, dear," he murmured, holding her a little more +closely to him. "While I am down in the city you can sit here and +watch, and you can see the ships a long way further off than you +could ever see them from Adam Street. You can see the bend, too. +It's always easier, isn't it, to fancy that something is coming into +sight around the corner?" + +She was not looking. Her head was buried upon his shoulder. Arnold +was puzzled. + +"Look up, Ruth dear," he begged. "I want you to look now--look along +the lighted way and hold my hand very tightly. Don't you think that, +after all, one of your ships has come home?" + +She lifted her face, wet with tears, and looked in the direction +where he pointed. Arnold, who felt nothing himself but a thrill of +pleasure at his new quarters, was puzzled at a certain trouble which +he seemed to see in her features, a faint hopelessness of +expression. She looked where he pointed but there was none of the +eager expectancy of a few weeks ago. + +"It is beautiful, Arnold," she murmured, "but I can't talk just +now." + +"I am going to leave you to get over it," he declared. "I'm off now +to fetch the luggage. You won't be afraid to be left here?" + +She shook her head. A certain look of relief flashed across her +face. + +"No, I shall not be afraid," she answered. + +He wheeled the easy-chair up to the window which he had flung wide +open. He placed a cushion at the back of her head and left her with +a cheerful word. She heard his steps go down the corridor, the +rattle of the lift as it descended. Then her lips began to tremble +and the sobs to shake her shoulders. She held out her hands toward +that line of lights at which he had pointed, and her fingers were +clenched. + +"It is because--I am like this!" she cried, half hysterically. "I +don't count!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +COUNT SABATINI VISITS + + +There was an air of subdued excitement about the offices of Messrs. +Samuel Weatherley & Company from nine until half-past on the +following morning. For so many years his clerks had been accustomed +to see Mr. Weatherley stroll in somewhere about that time, his cigar +in his mouth, his silk hat always at the same angle, that it seemed +hard for them to believe that this morning they would not hear the +familiar footstep and greeting. Every time a shadow passed the +window, heads were eagerly raised. The sound of the bell on the +outside door brought them all to their feet. They were all on tiptoe +with expectation. The time, however, came and passed. The letters +were all opened, and Mr. Jarvis and Arnold were occupying the +private office. Already invoices were being distributed and orders +entered up. The disappearance of Mr, Weatherley was a thing +established. + +Mr. Jarvis was starting the day in a pessimistic frame of mind. + +"You may take my word for it, Chetwode," he said solemnly to his +companion, after he had finished going through the letters, "that we +shall never see the governor again." + +Arnold was startled. + +"Have you heard anything?" he asked. + +Mr. Jarvis admitted gloomily that he had heard nothing. + +"It's my belief that nothing more will be heard," he added, "until +his body's found." + +"Rubbish!" Arnold declared. "Mr. Weatherley wasn't the sort of man +to commit suicide." + +Mr. Jarvis looked around the office as though he almost feared that +the ghost of his late employer might be listening. + +"It is my belief," he said impressively, "that we none of us knew +the sort of man Mr. Weatherley was, or rather the sort of man he has +become since his marriage." + +"I don't see what marriage with Mrs. Weatherley could have had to do +with his disappearance," Arnold remarked. + +Mr. Jarvis looked foolishly wise from behind his gold-rimmed +spectacles. + +"You haven't had the opportunity of watching the governor as I have +since his marriage," he declared. "Take my advice, Chetwode. You are +not married, I presume?" + +"I am not," Arnold assured him. + +"Nor thinking of it?" + +"Nor thinking of it," Arnold repeated. + +"When the time comes," Mr. Jarvis said, "don't you go poking about +in any foreign islands or places. If only the governor had left +those smelly European cheeses to take care of themselves, he'd be +sitting here in his chair at this moment, smoking a cigar and +handing me out the orders. You and I are, so to speak, in a +confidential position now, Chetwode, and I am able to say things to +you about which I might have hesitated before. Do you know how much +the governor has spent during the last year?" + +"No idea," Arnold replied. "Does it matter?" + +"He has spent," Mr. Jarvis announced, solemnly, "close upon ten +thousand pounds." + +"It sounds like a good deal," Arnold admitted, "but I expect he had +saved it." + +"Of course he had saved it," Mr. Jarvis admitted; "but what has that +to do with it? One doesn't save money for the pleasure of spending +it. Never since my connection with the firm has Mr. Weatherley +attempted to spend anything like one half of his income." + +"Then I should think it was quite time he began," Arnold declared. +"You are not going to suggest, I suppose, that financial +embarrassments had anything to do with Mr. Weatherley's +disappearance?" + +Mr. Jarvis started. To him the suggestion sounded sacrilegious. + +"My dear Chetwode," he said, "you must indeed be ignorant of the +resources of the firm when you make such a suggestion! I simply +wished to point out that after his marriage Mr. Weatherley +completely changed all his habits. It is not well for a man of his +age to change his habits.... God bless my soul, here is an +automobile stopping outside. If it should be Mr. Weatherley come +back!" + +They both hurried eagerly to the window. The automobile, however, +which had drawn up outside, was larger and more luxurious than Mr. +Weatherley's. Count Sabatini, folding up his newspaper, made a +leisurely descent. The cashier looked at him curiously. + +"Wonder who it is," he remarked. "Looks like some sort of a +foreigner." + +"It is Mrs. Weatherley's brother," Arnold told him. + +Mr. Jarvis was deeply interested. A moment later a card was brought +in. + +"Gentleman wishes to see Mr. Chetwode." + +"You can show him in," Arnold directed. + +Sabatini was already upon the threshold. He carried his gray Homburg +hat in his hand; he seemed to bring with him a subtle atmosphere of +refinement. The perfection of his clothes, the faint perfume from +his handkerchief, his unusual yet unnoticeable tie--these things +were a cult to himself. The little array of clerks, through whose +ranks he had passed, stared after him in wonder. + +"How are you, my young friend?" he asked, smiling at Arnold. +"Immersed in business, I suppose?" + +"We are very busy, naturally," Arnold answered. "Please come in and +sit down." + +Sabatini laid his hat and stick upon the table and commenced +leisurely to draw off his gloves. + +"This is Mr. Jarvis, who has been Mr. Weatherley's right-hand man +for a great many years," Arnold said, introducing him; "Count +Sabatini, Mr. Weatherley's brother-in-law." + +Mr. Jarvis shook hands solemnly. + +"I am glad to know you, sir," he declared. "I have not had the +pleasure of seeing much of Mrs. Weatherley, but my connection with +the firm is a very old one." + +"Is there any news," asked Sabatini, "of our esteemed friend?" + +Mr. Jarvis shook his head mournfully. + +"There is no news," he announced. "I am afraid, sir, that it will +be a long time before we do hear any news. If your business is with +Mr. Chetwode, Count Sabatini," he added, "I will ask you to excuse +me. I have plenty to do in the warehouse. If there is any +information I can give you on behalf of your sister or yourself, I +shall be very happy to come back if you will send for me." + +He bustled out, closing the door after him. Sabatini looked around +with a faint smile, as though his surroundings amused him. He then +carefully deposited his gloves with his hat, selected the most +comfortable chair, and seated himself. + +"So this is where the money is coined, eh?" he remarked. "It is +fortunate that I have discovered the place, for I need some." + +Arnold smiled. + +"We haven't had time to do much coining yet." + +"Supposing I want five hundred pounds, could I have it?" Sabatini +asked. + +Arnold shook his head. + +"Certainly not," he replied, "unless you had cheeses to sell us for +it, or bacon. Messrs. Weatherley & Company are provision merchants, +not money-lenders." + +"You have the control of the finances, haven't you?" + +"To a certain extent, I have," Arnold admitted. + +"Now how much is there in that safe, I wonder?" Sabatini asked. + +"About thirteen hundred pounds--perhaps even more than that," Arnold +told him. + +Sabatini withdrew the hand which had been fumbling in his pocket. +Arnold looked suddenly into the muzzle of a small, shining revolver. + +"It was very foolish of you to give me that information," Sabatini +said. "You have not forgotten our long conversation, I trust? I +expounded to you most carefully the creed of my life. Five hundred +pounds, if you please," he added, politely. + +"Not one ha'penny," Arnold answered, seating himself upon the table +and folding his arms. + +"I'll give you until I count three," Sabatini announced, in a still, +cold voice. + +"You can give me as long as you like," Arnold retorted, pleasantly. + +Sabatini very deliberately counted three and pulled the trigger of +his revolver. There was a slight click. He looked down the muzzle of +the weapon and, with a little sigh, thrust it back into his pocket. + +"This appears to be one of my failures," he declared. "Lend me five +shillings, then," he added. "I really came out without any silver +and I must keep up my reputation. I positively cannot leave this +office without loot of some sort." + +Arnold handed his visitor two half-crowns, which the latter put +gravely into his pocket. + +"Come and lunch with me to-day at my rooms," he invited. "Lady +Blennington and Fenella will be there. If you bring with you a +sufficient appetite, you may get value for your five shillings. It +is the only way you will ever get it back." + +"Then I must resign myself to being robbed," Arnold answered. "We +haven't time, nowadays, for luncheon parties. On the whole, I think +I should be justified in putting the amount down to petty cash. I +might even debit Mrs. Weatherley's account with it." + +Sabatini took out his cigarette case. + +"You will forgive me?" he said. "In your offices, I believe, it is +not the custom, but I must confess that I find your atmosphere +abominable. Last night I saw Fenella. She told me of your +disagreement with her and your baseless suspicions. Really, +Chetwode, I am surprised at you." + +"'Suspicions' seems scarcely the word," Arnold murmured. + +Sabatini sighed. + +"You are such a hideously matter-of-fact person," he declared. +"Fenella should have seen your attitude from the humorous point of +view. It would have appealed to me very much indeed." + +"I am sorry if your sister misunderstood anything that I said," +Arnold remarked, a little awkwardly. + +"My dear fellow," Sabatini continued, "there seems to have been very +little ground for misunderstanding. Fenella was positively hurt. She +says that you seem to look upon us as a sort of adventurer and +adventuress--people who live by their wits, you understand, from +hour to hour, without character or reputation. She is quite sure, in +her own mind, that you believe Mr. Weatherley's absence to be due to +our secret and criminal machinations." + +"I am sorry," Arnold replied, "if anything I said to your sister has +given her that impression. The fact remains, however, that Mrs. +Weatherley has declined to give me any explanation of various +incidents which were certainly more than bewildering. One cannot +help feeling," he went on, after a moment's hesitation, "that if my +friendship were of any account to your sister--which, of course, it +isn't--she would look at the matter differently." + +"My dear Chetwode," Sabatini declared, "my sympathies are entirely +with you. The trouble of it is, of course, that the explanations +which you demand will probably leave you only the more bewildered. +When I came to London," he continued, watching the smoke from his +cigarette, "I said to myself, 'In this great black city all hopes of +adventure must be buried. Fenella will become a model wife of the +_bourgeoisie_. I myself, if I stay, shall probably become director +of some city company where they pay fees, give up baccarat for +bridge, imbibe whiskey and soda instead of the wine of my country; +perhaps, even--who knows?--I may take to myself a wife and live in a +villa.' On the contrary, other things have happened. Even here the +earth has trembled a little under our feet. Even now we listen for +the storm." + +"You talk to me always in parables," Arnold protested. "How am I to +understand what you mean?" + +"You have reason, my young friend," Sabatini admitted calmly. "Ask +your questions." + +"First of all, then, you know where Mr. Weatherley is!" + +Sabatini made a wry face. + +"Let us leave this respectable Weatherley out of the case for a +moment," he said. "To tell you the truth, I am weary of him. I would +speak of ourselves--of my sister and myself and those others. You +cannot deny that however wicked you may think us we are at least +interesting." + +"Have you come here to make fun of me?" Arnold asked quietly. + +"Not in the least," Sabatini assured him. "On the contrary, I have +come to make friends. My sister is penitent. We have decided to +take your discretion for granted. I am here to explain. You want to +understand all these things which seem to you so mysterious. Well, +ask your questions. What is it that you wish to know?" + +"Nothing," Arnold replied. "I have come to the conclusion that +I was wrong to speak to your sister as I did. I have a great +responsibility here which will occupy all my thoughts. I am going to +devote myself to work. The other things do not interest me any +longer." + +Sabatini smiled. + +"My young friend," he murmured, "you may say that to yourself, but +it is not true. It is not life for you to buy these articles of food +at one price and sell them for another; to hold the profit in your +hand and smile. That is what life means in Tooley Street. You could +do it for a little time, perhaps, but not for very long." + +"It may seem absurd to you," Arnold protested, "but it's my duty for +the present, anyhow, and I am going to do it. I shall have to work +ten hours a day and I shall have no time for dreams. I am going to +stay in the atmosphere I have to live in." + +Sabatini shook his head. + +"You must have relaxation." + +"I can find it," Arnold replied. "I can find it without going so far +afield." + +Sabatini was silent for a moment. He was a man of few expressions, +but he seemed a little disappointed. + +"Will you do your duty any the less zealously, do you think," he +asked, "because you have friends who take an interest in you?" + +Arnold was suddenly conscious of the ungraciousness of his +attitude. + +"You don't understand!" he exclaimed, a little desperately. "Your +world wasn't made for me. I haven't any place in it. My work is +here. I can't allow myself always to be distracted. Your sister is +the most wonderful person I ever met, and it is one of the greatest +pleasures I have ever known to talk to her, even for a few minutes, +but I am more at peace with myself and with the world when I am away +from her." + +There was a gleam of approval in Sabatini's dark eyes. He nodded +thoughtfully. + +"It is well spoken. My sister chose to marry Samuel Weatherley, and +the women of our race have been famous throughout history for their +constancy. Must you, my dear young friend, go and hide your head in +the sand because a woman is beautiful and chooses to be kind to you? +Fenella values your friendship. You have done her a service and you +have done me a service. A few nights ago it amused me to feed your +suspicions. This morning I feel otherwise. We do not choose, either +of us, that you should think of us quite in the way you are thinking +now." + +Arnold hesitated no longer then. He came and stood by his visitor. + +"Since you insist, then," he declared, "I will ask you the questions +which I should have asked your sister. That is what you desire?" + +"Assuredly," Sabatini assented. + +"First then, who killed Rosario?" + +"There is a certain directness about your methods," Sabatini said +suavely, "which commends itself to me. No one could mistake you for +anything but an Englishman." + +"Tell me who killed Rosario!" Arnold repeated. + +"As you will," Sabatini replied. "Rosario was murdered by a +Portuguese Jew--a man of the name of Isaac Lalonde." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +SOME QUESTIONS ANSWERED + + +Arnold stood quite still for several moments. The shock seemed to +have deprived him even of the power of speech. Sabatini watched him +curiously. + +"Is it my fancy," he inquired, "or is the name familiar to you?" + +"The name is familiar," Arnold confessed. + +Sabatini, for a moment, appeared to be puzzled. + +"Lalonde," he repeated to himself. "Why, Lalonde," he added, looking +up quickly, "was the name of the young lady whom you brought with +you to Bourne End. An uncommon name, too." + +"Her uncle," Arnold declared; "the same man, beyond a doubt. The +police tried to arrest him two days ago, and he escaped. You might +have read of it in the paper. It was spoken of as an attempt to +capture an anarchist. Lalonde fired at them when he made his +escape." + +Sabatini sighed. + +"It is a small world," he admitted. "I know all about Isaac Lalonde, +but I am very sorry indeed to hear that the young lady is connected +with him. She seemed--I hope you will forgive me--to speak as though +she lived in straitened circumstances. Do you mind telling me +whether this event is likely to prove of inconvenience to her?" + +Arnold shook his head. + +"I am making arrangements to find her another apartment," he said. +"We have been through some very dark times together. I feel that I +have the right to do everything that is necessary. I have no one +else to support." + +Sabatini hesitated. + +"If one might be permitted," he began, with what was, for him, a +considerable amount of diffidence,-- + +Arnold interposed a little brusquely. + +"The care of Ruth Lalonde is upon my shoulders," he insisted. "There +can be no question about that. From me it is not charity, for she +shared her meals with me when I was practically starving. I am going +to ask you more questions." + +"Proceed, by all means," Sabatini invited. + +"Was Starling concerned at all in this Rosario affair?" + +"Not directly," Sabatini admitted. + +"Then why," Arnold demanded, "does he hide and behave like a +frightened child?" + +"A pertinent question," Sabatini agreed. "You have to take into +account the man's constitutional cowardice. It is a fact, however, +that he was perfectly well aware of what was going to happen, and +there are circumstances connected with the affair--a document, for +instance, that we know to be in the hands of the police--which +account for their suspicions and would certainly tend to implicate +our friend Starling. It would be quite easy to make out a very +strong case against him." + +"I do not understand," Arnold said, after a moment's silence, "what +interest Lalonde could have had in killing Rosario." + +Sabatini contemplated for a few moments the tip of his patent shoe. +Then he sighed gently and lit a cigarette. + +"For a young man," he remarked, "it is certain that you have a great +deal of curiosity. Still, you have also, I believe, discretion. +Listen, then. There is a certain country in the south of Europe +which all those who are behind the scenes know to be on the brink of +a revolution. The capital is already filled with newspaper +correspondents, the thunder mutters day by day. The army is unpaid +and full of discontent. For that reason, it is believed that their +spirit is entirely revolutionary. Every morning we who know expect +to read in the papers that the royal palace has been stormed and the +king become an exile. This was the state of things until about a +week ago. Did you read the papers on Thursday morning last?" + +Arnold shook his head. + +"Perhaps," he replied. "I saw nothing that I can remember." + +"That morning," Sabatini continued, "the morning of Rosario's death, +one read that the government of that country, which had vainly +applied for a loan to all the bankers of Europe with a view to +satisfying the claims of the army and navy, had at last succeeded in +arranging one through the intervention of Rosario. The paragraph was +probably inspired, but it spoke plainly, going so far, even, as to +say that the loan had probably averted a revolution. The man who had +saved the monarchy of an ancient nation was Rosario. One of his +rewards, I think, was to have been a title and a distinguished +order; it was understood among us that this was the real bait. +Rosario's actual reward you know of." + +"But where does Isaac Lalonde come in?" demanded Arnold. + +"Isaac Lalonde is the London secretary of the revolutionary party of +the country of which I have been speaking. I think," he concluded, +"that your intelligence will make the rest clear." + +Arnold struck the table on the edge of which he was sitting with the +palm of his hand. + +"Look here," he asked hoarsely, "if you knew all these things, if +you knew that Isaac Lalonde had committed this murder, why do you go +about with your lips closed? Why haven't you told the truth? An +innocent man might be arrested at any time." + +Sabatini smiled tolerantly. + +"My dear fellow," he said, "why should I? Be reasonable! When you +reach my age you will find that silence is often best. As a matter +of fact, in this ease my sympathies are very much involved. It is in +the mind of many of those who hold the strings that when that +revolution does take place it will be I who shall lead it." + +Arnold was again bewildered. + +"But you," he protested, "are of the ancient nobility of +Europe. What place have you among a crowd of anarchists and +revolutionaries?" + +"You jump at conclusions, my young friend," remarked Sabatini. "The +country of which we have spoken is my country, the country from +which, by an unjust decree I am exiled. There are among those who +desire a change of government, many aristocrats. It is not only the +democracy whose hatred has been aroused by the selfish and brutal +methods of the reigning house." + +Arnold got down from his table and walked to the window. The +telephone rang with some insignificant inquiry from a customer. The +incident somehow relieved him. It brought him back to the world of +every-day events. The reality of life once more obtruded itself upon +his conscience. All the time Sabatini lounged at his ease and +watched him, always with the faint beginning of a smile upon his +lips. + +"What I have told you," the latter continued, after a few moments' +pause, "must not, during these days, pass beyond the four walls of +this singularly uninviting-looking apartment. I have nothing to add +or to take from what I have said. The subject is closed. If you have +more questions on any other subject, I have still a few minutes." + +"Very well, then," Arnold said, coming back to his place, "let us +consider the Rosario matter disposed of. Let us go back for a moment +to Starling. Tell me why you and your sister saw danger to +yourselves in Starling's nervous breakdown? Tell me why, when I +returned to Pelham Lodge with her that night, she found a dead man +in her room, a man whose body was afterwards mysteriously removed?" + +"Quite a spirited number of questions," Sabatini remarked. "Well, to +begin with, then, Rosario signed his death-warrant the moment he +wrote his name across the parchment which guaranteed the loan. On +the night when you first visited Pelham Lodge we heard the news. I +believe that Lalonde and his friends would have killed him that +night if they could have got at him. Lalonde, however, was a person +of strange and inaccessible habits. He hated all aristocrats, and he +refused even to communicate with me. Speaking for myself, I was just +as determined as Isaac Lalonde that Rosario should never conclude +that loan. I told him so that night--Starling and I together. It was +thought necessary, by those whose word I am content to accept, that +what I had to say to Rosario should come through Starling. It was +Starling, therefore, who told him what his position would be if he +proceeded further. I must admit that the fellow showed courage. He +took a note of Starling's words, which he declared at the time +should be deposited in his safe, so that if anything should happen +to him, some evidence might be forthcoming. The police, without a +doubt, have been in possession of this document, and, curiously +enough, Starling was at the _Milan_ that day. You will perceive, +therefore, that in the absence, even, of a reasonable alibi it might +be difficult to prove his innocence. To our surprise, however, for +we had some faith in the fellow, instead of taking this matter with +the indifference of a brave man, he has chosen to behave like a +child. In his present half maudlin state he would, I am afraid, if +in serious danger of conviction, make statements likely to cause a +good deal of inconvenience to myself, my sister's friends, and +others." + +"Does he know himself who committed the murder?" Arnold asked. + +Sabatini smiled. + +"Perfectly well," he admitted, "but the fact helps him very little. +Isaac Lalonde is rather a notable figure among European criminals. +He belongs to a company of anarchists, well-meaning but +bloodthirsty, who hold by one another to the death. If Starling, to +save himself, were to disclose the name of the real murderer, he +would simply make his exit from this life with a knife through his +heart instead of the hangman's rope about his neck. These fellows, I +believe, seldom commit crimes, but they are very much in earnest and +very dangerous. If you ever happen to meet one of them with a red +signet-ring upon his fourth finger, you can look out for trouble." + +Arnold shivered for a moment. + +"I have seen that ring," he murmured. + +"You were a spectator of the tragedy, I remember," Sabatini agreed, +pleasantly. "Now are you quite satisfied about Starling?" + +"I have heard all I want to about that," Arnold admitted. + +"We come, then, to your last question," Sabatini said. "You demand +to know the meaning of the unfortunate incident which occurred in my +sister's boudoir. Here I think that I am really going to surprise +you." + +"Nothing," Arnold declared, fervently, "could surprise me. However, +go on." + +"Neither Fenella nor myself," Sabatini asserted, "have the slightest +idea as to how that man met with his death." + +"But you know who he was?" Arnold asked. "You know why he was +watching your house, why he seems to have broken into it?" + +"I can assure you," Sabatini repeated, "that not only am I ignorant +as to how the man met with his death, but I have no idea what he was +doing in the house at all. The night Rosario was there it was +different. They were on his track then, without a doubt, and they +meant mischief. Since then, however, there has been a pronounced +difference of opinion between the two branches of the revolutionary +party--the one which I represent and the one which includes Lalonde +and his friends. The consequence is that although we may be said to +be working for the same ends, we have drawn a little apart. We have +had no communications whatever with Lalonde and his friends since +the murder of Rosario. Therefore, I can only repeat that I am +entirely in the dark as to what that man was doing in my sister's +rooms or how he met with his death. You must remember that these +fellows are all more or less criminals. Lalonde, I believe, is +something of an exception, but the rest of them are at war with +Society to the extent of enriching themselves at the expense of +their wealthier neighbors on every possible occasion. It is quite +likely that the night they were watching Rosario it may have +occurred to them that my sister's room contained a good many +valuable trifles and was easily entered, especially as they seem to +have had a meeting place close at hand. That, however, is pure +surmise. You follow me?" + +Arnold sighed. + +"In a way, I suppose I do," he admitted. "But--it isn't easy, is +it?" + +"These matters are not easy," Sabatini agreed. "There are motives +and counter-motives to be taken note of with which at present I do +not weary you. I give you the clue. It is enough." + +"But the mystery of the man's body being removed?" Arnold began. + +Sabatini shrugged his shoulders. + +"Our knowledge ends with what I have told you," he said. "We have +no idea who killed the man, and what we know about his removal we +know only from what you saw." + +Arnold sat thinking for several moments. The telephone rang and some +one inquired for Mr. Weatherley. When he had answered it, he turned +once more to his visitor. + +"Do you know," he remarked, "that nothing that you have yet told me +throws the slightest light upon the disappearance of Mr. +Weatherley?" + +Sabatini smiled. + +"Ah! well," he said, "I am afraid that as yet I have not fully +appreciated that incident. In France it is by no means unusual that +a man should take a hurried journey from his family. I, perhaps, +have not sufficiently taken into account Mr. Weatherley's exactness +and probity of life. His disappearance may, indeed, have a more +alarming significance than either my sister or I have been inclined +to give it, but let me assure you of this, my dear Chetwode, that +even if Mr. Weatherley has come to serious grief, neither Fenella +nor I can suggest the slightest explanation for it. She knows of no +reason for his absence. Neither do I. She is, however, just as +convinced as I am that he will turn up again, and before very long." + +Sabatini pushed away his chair and prepared to leave. His hand fell +carelessly and yet almost affectionately upon the young man's +shoulder. + +"Perhaps," he said, quietly, "I am what you are doubtless thinking +me--something of a _poseur_. Perhaps I do like making a tax upon +your sober British rectitude. I will admit that the spirit of +adventure is in my heart; I will admit that there is in my blood +the desire to take from him who hath and give to him who hath not; +but, on the other hand, I have my standards, and I seriously do not +think that you would be risking very much if you accepted my +invitation to lunch to-day." + +Arnold held out his hand. + +"If I hesitate for a single moment," he replied frankly, "it is +because of my work here. However, as you say that Mrs. Weatherley +will be there, I will come." + +"We shall look forward to the pleasure, then," Sabatini concluded. +"Now I will leave you to go on with your money-coining. Au revoir!" + +He strolled gracefully out, pausing on his way through the clerk's +office to offer a courteous farewell to Mr. Jarvis. The great +automobile glided away. Arnold came back from the window and sat +down in front of his desk. Before his eyes was a pile of invoices, +in his brain a strange medley of facts and fancies. + +Mr. Jarvis came bustling in. + +"About those Canadian hams, Chetwode," he began,-- + +Arnold recognized the voice of his saviour. + +"We'll go into the matter at once," he declared, briskly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +A LUNCHEON-PARTY + + +It seemed to Arnold that he had passed, indeed, into a different +world as he followed Count Sabatini's austere looking butler across +the white stone hall into the cool dining-room, where the little +party which he had come to join was already at luncheon. Outside, an +unexpected heat seemed to have baked the streets and drained the +very life from the air. Here the blinds were closely drawn; the +great height of the room with its plain, faultless decorations, its +piles of sweet-smelling flowers, and the faint breeze that came +through the Venetian blinds, made it like a little oasis of coolness +and repose. The luncheon-party consisted of four people--Count +Sabatini himself, Lady Blennington, Fenella, and a young man whom +Arnold had seen once before, attached to one of the Legations. +Fenella held out both her hands. + +"I'm afraid I am late," Arnold said. + +"It is my fault for not mentioning the hour," Sabatini interposed. +"We are continental in our tastes and we like to breakfast early." + +"In any case, you would be forgiven," Fenella declared, "for this, +as you know, is our party of reconciliation." + +"What, have you two been quarreling?" Lady Blennington exclaimed. +"You don't deserve to have admirers, Fenella. You always treat them +badly. How is it you've never been to see me, Mr. Chetwode?" + +"Not because I have forgotten your kind invitation," Arnold replied, +taking the chair by Fenella's side which the butler was holding for +him. "Unfortunately, I am at work nearly every afternoon." + +"Mr. Chetwode is my husband's secretary now, you must remember," +Fenella remarked, "and during his absence he naturally finds a great +deal to do." + +"Well, I am sure I am only too glad," Lady Blennington said, "to +hear of a young man who does any work at all, nowadays. They mostly +seem to do nothing but hang about looking for a job. When you told +me," she continued, "that you were really in the city, I wasn't at +all sure that you were in earnest." + +Sabatini sighed. + +"I can assure you, Lady Blennington," he declared, "that so far as +my sex is represented here to-day, we are very strenuous people +indeed. Signor di Marito here carries upon his shoulders a burden, +just at the present moment, which few of the ambassadors would care +to have to deal with. Mr. Chetwode I have visited in his office, and +I can assure you that so far as his industry is concerned there is +no manner of doubt. As for myself--" + +Lady Blennington interrupted gayly. + +"Come," she said, "I believe it of these two others, if you insist, +but you are not going to ask us to believe that you, the +personification of idleness, are also among the toilers!" + +Sabatini looked at her reproachfully. + +"One is always misunderstood," he murmured. "This morning, as a +matter of fact, I have been occupied since daybreak." + +"Let us hear all about it," Lady Blennington demanded. + +"My energies have been directed into two channels," Sabatini +announced. "I have been making preparations for a possible journey, +and I have been trying to find a missing man." + +Arnold looked up quickly. Fenella paused with her glass raised to +her lips. + +"Who is the missing man?" Lady Blennington asked. + +"Mr. Weatherley," Sabatini replied. "We can scarcely call him that, +perhaps, but he has certainly gone off on a little expedition +without leaving his address." + +"Well, you amaze me!" Lady Blennington exclaimed. "I never thought +that he was that sort of a husband." + +"Did you make any discoveries?" asked Arnold. + +Sabatini shook his head. + +"None," he confessed. "As an investigator I was a failure. However, +I must say that I prosecuted my inquiries in one direction only. It +may interest you to know that I have come to the conclusion that Mr. +Weatherley's disappearance is not connected in any way with the +matters of which we spoke this morning." + +"Then it remains the more mysterious," declared Arnold. + +"Fenella, at any rate, is not disposed to wear widow's weeds," +remarked Lady Blennington. "Cheer up, dear, he'll come back all +right. Husbands always do. It is our other intimate friends who +desert us." + +Fenella laughed. + +"I am quite sure that you are right," she admitted. "I am not really +worried at all. It is a very annoying manner, however, in which to +go away, this,--a desertion most unceremonious. And now Andrea here +tells me that at any moment he may leave me, too." + +They all looked at him. He inclined his head gravely. + +"Nothing is decided," he said. "I have friends abroad who generally +let me know when things are stirring. There is a little cloud--it +may blow over or it may be the presage of a storm. In a day or two +we shall know." + +"You men are to be envied," Lady Blennington sighed, speaking for a +moment more seriously. "You have the power always to roam. You +follow the music of the world wherever you will. The drum beats, you +pull up your stakes, and away you go. But for us poor women, alas! +there is never any pulling up of the stakes. We, too, hear the +music--perhaps we hear it oftener than you--but we may not follow." + +"You have compensations," Sabatini remarked. + +"We have compensations, of course," Lady Blennington admitted, "but +what do they amount to, after all?" + +"You have also a different set of instincts," Signor di Marito +interposed. "There are other things in the life of a woman than to +listen always to the wander-music." + +"The question is as old as the hills," Fenella declared, "and it +bores me. I want some more omelette. Really, Andrea, your chef is a +treasure. If you get your summons, I think that I shall take him +over. Who will come to the theatre with me to-night? I have two +stalls for the _Gaiety_." + +"I can't," Lady Blennington remarked. "I am going to a foolish +dinner-party, besides which, of course, you don't want to be +bothered with a woman." + +"Nor can I," Sabatini echoed. "I have appointments all the evening." + +"I, alas!" Signor di Marito sighed, "must not leave my post for one +single moment. These are no days for theatre-going for my poor +countrymen." + +"Then the duty seems to devolve upon you," Fenella decided, smiling +toward Arnold. + +"I am sorry," he replied, "but I, too, seem to be unfortunate. I +could not possibly get away from the city in time." + +"Absurd!" she answered, a little sharply. "You are like a boy with a +new hobby. It is I who wish that you leave when you choose." + +"Apart from that," Arnold continued, "I am sorry, but I have an +engagement for the evening." + +She made a little grimace. + +"With your invalid friend?" + +Arnold assented. + +"I should not like to leave her alone this evening. She has been in +a great deal of trouble lately." + +There was a moment's silence. A slight frown had gathered on +Fenella's forehead. + +"I noticed that she was dressed wholly in black," she remarked. +"Perhaps she is in trouble because she has lost a relative lately?" + +"She appears to have no relatives in the world," Arnold declared, +"except an uncle, and he, I am afraid, is a little worse than +useless to her." + +Sabatini, who had been listening, leaned a little forward. + +"She lives entirely alone with the uncle of whom you have spoken?" +he asked. + +"Up till yesterday she has done so," Arnold answered gravely. "Just +at present, as you know, he has gone away. I only wish that I could +find him." + +"Going away, as you put it," Fenella murmured, "seems to be rather +the fashion just now." + +Arnold glanced up quickly but her expression was entirely innocent. +He looked across the table, however, and found that Sabatini was +watching him pensively. Fenella leaned towards him. She spoke almost +in a whisper, but her tone was cold, almost unfriendly. + +"I think," she said, "that with regard to that young woman you carry +chivalry too far." + +Arnold flushed slightly. Then Sabatini, with a little murmur of +words, changed the conversation. Once more it became entirely +general, and presently the meal drew towards a pleasant termination. +Fenella and Lady Blennington left together. At the moment of +departure, the former turned towards Arnold. + +"So I cannot induce you to become my escort for to-night?" she +asked. + +There was appeal, half humorous, half pathetic in her eyes. Arnold +hesitated, but only for a moment. + +"I am sorry," he said, "but indeed I shall not be able to leave the +office until after the time for the theatre." + +"You will not obey my orders about the office?" + +"I could not, in any case, leave Ruth alone this evening," he +replied. + +She turned away from him. The little gesture with which she refused +to see his hand seemed to be one of dismissal. + +"Signor di Marito, you will take us to the automobile, will you +not?" she said. "Perhaps we can drop you somewhere? Good-bye, +Andrea, and thank you very much for your charming luncheon. If the +message comes, you will telephone, I know?" + +Arnold lingered behind while Sabatini showed his guests to the door. +When he, too, would have left, however, his host motioned him to +resume his chair. + +"Sit down for a few minutes," he begged. "You have probably seen +enough of me for to-day, but I may be called away from England at +any moment and there is a question I want to ask you before I go." + +Arnold nodded. + +"You are really in earnest, then, about leaving?" he asked. + +"Assuredly," Sabatini replied. "I cannot tell you exactly how things +may go in my country, but if there is a rising against the reigning +house, a Sabatini will certainly be there. I have had some +experience in soldiering, and I have a following. It is true that I +am an exile, but I feel that my place is somewhere near the +frontier." + +Arnold glanced enviously at the man who lounged in the chair +opposite him. He seemed to carry even about his person a flavor from +the far-off land of adventures. + +"What I want to ask you is this," Sabatini said. "A few minutes ago +you declared that you were anxious to discover the whereabouts of +your little friend's uncle. Tell me why?" + +"I will tell you, with pleasure," Arnold answered. "You see, she is +left absolutely alone in the world. I do not grumble at the charge +of her, for when I was nearly starving she was kind to me, and we +passed our darkest days together. On the other hand, I know that she +feels it keenly, and I think it is only right to try and find out if +she has no relatives or friends who could possibly look after her." + +"It is perfectly reasonable," Sabatini confessed. "I can tell you +where to find Isaac Lalonde, if you wish." + +Arnold's little exclamation was one almost of dismay. + +"You know?" he cried. + +"Naturally," Sabatini admitted. "You have a tender conscience, my +young friend, and a very limited knowledge of the great necessities +of the world. You think that a man like Isaac Lalonde has no real +place in a wholesome state of society. You have some reason in what +you think, but you are not altogether right. In any case, this is +the truth. However much it may horrify you to know it, and +notwithstanding our recent differences of opinion, communications +have frequently taken place between the committee who are organizing +the outbreak in Portugal, among which you may number me, and the +extreme anarchists whom Isaac represents." + +"You would not really accept aid from such?" Arnold exclaimed. + +Sabatini smiled tolerantly. + +"There are many unworthy materials," he said, "which go to the +building of a great structure. Youth rebels at their use but age and +experience recognize their necessity. The anarchist of your +halfpenny papers and _Police News_ is not always the bloodthirsty +ruffian that you who read them are led to suppose. Very often he is +a man who strenuously seeks to see the light. It is not always his +fault if the way which is shown him to freedom must cross the rivers +of blood." + +Arnold moved uneasily in his chair. His host spoke with such quiet +conviction that the stock arguments which rose to his lips seemed +somehow curiously ineffective. + +"Nevertheless," he protested, "the philosophy of revolutions--" + +"We will not discuss it," Sabatini declared, with a smile. "You and +I need not waste our time in academic discussion. These things are +beside the mark. What I had to say to you is this. If you really +wish to speak with Isaac Lalonde, and will give me your word to keep +the knowledge of him to yourself, I can tell you where to find him." + +"I do wish to speak to him for the reasons I have told you," Arnold +replied. "If he were to disappear from the face of the earth, as +seems extremely probable at the present moment, Ruth would be left +without a friend in the world except myself." + +Sabatini wrote an address upon a slip of paper. + +"You will find him there," he announced. "Go slowly, for the +neighborhood is dangerous. Can I drop you anywhere?" + +Arnold shook his head. + +"Thank you," he said, "I must go straight back to the office. I will +take the tube from the corner." + +Sabatini escorted his guest to the door. As they stood there +together, looking down into the quiet street, he laid his hand upon +the young man's shoulder. + +"I will not say good-bye," he declared, "because, although I am +here waiting all the time, I do not believe that the hour has come +for me to go. It will be soon but not just yet. When we first met, I +thought that I should like to take you with me. I thought that the +life in what will become practically a new country, would appeal to +you. Since then I have changed my mind. I have thought of my own +career, and I have seen that it is not the life or career for a +young man to follow. The adventures of the worker in the cities are +a little grayer, perhaps, than those which come to the man who is +born a wanderer, but they lead home just as surely--perhaps more +safely. Au revoir!" + +He turned away abruptly. The door was softly closed. Arnold went +down the steps and set his face citywards. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +ISAAC IN HIDING + + +Arnold, as he neared the end of his journey, felt, indeed, that he +had found his way into some alien world. The streets through which, +after many directions, he had passed, had all been strange to him, +strange not only because of their narrowness, their poverty, their +ill flavor, but on account, also, of the foreign names above the +shops, the street cries, and the dark, unfamiliar aspects of the +people. After losing his way more than once, he discovered at last a +short street branching out of a narrow but populous thoroughfare. +There were no visible numbers, but counting the houses on the +left-hand side, and finding the door of the seventh open, he made +his way inside. The place was silent and seemed deserted. He climbed +the stairs to the second story and knocked at the door of the front +room. So far, although barely a hundred yards away was a street +teeming with human beings, he had not seen a soul in the place. + +His first knock remained unanswered. He tried again. This time he +heard a movement inside which he construed as an invitation to +enter. He threw open the door and stepped in. The blind was closely +drawn, and to his eyes, unaccustomed to the gloom, there seemed to +be no one in the place. Suddenly the fire of an electric torch +flashed into his eyes, a familiar voice from a distant corner +addressed him. + +"What the devil are you doing here?" + +The light was as suddenly turned off. Arnold could see now that the +man whom he had come to visit had barricaded himself behind an +upturned table in a distant corner of the room. + +"I want a word or two with you, Isaac," Arnold said. + +"Who told you where to find me?" + +"Count Sabatini." + +"Have you told any one else?" + +"No!" + +"Are you alone?" + +"Absolutely." + +Isaac came slowly out into the room. His appearance, if possible, +was a little more ghastly even than when Arnold had seen him last. +He was unshaven, and his eyes shone with the furtiveness of some +hunted animal. In his hand he was holding a murderous-looking +pistol. + +"Say what you want--be quick--and get away," Isaac muttered. "I am +not here to receive visitors--not your sort, any way. You understand +that?" + +"You seem to be prepared to receive some one in a most unpleasant +manner," Arnold said gravely. "Is that sort of thing worth while, +Isaac?" + +"Worth while!" + +There was a brief pause. Arnold, having asked his question, was +looking at his companion, half in horror, half in pity. Isaac, white +with passion, seemed unable for the moment to make any intelligible +reply. Then, drawing in his breath as though with an effort, he +walked past Arnold and stood for a moment on the threshold of the +door, listening intently. Satisfied, apparently, that there was +nothing to be heard save the usual street noises, he closed the door +softly and came back into the room. + +"You," he said to Arnold, "are one of the clods of the earth, to +whom it is not given to understand. You are one of those who would +fall before the carriages of the rich and hold out your hands for +their alms. You are one of those who could weep and weep and watch +the children die, wringing your hands, while the greedy ones of the +world stuff themselves at their costly restaurants. The world is +full of such as you. It is full, too, of many like myself, in whose +blood the fever burns, into whose brain the knowledge of things has +entered, in whose heart the seared iron burns." + +"That's all right for Hyde Park," Arnold declared, bluntly, "but do +you imagine you are going to help straighten the world by this sort +of thing?" + +"In my way, I am," Isaac snarled. "What do you know of it, you +smooth-faced, healthy young animal, comfortably born, comfortably +bred, falling always on your feet in comfortable fashion, with the +poison of comfort in your veins? You look at my pistol as an evil +thing, because it can spell the difference between life and death. I +will tell you what it represents to me. It represents my rebellion +and the rebellion of my class against what you choose to call here +law and order. Law and order are good enough things, but they have +become the tools with which the smug rich keep themselves in luxury +in the fat places of the world, while millions of others, gripping +vainly at the outside of life, fall off into the bottomless chasm." + +"It's the wrong method, Isaac," Arnold insisted, earnestly. + +Isaac threw out his hand--a little gesture, half of contempt, not +altogether without its touch of dignity. + +"This isn't any place for words," he said, "nor is it given to you +to be the champion of your class. Let me alone. Speak your errand +and be gone! No one can tell when the end may come. It will be +better for you, when it does, that you are not here." + +"I have come on account of your niece, whom you left penniless and +homeless," Arnold said sternly. "With your immense sympathy for +others, perhaps you can explain this little act of inattention on +your part?" + +Isaac's start of surprise was genuine enough. + +"I had forgotten her," he admitted curtly. "I saw the red fires that +night and since then there has been no moment to breathe or +think--nothing to do but get ready for the end. I had forgotten +her." + +"She is safe, for the present," Arnold told him. "My circumstances +have improved and I have taken a small flat in which there is a room +for her. This may do for the present, but Ruth, after all, is a +young woman. She is morbidly sensitive. However willing I may be, +and I am willing, it is not right that she should remain with me. I +have always taken it for granted that save for you she has no +relatives and no friends. Is this the truth? Is there no one whom +she has the right to ask for a home?" + +Isaac was silent. Some movements in the street below disturbed him, +and he walked with catlike tread to the window, peering through a +hole in the blind for several moments. When he was satisfied that +nothing unusual was transpiring, he came back. + +"Listen," he said hoarsely, "I am a dead man already in all but +facts. I can tell you nothing of Ruth's relatives. Better that she +starved upon the streets than found them. But there is her chance +still. My mind has been filled with big things and I had forgotten +it. Before we moved into Adam Street, the last doctor who saw Ruth +suggested an operation. He felt sure that it would be successful. It +was to cost forty guineas. I have saved very nearly the whole of +that money. It stands in her name at the Westminster Savings Bank. +If she goes there and proves her identity, she can get it. I saved +that money--God knows how!" + +"What is the name of the doctor?" Arnold asked. + +"His name was Heskell and he was at the London Hospital," Isaac +replied. "Now I have done with you. That is Ruth's chance--there is +nothing else I can do. Be off as quickly as you can. If you give +information as to my whereabouts, you will probably pay for it with +your life, for there are others besides myself who are hiding in +this house. Now go. Do you hear?" + +Arnold's anger against the man suddenly faded away. It seemed to +him, as he stood there, that he was but a product of the times, +fashioned by the grinding wheel of circumstance, a physical wreck, a +creature without love or life or hope. + +"Isaac," he said, "why don't you try and escape? Get away to some +other country, out onto the land somewhere. Leave the wrongs of +these others to come right with time. Work for your daily bread, +give your brain a rest." + +Isaac made no reply. Only his long, skinny forefinger shot out +toward the door. Arnold knew that he might just as well have been +talking to the most hopeless lunatic ever confined in padded room. + +"If this is to be farewell, Isaac," he continued, "let me at least +tell you this before I go. You are doing Ruth a cruel wrong. God +knows I am willing enough to take charge of her, but it's none the +less a brutal position for you to put her in. You have the chance, +if you will, to set her free. Think what her life has been up till +now. Have you ever thought of it, I wonder? Have you ever thought of +the long days she has spent in that attic when you have been away, +without books, with barely enough to eat, without companionship or +friends? These are the things to which you have doomed her by your +cursed selfishness. If she has friends who could take her away, and +you refuse to speak, then all I can say is that you deserve any fate +that may come to you." + +Isaac remained silent for several moments. His face was dark and +dogged. When he spoke, it was with reluctance. + +"Young man," he said, "every word which you have spoken has been in +my brain while I have lain here waiting for the end. A few hours ago +I slept and had a dream. When I awoke, I was weak. See here." + +He drew from his pocket two sheets of closely-written foolscap. + +"The story of Ruth's life is here," he declared. "I wrote it with a +stump of pencil on the back of this table. I wrote it, but I have +changed my mind, and I am going to tear it up." + +Arnold was light on his feet, with a great reach, and Isaac was +unprepared. In a moment the latter was on his back, and the soiled +sheets of foolscap were in Arnold's pocket. Isaac's fingers seemed +to hover upon the trigger of his pistol as he lay there, crouched +against the wall. + +"Don't be a fool!" Arnold cried, roughly. "You'll do no good by +killing me. The girl has a right to her chance." + +There were several seconds of breathless silence, during which it +seemed to Arnold that Isaac had made up and changed his mind more +than once. Then at last he lowered his pistol. + +"We'll call it chance," he muttered. "I never meant to write the +rubbish. Since you have got it, though, it is the truth. Do with it +what you will. There is one thing more. You know this man Sabatini?" + +"If you mean the Count Sabatini, it was he who gave me your +address," Arnold reminded him. + +Isaac smiled grimly. + +"Citizen Sabatini is all we know him by here. He knows well that to +a man with his aspirations, a man who desires to use as his tools +such as myself and my comrades, a title is an evil recommendation. +He came to us first, as a man and a brother,--he, Count Sabatini, +Marquis de Lossa, Chevalier de St. Jerome, Knight of the Holy Roman +Empire,--an aristocrat, you perceive, and one of the worst. Yet we +have trusted him." + +"I do not believe," Arnold exclaimed, "that Sabatini would betray +any one!" + +"I am not accusing him," Isaac said solemnly. "I simply hold that +he is not the man to lead a great revolutionary movement. It is for +that reason, among others, that I have rejected his advances. +Sabatini as president would mean very much the same thing as a king. +Will you give him a message from me?" + +"Yes," Arnold answered, "I will do that." + +"Tell him, if indeed he has the courage which fame has bestowed upon +him, to come here and bid me farewell. I have certain things to say +to him." + +"I will give him your message," Arnold promised, "but I shall not +advise him to come." + +A look of anger flashed in Isaac's face. The pistol which had never +left his grip was slowly raised, only to be lowered again. + +"Do as I say," he repeated. "Tell him to come. Perhaps I may have +more to say to him about that other matter than I choose to say to +you." + +"About Ruth?" + +"About Ruth," Isaac repeated, sternly. + +"You would trust a stranger," Arnold exclaimed, "with information +which you deny me--her friend?" + +Isaac waved him away. + +"Be off," he said, tersely. "I have queer humors sometimes lying +here waiting for the end. Don't let it be your fate to excite one of +them. You have had your escape." + +"What do you mean?" Arnold demanded. + +Isaac laughed hoarsely. + +"How many nights ago was it," he asked, "that you threw up a window +in the man Weatherley's house--the night Morris and I were there, +seeking for Rosario?" + +"I never saw you!" Arnold exclaimed. + +"No, but you saw Morris," Isaac continued. "What is more, you saw +him again on the stairs with me that night, and it very nearly cost +you your life. Lucky for you, young man, that you were not at +Hampstead the night when Morris went there to seek for you!" + +Arnold was speechless. + +"You mean that he was there that night looking for me?" he cried. + +"He hated you all," Isaac muttered, "you and the woman and Sabatini, +and he was a little mad--just a little mad. If he had found you all +there--" + +"Well?" Arnold interposed, breathlessly. + +Isaac shook his head. + +"Never mind!" + +"But I do mind," Arnold insisted. "I want to know about that night. +Was it in search of us--" + +Isaac held out his skinny hand. There was a dangerous glitter in his +eyes. + +"It is enough," he snarled. "I have no more to say about what is +past. Send me Sabatini and he shall hear news from me." + +Arnold retreated slowly towards the threshold. + +"If you will take the advice of a sane man," he said, "you will +throw that thing away and escape. If I can help--" + +Isaac was already creeping to his hiding-place. He turned around +with a contemptuous gesture. + +"There is no escape for me," he declared. "Every day the police draw +their circle closer. So much the better! When they come, they will +find me prepared! If you are still here in sixty seconds," he added, +"I will treat you as I shall treat them." + +Arnold closed the door and made his way into the street. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +SABATINI'S DAUGHTER + + +Sabatini, already dressed for the evening, his coat upon his arm, +paused only to light a cigarette and read once more the telegram +which he held between his fingers, before he left his house to step +into the automobile which was waiting outside. His servant entered +the room with his silk hat. + +"You will remember carefully my instructions, Pietro?" he said. + +"Assuredly, sir," the man answered. + +"If there is a telegram, any communication from the Embassy, or +telephone message, you will bring it to me yourself, at once, at +number 17, Grosvenor Square. If any one should call to see me, you +know exactly where I am to be found." + +"There is a young gentleman here now, sir," the man announced. "He +has just arrived." + +"The young gentleman who was here before, to-day?" Sabatini asked. + +"The same, Excellency." + +Sabatini laid down his coat. + +"You can show him in," he directed. "Wait for me outside." + +Arnold, who had come straight from the unknown world in which he +had found Isaac, was shown in immediately. Pietro closed the door +and withdrew. Sabatini looked inquiringly at his visitor. + +"You have seen Isaac?" he asked. + +"I have seen him," Arnold assented. + +"You bring me news?" + +"It is true," Arnold replied. "I bring news." + +Sabatini waited patiently. Arnold remained, for a moment, gloomily +silent. It was hard to know how to commence. + +"You will forgive my reminding you," Sabatini said quietly, "that I +am on the point of starting out to keep an engagement. I would not +mention it but in one respect London hostesses are exacting. There +are many liberties which are permitted here, but one must not be +late for dinner." + +Arnold's memory flashed back to the scene which he had just left--to +Isaac, the outcast, crouched beneath his barricade of furniture, +waiting in the darkness with his loaded pistol and murder in his +heart. Sabatini, calm and dignified in his rigidly correct evening +dress, his grace and good-looks, represented with curious +appositeness the other extreme of life. + +"I will not keep you long," Arnold began, "but there is something +which you must hear from me, and hear at once." + +"Assuredly," Sabatini murmured. "It is something connected with your +visit to this poor, misguided outcast. I am afraid there is nothing +we can do for him." + +"There is nothing any one can do for him," Arnold declared. "I went +to see him because, when he fled from his rooms and they were seized +by the police, his niece was left penniless and homeless. +Fortunately, the change in my own circumstances permitted me to +offer her a shelter--for the moment, at any rate. I have told you +something of this before but I am obliged to repeat it. You will +understand presently. It is of some importance." + +Sabatini bowed. + +"The young lady is still under your care?" he asked. + +"She is still with me," Arnold admitted. "I took two rooms not very +far away from here. I did it because it was the only thing to do, +but I can see now that as a permanent arrangement it will not +answer. Already, even, a shadow seems to have sprung up between us. +I am beginning to understand what it is. I have always looked upon +Ruth as being somewhat different from other women because of her +infirmity. It is dawning upon me now that, after all, the infirmity +counts for little. She is a woman, with a woman's sensibility and +all that goes with it. It troubles her to be living alone with me." + +A shadow of perplexity passed across Sabatini's face. This young man +was very much in earnest and spoke as though he had good reasons for +these explanations, yet the reasons themselves were not obvious and +the minutes were passing. + +"She seemed to me," he murmured, "to be a very charming and +distinguished young lady." + +"I am glad to hear you say so," Arnold declared. "To-day I went to +Isaac that he might tell me whether there were not some relatives of +hers in the world to whom she could apply for help and shelter. I +pointed out that he had left Ruth alone and penniless; that although +the charge of her was nothing but a pleasure to me, it was not +fitting that I should undertake it. I insisted upon his telling me +the name of at least one of her relatives, so that I might let them +know of her existence and beg for a home for her." + +"It was a reasonable request," Sabatini remarked. "I trust that the +fellow recognized the situation?" + +"He had already written out Ruth's history," Arnold said, his voice +shaking a little. "He had written it out in pencil on a couple of +sheets of foolscap. He gave them to me to bring away with me. I read +them coming up. I am here now to repeat their purport to you." + +Sabatini gave a little nod of interest. His glance at the clock was +apologetic. He had thrown his overcoat once more upon his arm, and, +with his white-gloved hand resting upon the back of a chair, stood +listening in an attitude of courteous ease. + +"I shall be glad to hear the story," he said. "I must admit that +although I only met the young lady for those few minutes at Bourne +End, I found myself most interested in her. I feel sure that she is +charming in every way. Please go on." + +"If Isaac's story is true," Arnold continued slowly, "you should +indeed be interested in her." + +Sabatini's eyebrows were slightly raised. + +"I scarcely understand," he murmured. "I--pray go on." + +"According to his story," Arnold said, "Ruth Lalonde is your +daughter." + +Sabatini stood perfectly motionless. The slight expression of tired +attention with which he had been listening, had faded from his face. +In the late sunshine which still filled the room, there was +something almost corpse-like in the pallor of his cheeks, his +unnatural silence. When he spoke, his words came slowly. + +"Is this a jest?" + +"Isaac's story is that you married her mother, who was his sister, +in Paris, nineteen and a half years ago. Her name was Cecile Ruth +Leneveu, and she was acting at one of the theatres. She was really +Isaac's half-sister. His father had brought him from Paris when he +was only a child, and married again almost at once. According to his +story, Ruth's mother lived with you for two years--until, in fact, +you went to Chili to take command of the troops there, at the time +of the revolution. When you returned, she was dead. You were told +that she had given birth to a daughter and that she, too, had died." + +"That is true," Sabatini admitted slowly. "I came back because of +her illness, but I was too late." + +"The child did not die," Arnold continued. "She was brought up by +Isaac in a small convent near Rouen, where she remained until two +years ago, when he was forced to come to England. He brought her +with him as, owing to her accident, she was unable to take the post +of teacher for which she had been intended, and the convent where +she was living was unexpectedly broken up. Since then she has lived +a sad life with him in London. His has been simply a hand-to-mouth +existence." + +"But I do not understand why I was kept in ignorance," Sabatini +declared. "Why did he not appeal to me for help? Why was my +daughter's existence kept a secret from me?" + +"Because Isaac is half a fanatic and half a madman," Arnold replied. +"You represent to him the class he loathes, the class he has hated +all his life, and against which he has waged ceaseless war. He hated +your marriage to his sister, and his feelings were the more +embittered because it suited you to keep it private. He has nursed a +bitter feeling against you all his life for this reason." + +Sabatini turned stiffly away. He walked to the window, standing for +a moment or two with his back to Arnold, looking out into the quiet +street. Then he came back. + +"I must go to this man at once," he said. "You can take me there?" + +"I can take you," Arnold assented, doubtfully, "and I have even a +message from him asking you to visit him, but I warn you that he is +in a dangerous mood. I found him the solitary occupant of a +miserable room in the back street of a quarter of London which +reminded me more than anything else of some foreign city. He has +cleared the furniture from the room, reared a table up on end, and +is crouching behind it with a Mauser pistol in his hand and a box of +cartridges by his side. My own belief is that he is insane." + +"It is of no account, that," Sabatini declared. "One moment." + +He touched the bell for his servant, who entered almost immediately. + +"You will take a cab to 17, Grosvenor Square, Pietro," he directed. +"Present my compliments to the lady of the house, and tell her that +an occurrence of the deepest importance deprives me of the honor of +dining to-night." + +"Very good, your Excellency." + +Sabatini turned to Arnold. + +"Come," he said simply, "my automobile is waiting. Will you direct +the man?" + +They started off citywards. Sabatini, for a time, sat like a man in +a dream, and Arnold, respecting his companion's mood, kept silent. +There seemed to be something unreal about their progress. To Arnold, +with this man by his side, the amazing story which he had gathered +from those ill-written pages, with their abrupt words and brutal +cynicism, still ringing in his brain, their errand seemed like some +phantasmal thing. The familiar streets bore a different aspect; the +faces of the people whom they passed struck him always with a +curious note of unreality. Ruth was Sabatini's daughter! His brain +refused to grasp so amazing a fact. Yet curiously enough, as he +leaned back among the cushions, the likeness was there. The turn of +the lips, the high forehead, the flawless delicacy of her oval face, +in the light of this new knowledge were all startlingly reminiscent +of the man who sat by his side now in a grim, unbroken silence. The +wonder of it all remained unabated, but his sense of apprehension +grew. + +Presently Sabatini began to talk, rousing himself as though with an +effort, and asking questions concerning Ruth, about her accident, +her tastes. He heard of the days of her poverty with a little +shiver. Arnold touched lightly upon these, realizing how much his +companion was suffering. Their progress grew slower and slower as +they passed into the heart of this strange land, down the narrow yet +busy thoroughfare which seemed to be the main artery of the +neighborhood. Strange names were above the shop-windows, strange +articles were displayed behind them. Stalls were set out in the +streets. Men and women, driven by the sulphurous heat to seek air, +leaned half-dressed from the windows, or sat even upon the pavement +in front of their houses. More than once they were obliged to come +to a standstill owing to the throngs of loiterers. As they neared +the last corner, Arnold leaned out and his heart sank. In front he +could see the crowd kept back by a line of police. + +"We are too late!" he exclaimed. "They have found him! They must be +making the arrest even now!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +CLOSE TO TRAGEDY + + +The two men stood up in the automobile. Sabatini's face had +darkened. He leaned over and said something to the chauffeur. They +drove on through the press of people, who gave way sullenly. A +police inspector came to the side of the car. + +"This way is blocked for the present, sir," he said to Sabatini. "If +you want to get past, you had better take one of the turnings to the +left." + +"My destination is just here," Sabatini replied. "Tell me, what is +the cause of this disturbance?" + +"Some of our men have gone to make an arrest in the street there, +sir," the inspector replied, "and we are having some trouble." + +"Is it the man Isaac Lalonde whom you are after?" Sabatini asked. + +"That is so, sir," the inspector admitted. "A desperate scoundrel he +is, too. He's shot at and wounded all three of the policemen who +entered the house, and he lies crouching before the window, +threatening to shoot any one who passes up the street." + +"Who is in charge here?" Sabatini inquired. + +"Chief Inspector Raynham," the man replied, pointing to an officer +in plain uniform who was standing a few yards away. + +"Take me to him," Sabatini directed. "I may be of use in this +matter." + +The crowd opened to let them pass through. They were on the corner +of the pavement now, and the street to their right was empty. There +was a disposition on the part of the people to hug the wall and peer +only round the corner, for they were within easy range of the grimy +window opposite. + +"Mr. Inspector," Sabatini said, "I am Count Sabatini, a nobleman of +the country from which that man comes. I think, perhaps, that if you +will allow me to make the effort he will listen to me. I may be able +to save the loss of useful lives." + +The chief inspector saluted. + +"I shouldn't recommend you to go near him, sir," he declared. "They +say he's an out-and-out anarchist, the leader of one of the most +dangerous gangs in London. We've got the back of the house covered +and he can't escape, but he's shot three of our men who tried to get +at him. The chief of police is on his way down, and we are waiting +for instructions from him." + +Sabatini's lips parted in the faintest of smiles. One could well +have imagined that he would have devised some prompter means to have +secured this man if he had been in command. + +"You will not forbid my making the attempt, I trust?" he said, +courteously. "I do so at my own risk, of course." + +The inspector hesitated. Sabatini, with a sudden swing of his +powerful arm, made his way into the front rank. Arnold clutched at +him. + +"Don't go," he begged. "It isn't worth while. You hear, he has shot +three policemen already. You can't save him--you can't help him." + +Sabatini turned round with an air of gentle superiority. + +"My young friend," he said, "do you not understand that Isaac will +not be taken alive? There is a question I must ask him before he +dies." + +The inspector stepped forward--afterwards he said that it was for +the purpose of stopping Sabatini. He was too late, however. The +crowd thronging the end of the street, and the hundreds of people +who peered from the windows, had a moment of wonderful excitement. +One could almost hear the thrill which stirred from their throats. +Across the empty street, straight towards the window behind which +the doomed man lay, Sabatini walked, strangest of figures amidst +those sordid surroundings, in his evening clothes, thin black +overcoat, and glossy silk hat. Step by step he approached the door. +He was about three yards from the curbstone when the window behind +which Isaac was crouching was suddenly smashed, and Isaac leaned +out. The crowd, listening intently, could hear the crash of falling +glass upon the pavement. They had their view of Isaac, too--a wan, +ghostlike figure, with haggard cheeks and staring eyes, eyes which +blazed out from between the strands of black hair. + +"Stand where you are," he shouted, and the people who watched saw +the glitter of the setting sun upon the pistol in his hand. Sabatini +looked up. + +"Isaac Lalonde," he called out, "you know who I am?" + +"I know who you are," they heard him growl,--"Count Sabatini, +Marquis de Lossa, Chevalier de St. Jerome, Knight of the Holy Roman +Empire, aristocrat, blood-sucker of the people." + +Sabatini shrugged his shoulders slightly. + +"As to that," he answered firmly, "one may have opinions. My hand at +least is free from bloodshed. You are there with nothing but death +before you. I am here to ask a question." + +"Ask it, then," the man at the window muttered. "Can't you see that +the time is short?" + +"Is it true, this message which you sent me by that young man? Is it +my daughter, the child of Cecile, whom you have kept from me all +these years?" + +Isaac leaned further forward out of the window. Every one in the +crowd could see him now. There were a few who began to shout. Every +one save Sabatini himself seemed conscious of his danger. Sabatini, +heedless or unconscious of it, stood with one foot upon the +curbstone, his face upturned to the man with whom he was talking. + +"Ay, it is true!" Isaac shouted. "She is your daughter, child of the +wife whom you hid away, ashamed of her because she came from the +people and you were an aristocrat. She is your child, but you will +never see her!" + +Then those who watched had their fill of tragedy. They saw the puff +of smoke, the sharp, discordant report, the murderous face of the +man who leaned downward. They saw Sabatini throw up his hands to +heaven and fall, a crumpled heap, into the gutter. Isaac, with the +pistol to his own forehead, overbalanced himself in the act of +pulling the trigger, and came crashing down, a corpse, on to the +pavement. The crowd broke loose, but Arnold was the first to raise +Sabatini. A shadow of the old smile parted his whitening lips. He +opened his eyes. + +"It's a rotten death, boy," he whispered hoarsely; "a cur's bullet, +that. Look after her for me. I'd rather--I'd rather hear the drums +beating." + +Arnold gripped him by the shoulders. + +"Hold on to yourself, man!" he gasped. "There's a doctor +coming--he's here already. Hold on to yourself, for all our sakes! +We want you--Ruth will want you!" + +Sabatini smiled very faintly. He was barely conscious. + +"I'd rather have heard the drums," he muttered again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +MR. WEATHERLEY RETURNS + + +It was twenty minutes past nine on a Saturday morning when the +wonderful thing happened. Precisely at his accustomed hour, in his +accustomed suit of gray clothes, and with his silk hat a little on +the back of his head, Mr. Weatherley walked into his office, pausing +as usual to knock the ash from his cigar before he entered the +clerks' counting house. Twelve young men gazed at him in frank and +undiluted amazement. As though absolutely unconscious of anything +unusual, Mr. Weatherley grunted his "Good morning!" and passed on +into the private room. Arnold and Mr. Jarvis were busy sorting the +letters which had arrived by the morning's post. Mr. Weatherley +regarded them with an expression of mingled annoyance and surprise. + +"What the devil are you doing, opening the letters before I get +here?" he exclaimed. "I'm punctual, am I not? Twenty-two minutes +past nine to the tick. Get out of my chair, Jarvis!" + +Mr. Jarvis rose with a promptitude which was truly amazing, +considering that a second ago he had been sitting there as though +turned to stone. Mr. Weatherley was disposed to be irritable. + +"What on earth are you both staring at?" he asked. "Nothing wrong +with my appearance, is there? You get out into the warehouse, +Jarvis, and wait until you're sent for. Chetwode, go and sit down at +your desk. I'll be ready to dictate replies to these as soon as I've +glanced them through." + +Mr. Jarvis made a slow retreat towards the door. Every now and then +he turned and looked back over his shoulder. + +"You will allow me to say, sir," he faltered, "that I--that we all +are glad to see you back." + +"See me back?" Mr. Weatherley repeated, frowning heavily. "What the +devil do you mean, sir? Why, I was here till nearly six last +evening, straightening out the muddle you'd got Coswell's account +into." + +Mr. Jarvis withdrew precipitately, closing the door behind him. Mr. +Weatherley glanced across the room to where Arnold was standing. + +"I'm hanged if I can understand Jarvis lately," he said. "The fellow +seems off his head. See me back, indeed! Talks as though I'd been +away for a holiday." + +Arnold opened his lips and closed them again without speech. Mr. +Weatherley took up the letters and began to read them, at first in +silence. Presently he began to swear. + +"Anything wrong, sir?" Arnold asked. + +"Has every one taken leave of their senses?" Mr. Weatherley +demanded, in a startled tone. "These can't be this morning's +letters. They're all about affairs I know nothing of. They're +dated--yes, they're all dated July 1. I was here yesterday--I +remember signing the cheques--May 4, it was. What the--" + +He stopped short. The office boy had performed his duty. Opposite +to him stood the great calendar recording the date--July 2 stared +him in the face. Mr. Weatherley put his hand to his forehead. + +"Come here, Chetwode, quickly," he begged. + +Arnold hurried over towards his employer. Mr. Weatherley had lost +flesh and there were bags under his eyes. His appearance now was the +appearance of a man who has received some terrifying shock. His +hands clasped the sides of his chair. + +"I'm all right, Chetwode?" he gasped. "I haven't been ill or +anything? This isn't a nightmare? The office seems all changed. +You've moved the safe. The letters--I can't understand the letters! +Give me the Day Book, quick." + +Arnold passed it to him silently. Mr. Weatherley turned over the +pages rapidly. At May 4, he stopped. + +"Yes, yes! I remember this!" he exclaimed. "Twenty barrels of +apples, Spiers & Pond. Fifty hams to Coswell's. I remember this. But +what--" + +His finger went down the page. He turned over rapidly, page after +page. The entries went on. They stopped at June 30. He shrank back +in his chair. + +"Have I been ill, Chetwode?" he muttered. + +Arnold put his arm upon his employer's shoulder. + +"Not exactly ill, sir," he said, "but you haven't been here for some +time. You went home on May 4--we've none of us seen you since." + +There was a silence. Very slowly Mr. Weatherley began to shake his +head. He seemed suddenly aged. + +"Sit down, Chetwode--sit down quickly," he ordered, in a curious, +dry whisper. "You see, it was like this," he went on, leaning over +the table. "I heard a noise in the room and down I came. He was +hiding there behind a curtain, but I saw him. Before I could shout +out to the servants, he had me covered with his revolver. I suppose +I'm not much to look at in a black tie and dress coat, wrong thing +altogether, I know,--but Fenella was out so it didn't really matter. +Anyway, he took me for the butler. 'It isn't you I want,' he said, +'it's your mistress and the others.' I stared at him and backed +toward the door. 'If you move from where you are,' he went on, +dropping his voice a little, 'I shall shoot you! Go and stand over +in that corner, behind me. It's Mrs. Weatherley I want. Now listen. +There's a ten-pound note in my waistcoat pocket. I'll give it to you +to go and fetch her. Tell her that an old friend has called and is +waiting to see her. You understand? If you go and don't bring her +back--if you give the alarm--you'll wake up one night and find me by +your bedside, and you'll be sorry.' You see, I remember every word +he said, Chetwode--every word." + +"Go on, please!" Arnold exclaimed, breathlessly. + +Mr. Weatherley nodded slowly. + +"Yes," he said, "I shall tell you all about it. I remember every +word that was spoken; I can see the man at this moment. I didn't +move from where I was, but I was a little annoyed at being taken for +Groves, and I told him so. 'If you're a burglar,' I said, 'you've +found your way into trouble. I'm the master of the house and Mrs. +Weatherley is my wife. Perhaps you'll tell me now what you want with +her?' He looked at me and I suppose he decided that I was telling +the truth. 'Your wife,' he said slowly, 'is looking for trouble. I'm +not sure that it hasn't come. You know she was a friend of +Rosario--Rosario the Jew?' 'I know that they were acquainted,' I +said. He laughed then, and I began to hate the fellow, Chetwode. +'It was your wife,' he said, 'for whom Rosario wanted that title. +She could have stopped him--' Then he broke off, Chetwode. 'But I +don't suppose you understand these things,' he said. 'You'd better +just understand this, though. I am here to have a little explanation +with Mrs. Weatherley. I have a message for her, and she's got to +hear it from my own lips. When I've finished with her, I want her +brother, and when I've finished with him, I want the young man who +was here the other night. It's no good saying he's not here now, +because I saw him start.'" + +Mr. Weatherley paused and felt his forehead. + +"All the time, Chetwode," he went on, "I was watching the fellow, +and it began to dawn upon me that he was there to do her some +mischief. I didn't understand what it was all about but I could see +it in his face. He was an ill-looking ruffian. I remembered then +that Fenella had been frightened by some one hanging about the +house, more than once. Well, there he was opposite to me, Chetwode, +and by degrees I'd been moving a little nearer to him. He was after +mischief--I was sure of it. What should you have done, Chetwode?" + +"I am not quite sure," Arnold answered. "What did you do?" + +"We're coming to that," Mr. Weatherley declared, leaning a little +forward. "We're coming to that. Now in that open case, close to +where I was, my wife had some South American curios. There was a +funny wooden club there. The end was quite as heavy as any lead. I +caught hold of it and rushed in upon him. You see, Chetwode, I was +quite sure that he meant mischief. If Fenella had come in, he might +have hurt her." + +"Exactly," Arnold agreed. "Go on, sir." + +"Well, I gripped the club in my right hand," Mr. Weatherley +explained, seizing a ruler from the table, "like this, and I ran in +upon him. I took him rather by surprise--he hadn't expected anything +of the sort. He had one shot at me and missed. I felt the bullet go +scorching past my cheek--like this." + +Mr. Weatherley struck the side of his face sharply with the flat of +his hand. + +"He had another go at me but it was too late,--I was there upon him. +He held out his arm but I was too quick. I didn't seem to hit very +hard the first time but the club was heavy. His foot slipped on the +marble hearthstone and he went. He fell with a thud. Have you ever +killed a man, Chetwode?" + +"Never, sir," Arnold answered, his voice shaking a little. + +"Well, I never had before," Mr. Weatherley went on. "It really seems +quite amazing that that one blow right on the head should have done +it. He lay there quite still afterwards and it made me sick to look +at him. All the time, though, I kept on telling myself that if I had +not been there he would have hurt Fenella. That kept me quite cool. +Afterwards, I put the club carefully back in the case, pushed him a +little under the sofa, and then I stopped to think for a moment. I +was quite clever, Chetwode. The window was open through which the +man had come, so I locked the door on the inside, stepped out of the +window, came in at the front door with my latchkey, crept upstairs, +undressed quickly and got into bed. The funny part of it all was, +Chetwode," he concluded, "that nobody ever really found the body." + +"You don't suppose that you could have dreamed it all, do you?" +Arnold asked. + +Mr. Weatherley laughed contemptuously. + +"What an absurd idea!" he exclaimed. "What a perfectly absurd idea! +Besides, although it did disappear, they came up and told me that +there was a man lying in the boudoir. You understand now how it all +happened," he went on. "It seemed to me quite natural at the time. +Still, when the morning came I realized that I had killed a man. +It's a horrid thing to kill a man, Chetwode!" + +"Of course it is, sir," Arnold said, sympathetically. "Still, I +don't see what else you could have done." + +Mr. Weatherley beamed. + +"I am glad to hear you say that, Chetwode," he declared, "very glad. +Still, I didn't want to go to prison, you know, so a few days +afterwards I went away. I meant to hide for quite a long time. I--I +don't know what I'm doing back here." + +He looked around the office like a trapped animal. + +"I didn't mean to come back yet, Chetwode!" he exclaimed. "Don't +leave me! Do you hear? Don't leave me!" + +"Only for one second, sir," Arnold replied, taking an invoice from +the desk. "They are wanting this in the warehouse." + +Arnold stepped rapidly across to Mr. Jarvis's desk. + +"Telephone home for his wife to come and bring a doctor," he +ordered. "Quick!" + +"He's out of his mind!" Jarvis gasped. + +"Stark mad," Arnold agreed. + +When he re-entered the office, Mr. Weatherley was sitting muttering +to himself. Arnold came over and sat opposite to him. + +"Mrs. Weatherley is calling round presently, sir," he announced. +"You'll be glad to see her again." + +Mr. Weatherley went deadly pale. + +"Does she know?" he moaned. + +"She knows that some one was hurt," Arnold said. "As a matter of +fact," he continued, "I don't think the man could have been dead. We +were all out of the room for about five minutes, and when we came +back he was gone. I think that he must have got up and walked away." + +"You don't think that I murdered him, then?" Mr. Weatherley +inquired, anxiously. + +"Not you," Arnold assured him. "You stopped his hurting Mrs. +Weatherley, though." + +Mr. Weatherley sighed. + +"I should like to have killed him," he admitted, simply. "Fenella +and Sabatini, too, her brother,--they both laugh at me. They're a +little inclined to be romantic and they think I'm a queer sort of a +stick. I could never make out why she married me," he went on, +confidentially. "Of course, they were both stoneybroke at the time +and I put up a decent bit of money, but it isn't money, after all, +that buys a woman like Fenella." + +"I'm sure she will be very pleased to see you again, sir," Arnold +said. + +"Do you think she will, Chetwode? Do you think she will?" Mr. +Weatherley demanded, anxiously. "Has she missed me while I have +been--where the devil have I been, Chetwode? You must tell me--tell +me quick! She'll be here directly and she'll want to know. I can't +remember. It was a long street and there was a public-house at the +corner, and I had a job somewhere, hadn't I, stacking cheeses? Look +here, Chetwode, you must tell me all about it. You're my private +secretary. You ought to know everything of that sort." + +"I'll make it all right with Mrs. Weatherley," Arnold promised. "We +can't go into all these matters now." + +"Of course not--of course not," Mr. Weatherley agreed. "You're quite +right, Chetwode. A time for everything, eh? How's the little lady +you brought down to Bourne End?" + +"She's very well, thank you, sir," Arnold replied. + +"Now it's a queer thing," Mr. Weatherley continued, "but only +yesterday--or was it the day before--I was trying to think whom she +reminded me of. It couldn't have been my brother-in-law, could it, +Chetwode. Did you ever fancy that she was like Sabatini?" + +"I had noticed it, sir," Arnold admitted, with a little start. +"There is a likeness." + +"I'm glad you agree with me," Mr. Weatherley declared, approvingly. +"Splendid fellow, Sabatini," he continued,--"full of race to his +finger-tips. Brave as a lion, too, but unscrupulous. He'd wring a +man's neck who refused to do what he told him. Yet do you know, +Chetwode, he wouldn't take money from me? He was desperately hard up +one day, I know, and I offered him a cheque, but he only shook his +head. 'You can look after Fenella,' he said. 'That's all you've got +to do. One in the family is enough.' The night after, he played +baccarat with Rosario and he won two thousand pounds. Clever +fellow--Sabatini. I wish I wasn't so frightened of him. You know the +sort of feeling he gives me, Chetwode?" Mr. Weatherley continued. +"He always makes me feel that I'm wearing the wrong clothes or doing +the wrong thing. I'm never really at my ease when he's about. But I +like him--I like him very much indeed." + +Arnold had turned a little away. He was beginning to feel the strain +of the situation. + +"I wish Fenella would come," Mr. Weatherley wandered on. "I don't +seem to be able to get on with my work this morning, since you told +me she was coming down. Queer thing, although I was with her last +evening, you know, Chetwode, I feel, somehow, as though I'd been +away from her for weeks and weeks. I can't remember exactly how +long--there's such a buzzing in my head when I try. What do you do +when you have a buzzing in your head, Chetwode?" + +"I generally try and rest in an easy-chair," Arnold replied. + +"I'll try that, too," Mr. Weatherley decided, rising to his feet. +"It's a--most extraordinary thing, Chetwode, but my knees are +shaking. Hold me up--catch hold of me, quick!" + +Arnold half carried him to the easy-chair. The horn of the +automobile sounded outside. + +"Mrs. Weatherley is here, sir," Arnold whispered. + +Mr. Weatherley opened his eyes. + +"Good!" he murmured. "Let me sit up." + +There was a moment's pause. Arnold moved to the door and held it +open. They heard the swish of her skirts as she came through the +outer office, and the heavier footsteps of the doctor who followed. +Mr. Weatherley tried vainly to rise to his feet. He held out his +arms. Fenella hastened towards him. + +"Fenella, I couldn't help it," her husband gasped. "I had to kill +him--he told me he was waiting there for you. My hands are quite +clean now. Chetwode told me that he got up and walked away, but +that's all nonsense. I struck him right over the skull." + +She fell on her knees by his side. + +"You dear, brave man," she murmured. "I believe you saved my life." + +He smiled. His face was suddenly childlike. He was filled with an +infinite content. + +"I think," he said, "that I should like--to go home now--if this +other gentleman and Chetwode will kindly help me out. You see, I +haven't been here since May 4, and to-day is July 2. I think I must +have overslept myself. And that idiot Jarvis was opening the letters +when I arrived! Yes, I'm quite ready." + +They helped him out to the carriage. He stepped in and took his +usual place without speaking again. The car drove off, Fenella +holding his hand, the doctor sitting opposite. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +COUNTERCLAIMS + + +There was nothing about their attitude or appearance which indicated +the change. Their chairs were so close together that they almost +touched. Her white, ringless hand lay in his. Through the wide-open +window of their tiny sitting-room they looked down upon the river as +they had sat and watched it so many evenings before. Yet the change +was unmistakable. Arnold no longer guessed at it--he felt it. The +old days of their pleasant comradeship had gone. There were reserves +in everything she said. Sometimes she shrank from him almost as +though he were a stranger. The eyes that grew bright and still +danced with pleasure at his coming, were almost, a moment later, +filled with apprehension as she watched him. + +"Tell me again," he begged, "what the doctor really said! It sounds +too good to be true." + +"So I thought," she agreed, "but I haven't exaggerated a thing. He +assured me that there was no risk, no pain, and that the cure was +certain. I am to go to the hospital in three weeks' time." + +"You don't mind it?" + +"Why should I?" she answered. "The last time," she continued, "it +was in France. I remember the white stone corridors, the white room, +and the surgeons all dressed in white. Do you know, they say that I +shall be out again in a fortnight." + +He nodded. + +"I can see you already," he declared, "with a gold-headed stick and +a fascinating limp like Marguerite de Vallieres." + +She smiled very faintly but said nothing. Somehow, it was hard to +make conversation. Ruth was unusually pale, even for her. The eyes +which followed that line of yellow lights were full of trouble. + +"Tell me," he begged presently, "you have something on your mind, I +am sure. There is nothing you are keeping from me?" + +"Have I not enough," she asked, "to make me anxious?" + +"Naturally," he admitted, "and yet, after all, you have only seen +your father once in your life." + +"But I am sure that I could have loved him so much," she murmured. +"He seems to have come and gone in a dream." + +"This morning's report was more hopeful," he reminded her. "There is +every chance that he may live." + +"All the time," she answered, fervently, "I am praying that he may. +If he treated my mother badly, I am sure that he has suffered. I +can't quite forget, either," she went on, "although that seems +selfish, that when I come out of the hospital, even if all goes +well, I may still be homeless." + +He leaned over her. + +"Ruth," he exclaimed, "what do you mean?" + +"You know," she answered, simply. "You must know." + +His heart began to beat more quickly. He turned his head but she was +looking away. He could see only the curve of her long eyelashes. It +seemed to him strange then that he had never noticed the likeness to +Sabatini before. Her mouth, her forehead, the carriage of her head, +were all his. He leaned towards her. There was something stirring in +his heart then, something throbbing there, which seemed to bring +with it a cloud of new and bewildering emotions. The whole world was +slipping away. Something strange had come into the room. + +"Ruth," he whispered, "will you look at me for a moment?" + +She kept her head turned away. + +"Don't!" she pleaded. "Don't talk to me just now. I can't bear it, +Arnold." + +"But I have something to say to you," he persisted. "I have +something new, something I must say, something that has just come to +me. You must listen, Ruth." + +She held out her hand feverishly. + +"Please, Arnold," she begged, "I don't want to hear--anything. I +know how kind you are and how generous. Just now--I think it is the +heat--be still, please. I can't bear anything." + +Her fingers clutched his and yet kept him away. Every moment he was +more confident of this thing which had come to him. A strange +longing was filling his heart. The old days when he had kissed her +carelessly upon the forehead seemed far enough away. Then, in that +brief period of silence which seemed to him too wonderful to break, +there came a little tap at the door. They both turned their heads. + +"Come in," Arnold invited. + +There was a moment's hesitation. Then the door was opened. Fenella +entered. Arnold sprang to his feet. + +"Mrs. Weatherley!" he exclaimed. + +She smiled at him with all her old insolent grace. + +"Since when?" she demanded. "Fenella, if you please." + +She was more simply dressed than usual, in a thin, black gown and +black picture hat, and there were shadows under her eyes. No one +could look at her and fail to know that she was suffering. She came +across to Ruth. + +"My brother is the dearest thing in life to me," she said. "He is +all that I have left to me belonging to my own world. All these days +I have spent at his bedside, except when they have sent me away. +This evening I have come to see you. You are his child, Ruth." + +Ruth turned her head slowly. + +"Yes," she murmured, half fearfully. + +"When Arnold brought you to Bourne End," Fenella continued, "for one +moment I looked at you and I wondered. You seemed, even then, to +remind me of some one who had existed in the past. I know now who it +was. You have something of Andrea's air, but you are very like your +mother, Ruth." + +"You knew her?" Ruth asked. + +"Very slightly," Fenella replied. "She was a very clever actress and +I saw her sometimes upon the stage. Sometimes I think that Andrea +did not treat her well, but that was the way of his world. Assuredly +he never treated her badly, or you and I would not be here together +now." + +"I am afraid that you are sorry," Ruth said, timidly. + +Fenella laid her hand almost caressingly upon the girl's shoulder. + +"You need fear nothing of the sort," she assured her. "Why should I +be sorry? You are something that will remind me of him, something I +shall always be glad to have near me. You can guess why I have +come?" + +Ruth made no answer for a moment. Fenella laughed, a little +imperiously. + +"You poor child!" she exclaimed. "You cannot think that since I know +the truth I could leave you here for a single second? We can fetch +your clothes any time. To-night you are coming home with me." + +Ruth gazed at her with straining face. + +"Home?" she murmured. + +"But naturally," Fenella replied. "You are my brother's child and I +am a lonely woman. Do you think that I could leave you here for a +single second? Arnold has some claims, I know," she continued. "He +can come and see you sometimes. Do not be afraid," she went on, her +voice suddenly softening. "I shall try to be kind to you. I have +been a very selfish person all my life. I think it will be good for +me to have some one to care for. Arnold, please to go and ring for +the lift. Now that I have two invalids to think about, I must not be +away for long." + +He looked at Ruth for a moment. Then he obeyed her. When he +returned, Ruth was standing up, leaning upon Fenella's arm. She held +out her other hand to Arnold. + +"You will help me down, please?" she begged. + +It was a day of new emotions for Arnold. He was conscious suddenly +of a fierce wave of jealousy, of despair. She was going, and +notwithstanding the half pathetic, half appealing smile with which +she held out her hands, she was happy to go! Fenella saw his +expression and laughed in his face. + +"Arnold looks at me as though I were a thief," she declared, +lightly, "and I have only come to claim my own. If you behave very +nicely, Arnold, you can come and see us just as often as you +please." + +It was all over in a few minutes. The automobile which had been +standing in the street below was gone. Arnold was alone upon the +sofa. The book which she had been reading, her handkerchief, a bowl +of flowers which she had arranged, an odd glove, were lying on the +table by his side. But Ruth had gone. The little room seemed cold +and empty. He gripped the window-sill, and, sitting where they had +sat together only a few minutes ago, he looked down at the curving +lights. The old dreams surged up into his brain. The treasure ship +had come indeed, the treasure ship for Ruth. Almost immediately the +egotism of the man rebuked itself. If, indeed, she were passing into +a new and happier life, should he not first, of every one, be +thankful?--first of every one because within that hour he had +learned the secret toward which he had been dimly struggling? + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +THE SHIPS COME IN + + +The accountant was preparing to take his leave. There had been an +informal little meeting held in the dingy private office of Messrs. +Samuel Weatherley & Company, at which he had presided. + +"I really feel," he said, as he drew on his gloves thoughtfully, +"that I must repeat my congratulations to you, Mr. Jarvis, and to +your young coadjutor here, Mr. Chetwode. The results which I have +had the pleasure of laying before you are quite excellent. In fact, +so far as I can remember, the firm has scarcely ever had a more +prosperous half year." + +"Very kind of you, I am sure," Mr. Jarvis declared, "and most +satisfactory to us. We've worked hard, of course, but that doesn't +amount to much, after all. When you've been in a business, as I have +in this one, for something like thirty-five years, the interest you +take in it is such that you can't help working. This I must say, +though," he went on, placing his hand on Arnold's shoulder, "Mr. +Chetwode is almost a newcomer here, and yet his energy has sometimes +astounded me. Most remarkable and most creditable! For the last two +months, Mr. Neville, he has scarcely slept in London for a single +night. He has been to Bristol and Cardiff and Liverpool--all over +the country, in fact--in the interests of the firm, with results +that have sometimes astonished us." + +The accountant nodded approvingly. He took up the balance sheet +which they had been perusing and placed it in its envelope. + +"I shall now," he said, "call upon Mr. Weatherley, and I am sure he +will be most gratified. I understand that our next meeting is to be +down here." + +Mr. Jarvis beamed. + +"Although I must say," he admitted, "that the responsibility has +been a great pleasure, still, we shall be heartily glad to see Mr. +Weatherley back again." + +"I am sure of it," the accountant assented. "I understand that he +has made a complete recovery." + +"Absolutely his own self again, sir," Mr. Jarvis declared, "and +looking better than ever." + +"Odd thing, though, that loss of memory," the accountant remarked. +"I was talking to the doctor about it only the other day. He seems +to have wandered away into some sort of hiding, under the impression +that he had committed a crime, and now that he is getting better he +has absolutely forgotten all about it. He just thinks that he has +had an ordinary illness and has had to stay away from business for a +time." + +"Queer thing altogether, sir," Mr. Jarvis admitted; "a queer +business, sir. However, it's over and done with, and the less said +about it, the better. We are both very much obliged to you, Mr. +Neville, for your kind offices, and I am only thankful that the +results have been so satisfactory." + +Mr. Jarvis conducted his visitor to the door and returned to Arnold +with beaming face. In anticipation of the accountant's visit he was +wearing a frock-coat, which was already a shade too small for him. +He carefully divested himself of this garment, put on his linen +office-coat and turned towards his companion. + +"Chetwode," he said, "I have a proposition to make. The firm shall +stand us a little dinner this evening, which we will take together. +We will go up to the west-end. You shall choose the proper place and +order everything--just the best you can think of. The firm shall +pay. Mr. Weatherley would be quite agreeable, I am sure." + +Arnold forced himself to accept the suggestion with some appearance +of pleasure. + +"Delighted!" he agreed. "We'll have to finish up the letters and go +through this mail first." + +"Just so," Mr. Jarvis replied. "After that, we'll shut up shop. This +is quite a red-letter day, Chetwode. I knew that we'd held our own, +but I must confess that I found those figures most exhilarating. Our +little bonus, too, will be worth having." + +Later on, they found their way to a restaurant in the Strand, where +Mr. Jarvis ate and drank perhaps better than he had ever done in his +life. The evening to him was one of unalloyed pleasure, and he was +genuinely disappointed when Arnold pleaded an engagement as an +excuse for not finishing up at a music-hall. About nine o'clock the +two men parted, Mr. Jarvis to spend the rest of the evening alone, +with a big cigar in his mouth and an unaccustomed feeling of levity +in his head. Arnold, after a moment's hesitation, walked slowly back +to his empty rooms. + +So this was success! Without a friend in the world, without +training or any practical knowledge of life, his feet were firmly +planted upon the ladder. He had stifled all sorts of nameless +ambitions. He had set his teeth and done what appeared to be his +duty. Now it seemed to him that he had come to a pause. He drew up +his sofa to the window of his sitting-room and looked downward. +Somehow or other, the depression against which he had struggled all +the evening seemed only intensified by what he saw below. An early +autumn had stripped bare the leaves from the scanty trees; the sky +was gray and starless. Even the lights along the river front seemed +to burn with a dull and uninspiring fire. He looked around him and +his depression became an almost overmastering sensation. He hated +the sight of his empty room, the phantom thoughts that would light +upon his shoulder, the sofa upon which he was sitting alone, the +memory of the things which he might have said to Ruth in the days +when the opportunity was his. For a moment he even thought of Mr. +Jarvis at the music-hall alone, the welcoming lights, the pleasant +warmth, the music, the cheerful throngs of people. Better anything, +he told himself, than this brooding! A sudden almost reckless +impulse called him back again into the streets, only to pass away +the same moment with the vision of Ruth's pale face by his side, her +eyes alternately gazing down the lighted way and seeking his, her +fingers grasping his hand. His head sank forward into his hands. He +was alone! + +He sat up suddenly with a start. The inner door of the room had +opened and was softly closed again. A familiar voice addressed him. + +"I find your habits, my young friend, somewhat erratic," Sabatini +remarked. "Your supply of common necessaries, too, seems limited. I +have been driven to explore, quite fruitlessly, the whole of your +little domain, in the vain search for a match." + +He pointed to the unlit cigarette between his fingers. Arnold, who +was a little dazed, rose and produced a box of matches. + +"But I don't understand how it is that you are here!" he exclaimed. +"I thought that you were at Brighton. And how did you get in?" + +Sabatini seated himself comfortably at the end of the sofa and +placed a cushion behind his head. + +"We came up from Brighton this afternoon," he explained, puffing +contentedly at his cigarette. "I am now pronounced convalescent. +Ruth, too, could throw away her stick any moment she wanted to, only +I fancy that she thinks its use becoming." + +"But," Arnold persisted, "I don't understand how you got in! You +know that I am glad to see you." + +"I got in with Ruth's key, of course," Sabatini replied. + +Arnold leaned against the back of the sofa. + +"I had forgotten," he said. "Of course, if I had known that you had +been coming, I would have been here. The accountant brought in the +result of our last six months' work this afternoon, and Mr. Jarvis +insisted upon a little celebration. We had dinner together." + +Sabatini nodded. + +"So you have been successful," he remarked, thoughtfully. "You kept +your feet along the narrow way and you have done well. I am glad. +Sit down here by my side." + +Arnold sat down on the end of the sofa. The curtain was pulled up as +far as it would go. Below them, the curving arc of lights stretched +away to the dim distance. Sabatini followed them with his eyes, for +a moment, as though he, too, found something inspiring in that +lighted way. Then he turned to Arnold with a queer little twinkle in +his eyes. + +"By the bye," he asked, "you haven't heard--Fenella hasn't told you +of the last turn in fortune's wheel?" + +"I have seen little of Mrs. Weatherley lately," Arnold murmured. + +Sabatini leaned back in his place. His hollow eyes were lit now with +laughter, his mouth twitched. The marks of his illness seemed almost +to pass. + +"It is delicious," he declared. "Listen. You remember that one day +when you dined with me I told you of my uncle the Cardinal?" + +"The uncle from whom you borrowed money?" Arnold remarked, dryly. + +"Precisely," Sabatini agreed; "I borrowed money from him! It was +only a trifle but I chose my own methods. Heavens, but it is droll!" + +Sabatini began to laugh softly. His whole face now was alight with +enjoyment. + +"Last month," he continued, "His Eminence died. He had fourteen +nephews, three brothers, two sisters, and no end of nieces. To whom +do you think he has left his entire fortune, my dear Arnold--three +hundred thousand pounds they say it is?" + +"To you!" Arnold gasped. + +"To me, indeed," Sabatini assented. "I did not even go to the +funeral. I read of his death in the newspapers and I shrugged my +shoulders. It was nothing to me. Yet those fourteen nephews were +left not so much as would buy their mourning clothes. This is the +chief sentence in the will,--'_To the only one of my relatives whose +method of seeking my favors has really appealed to me, I leave the +whole of my fortune, without partition or reserve._'--And then my +name. I was that one. Almost," Sabatini concluded, with a little +sigh, "I am sorry that he is dead. I should have liked once more to +have shaken him by the hand." + +Arnold was speechless. The realization of what it all meant was +beginning to dawn upon him. Sabatini was wealthy--Ruth was a great +heiress. Her treasure ship had come in, indeed--and his was passing +him by. + +"I am glad," he said slowly, "glad for your sake and for Ruth's." + +Sabatini nodded. + +"My shadowy means," he remarked, "have kept me in comfort. Perhaps, +even, they have been a trifle more than I have let people imagine. +Still, this is all very different. Ruth and I are going to wander +about the Riviera for a time. Afterwards, we are going to sail to +Sabatini and patch up my old castle. I have some tenants there who +certainly deserve a little consideration from me--old friends, who +would sooner live without a roof over their heads than seek a new +master. I shall grow vines again, my young friend, and make cheeses. +You shall come from the illustrious firm of Samuel Weatherley & +Company and be my most favored customer. But let me give you just a +word of advice while I am in the humor. Buy our cheeses, if you +will, but never touch our wine. Leave that for the peasants who make +it. Somehow or other, they thrive,--they even become, at times, +merry upon it,--but the Lord have mercy upon those others, not born +upon the island of Sabatini, who raise it to their lips!" + +"I will leave the wine alone," Arnold promised. "But shan't I be +able to say good-bye to Ruth?" + +Sabatini leaned towards him. His expression was once more grave, yet +there was the dawn of a smile upon his sensitive lips. + +"You can say to her what you will," he murmured, "for she is here. +She had a fancy to look at her old room. I was there with her when +you arrived. I have a fancy now to give an order to my chauffeur. _A +bientot!_" + +Arnold rose slowly to his feet. His heart was beginning to beat +fiercely. He was looking across the room with straining eyes. It was +not possible that clothes and health could make so great a +difference as this! She was standing upon the threshold of her room. +She was coming now slowly towards him, leaning ever so slightly upon +her stick. Her cheeks were touched with pink, her eyes were lit with +so soft and wonderful a brilliance that they shone like stars. He +forgot her fashionable hat, the quiet elegance of her clothes. It +was Ruth who came towards him--Ruth, radiantly beautiful, +transformed--yet Ruth! He held out his arms and with a little sob +she glided into them. + +Side by side they took their accustomed places upon the horse-hair +sofa. Her head sank upon his shoulder, her hands clasped his, her +eyes were wet with tears. A siren blew from the river. A little tug, +with two barges lashed alongside, was coming valiantly along. The +dark coil of water seemed suddenly agleam with quivering lights. + +"Our ships," she whispered, "together, dear!" + +THE END + + + * * * * * + +E. Phillips Oppenheim's Novels + + +Mr. Oppenheim never fails to entertain us.--_Boston Transcript_. + +The author has acquired an admirable technique of the sort demanded +by the novel of intrigue and mystery.--_The Dial_, Chicago. + +Mr. Oppenheim is a past master of the art of constructing ingenious +plots and weaving them around attractive characters.--_London +Morning Post_. + +By all odds the most successful among the writers of that class of +fiction which, for want of a better term, may be called "mystery +stories."--_Ainslee's Magazine_. + +Readers of Mr. Oppenheim's novels may always count on a story of +absorbing interest, turning on a complicated plot, worked out with +dexterous craftsmanship.--_Literary Digest_, New York. + +We do not stop to inquire into the measure of his art, any more than +we inquire into that of Alexandre Dumas, we only realize that here +is a benefactor of tired men and women seeking relaxation.--_The +Independent_, New York. + + * * * * * + +Havoc + A brilliant and engrossing story of love, mystery, and international + intrigue. + +Peter Ruff and the Double Four + Deals with the exploits of a shrewd detective and a mysterious + secret society. + +The Moving Finger. + A mystifying story dealing with unexpected results of a wealthy + M.P.'s experiment with a poor young man. + +Berenice. + Oppenheim in a new vein--the story of the love of a novelist of high + ideals for an actress. + +The Lost Ambassador. + A straightforward mystery tale of Paris and London, in which a + rascally maitre d'hotel plays an important part. + +A Daughter of the Marionis. + A melodramatic romance of Palermo and England, dealing with a + rejected Italian lover's attempted revenge. + +Mystery of Mr. Bernard Brown. + A murder-mystery story rich in sensational incidents. + +The Illustrious Prince. + A narrative of mystery and Japanese political intrigue. + +Jeanne of the Marshes. + Strange doings at an English house party are here set forth. + +The Governors. + A romance of the intrigues of American finance. + +The Missioner. + Strongly depicts the love of an earnest missioner and a worldly + heroine. + +The Long Arm of Mannister. + A distinctly different story that deals with a wronged man's + ingenious revenge. + +As a Man Lives. + Discloses the mystery surrounding the fair occupant of a yellow + house. + +The Avenger. + Unravels an intricate tangle of political intrigue and private + revenge. + +The Great Secret. + Unfolds a stupendous international conspiracy. + +A Lost Leader. + A realistic romance woven around a striking personality. + +A Maker of History. + "Explains" the Russian Baltic fleet's attack on the North Sea + fishing fleet. + +Enoch Strone: A Master of Men. + The story of a self-made man who made a foolish early marriage. + +The Malefactor. + An amazing story of a man who suffered imprisonment for a crime he + did not commit. + +The Traitors. + A capital romance of love, adventure and Russian intrigue. + +A Prince of Sinners. + An engrossing story of English social and political life. + +A Millionaire of Yesterday. + A gripping story of a wealthy West African miner. + +The Man and His Kingdom. + A dramatic tale of adventure in South America. + +Anna the Adventuress. + A surprising tale of a bold deception. + +Mysterious Mr. Sabin. + An ingenious story of a world-startling international intrigue. + +The Yellow Crayon. + Containing the exciting experiences of Mr. Sabin with a powerful + secret society. + +The Betrayal. + A thrilling story of treachery in high diplomatic circles. + +A Sleeping Memory. + A remarkable story of an unhappy girl who was deprived of her + memory. + +The Master Mummer. + The strange romance of beautiful Isobel de Sorrens. + + * * * * * + +Little, Brown & Co., _Publishers_, Boston + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIGHTED WAY*** + + +******* This file should be named 15893.txt or 15893.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/8/9/15893 + + + +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. 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