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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40349 ***
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+   1. Page scan source:
+      http://books.google.com/books?id=nD4PAAAAQAAJ
+      (Oxford University)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                                          The Chase
+                                          of the Ruby
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                  Seventh Edition of RICHARD MARSH'S
+
+                         MOST STRIKING NOVEL
+
+                With Illustrations by John Williamson
+
+                        THE BEETLE: A Mystery
+
+                         Crown 8vo. Price 6s.
+
+                          *   *   *   *   *
+
+The Speaker says: 'A story of the most terrific kind is duly recorded
+in this extremely powerful book. The skill with which its fantastic
+horrors are presented to us is undeniable.'
+
+The Daily Graphic says: 'It is the kind of book which you put down
+only for the purpose of turning up the gas and making sure that no
+person or thing is standing behind your chair; and it is a book which
+no one will put down until finished, except for the reason above
+described.'
+
+The Glasgow Herald says: 'The weird horror of this being grows upon
+the reader. It is difficult, if not impossible, to lay down this book
+when once begun.'
+
+The Academy says: '"Dracula," by Mr Bram Stoker, was creepy, but Mr
+Marsh goes one, oh! many more than one, better. This surprising and
+ingenious story succeeds in producing that sensation of horror which
+should make the flesh of even the least susceptible reader creep.'
+
+Answers says: 'Mr Marsh's famous novel is one of the most
+enthrallingly interesting narratives of the past few years. I strongly
+advise all my readers to order the book at once.'
+
+The Literary World says: 'An ingenious, weird, and thrilling story,
+narrated with a clearness of style and a fulness of incident which
+hold the reader's attention from first to last.'
+
+The St James's Budget says: 'The frontispiece is a nightmare, and the
+terrors are thrillingly described. One is compelled to read it to the
+end.'
+
+The Birmingham Daily Gazette says: 'A powerful and vigorous story of a
+most terrible character, told with skill and ingenuity. It is even
+more strange and mysterious than Bulwer's "Zanoni."'
+
+                          *   *   *   *   *
+
+            London: SKEFFINGTON & SON, 163 Piccadilly, W.
+    _Publishers to Her Majesty The Queen and to H.R.H. The Prince_
+                              _of Wales_
+              And at all Libraries and Railway Bookstalls
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                          Chase of the Ruby
+
+
+
+
+                                  BY
+
+                            RICHARD MARSH
+
+
+                              AUTHOR OF
+
+     'THE BEETLE: A MYSTERY,' 'IN FULL CRY,' 'FRIVOLITIES,' ETC.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                                LONDON
+                  SKEFFINGTON & SON, 163 PICCADILLY
+
+                 Publishers to Her Majesty The Queen
+                                AND TO
+                His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales
+
+                                 1900
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS
+
+
+     CHAP.
+
+        I. GHOSTS IN AFRICA.
+
+       II. THE QUEST ORDAINED.
+
+      III. MISS BROAD COMMANDS.
+
+       IV. MR HOLLAND FAILS.
+
+        V. A WOMAN SCORNED.
+
+       VI. MISS BROAD COMMANDS A SECOND TIME.
+
+      VII. THE BOTTOM DRAWER.
+
+     VIII. THE LADY--AND THE GENTLEMAN.
+
+       IX. THE FLYMAN.
+
+        X. SHE WISHES THAT SHE HADN'T.
+
+       XI. THE PURSUIT OF THE GENTLEMAN.
+
+      XII. THE TENDER MERCIES OF TWO LADIES.
+
+     XIII. VISITORS FOR MISS CASATA.
+
+      XIV. WHO KNOCKS?
+
+       XV. AN HONOURABLE RETREAT.
+
+      XVI. THE FINDING OF THE RUBY AND THE LOCKING OF THE DOOR.
+
+     XVII. THE FIGURES ON THE BED.
+
+    XVIII. REINFORCED.
+
+      XIX. STILL WITH A SMILE.
+
+       XX. HOW THE CHASE WAS ENDED.
+
+
+
+
+
+                        The Chase of the Ruby
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER I
+
+                           GHOSTS IN AFRICA
+
+
+'Upon my word, this is--' He hesitated, then chose another form of
+words with which to conclude his sentence. 'This is extraordinary.'
+
+He allowed the paper to flutter from between his fingers, stood
+staring at nothing, then, stooping, picked up the sheet of blue post
+from where it had fallen at his feet.
+
+'Extraordinary!' he repeated.
+
+He regarded it and handled it as if it had been some uncanny
+thing--though, on the face of it, it was nothing of the kind. It was a
+formal letter addressed to 'Guy Holland, Esq., 37A Craven Street,
+W.C.' It began 'Dear Sir,' and ended 'Yr. obedt. servant, SAML.
+COLLYER.' Between the beginning and the end it informed him that his
+uncle, George Burton, had died at Nice on February 23, and that the
+writer would feel obliged if he would call upon him at his earliest
+possible convenience.
+
+'I wonder if I saw him die?' Mr Holland knit his brows as he asked
+himself the question. 'How could I, when I was in Mashonaland and he
+was in Nice? Absurd!'
+
+He laughed, as it has been written, 'hollowly'; the laugh of
+uneasiness rather than mirth.
+
+Then he went and saw the lady.
+
+She was waiting on a seat by a certain piece of water in Regent's
+Park. She must have had eyes behind, because, although she was sitting
+with her back to him, directly he stepped upon the grass she sprang
+up, and, as if she had been observing him all the time, went to him at
+something very like a run. He advanced at quick step. They met in the
+middle of the grass plot, contrary to regulations, which forbid people
+to walk upon the grass. They each gave two hands, and that with an air
+which suggested that if that had not been a public place they would
+have given each other something else as well.
+
+'Guy!' she exclaimed. 'I thought you were the other side of the world.
+What a time you've been!'
+
+'Coming from the other side of the world? or from Craven Street? It is
+some distance from Craven Street to Regent's Park.'
+
+'You are in Craven Street, are you? What's it mean? You're looking
+well--sort of coppery colour; it suits you.'
+
+'That's the air of the veldt; it burnishes a man's skin. You're
+looking sweet. I say, it's awfully hard lines that I can't kiss you.
+Mayn't I--just a little one?'
+
+'In broad daylight, in Regent's Park, with a hundred pairs of eyes
+observing us from Hamilton Terrace? Thank you; some other day. When I
+had your note--what a note! "Meet me at the old place at noon"--I
+wondered who I was to meet, you or your ghost. As a matter of fact, I
+had a most important engagement--just at noon; but I put it off on
+purpose to come and see.'
+
+'That was very dear of you. I'm not my ghost, I'm me.'
+
+'But--Guy, have you made your fortune? You didn't seem as if you were
+going to make it at quite such a rate when you wrote last.'
+
+He shook his head.
+
+'Came back with less in my pockets than when I left.'
+
+'Then--what does it mean?'
+
+'My uncle's dead.'
+
+'Mr Burton?'
+
+He nodded.
+
+'Has he left you his money? Oh, Guy!'
+
+'As to that, I can't say. At present I know nothing. The fact is,
+Letty, it's--it's a queer business. You won't laugh?'
+
+'What at?'
+
+'Well'--he held out an envelope--'if I hadn't found this letter
+awaiting me telling me of the old man's death, I should have accused
+myself of softening of the brain, or something of the kind. As it is,
+I believe I've had a vision.'
+
+'A vision! You? Guy, fancy your discovering that there are visions
+about.'
+
+'You're laughing at me now.'
+
+'I'm doing nothing of the kind. How can you say such a thing? I'm the
+soul of gravity. Do I ever laugh?'
+
+As a matter of fact, there was a twinkle in her eyes even as she
+spoke, which he perceived.
+
+'All right; laugh it out. I don't mind. All I can say is that it's
+gospel truth, and seems queer enough to me, though I daresay it's
+extremely comic to anybody else.'
+
+'What seems comic? You haven't said a word.'
+
+'Let's find a seat, and I'll say a good many.'
+
+They found a seat--not the one she had been sitting on, but one which
+was sheltered by a tree. It was, perhaps, because it was in the shade
+that they temporarily ignored the fact that they were yet in Regent's
+Park. They were still pretty close together when he began to tell his
+tale.
+
+'On the 23rd of February I had had a long day in the open. It was
+broiling hot, and in the evening I was glad to get back under cover.
+As I sat at my tent door, too tired even to smoke, I saw, right in
+front of me, my uncle.'
+
+'Your uncle? Mr Burton? Where was this?'
+
+'Perhaps three hundred miles north of Buluwayo.'
+
+'But--what was your uncle doing there?'
+
+'I told you it was a queer business, and so it was. Let me try to
+explain. Straight in front of where I was sitting the plain stretched
+for heaven knows how many miles right away to the horizon. There were
+no buildings; scarcely a bush or a tree was to be seen; just the
+monotonous level ground. All at once I perceived, certainly within a
+hundred feet of where I was, a flight of steps.'
+
+'A flight of steps?'
+
+'Well, I had a sort of general idea that there was a building in
+connection, but my eyes were fixed upon the steps. I seemed to know
+them. There was a wide open door at top. I felt that I was well
+acquainted with what was on the other side of that door. On the steps
+my uncle was standing. Mind, I saw him as well as I see you, and,
+thank goodness, I can see you pretty well. I can't tell you what he
+wore, because I'm no hand at describing clothes; but I've an
+impression that he had on a suit of tweeds and a bowler hat. He was
+apparently lounging on the steps, watching the passers-by. He did not
+see me--of that I was sure. On a sudden someone else came towards him
+up the steps. He was a stranger to me, though I think I should know
+him if I saw him again. He was taller than my uncle, and, I imagine,
+younger. Anyhow, he was altogether a bigger and a stronger man. He had
+a walking stick in his hand, with a horn handle. Directly he got
+within reach, without, so far as I could judge, uttering a word of
+warning, with this stick he struck my uncle with all his force across
+the face. I suspect that my uncle had seen him coming before I did,
+and, for reasons of his own, had stuck to what he deemed his post of
+vantage on the steps, being unwilling to go and meet him, and ashamed
+to run away. That he was not so taken aback by the suddenness of the
+attack as I was I felt persuaded. He put out his hand to guard
+himself, and, I fancy, at the last moment was disposed to turn tail
+and flee. But it was too late. The blow got home. He staggered back
+and would have fallen had not the stranger gripped him with his left
+hand, and commenced to belabour him with the stick which he held with
+his right. People came streaming out of the open door above and up the
+steps from the street. My uncle made not the faintest attempt at
+resistance. When the people came close enough to hamper the free
+action of his arm, the stranger, giving his victim a push, sent him
+head foremost down the steps. In an instant the whole thing vanished.'
+
+Mr Holland ceased. The lady had been regarding him with wide-open grey
+eyes.
+
+'Guy!' she said.
+
+'Wasn't it odd?'
+
+'Odd? You must have been dreaming.'
+
+'I was as wide awake as you are. It was a mirage, or vision, or
+something of the kind. The queerest part of it was that it was so
+amazingly real, and so near. When the thing had gone I kept asking
+myself why I hadn't jumped up and interfered. I could have got there
+in a dozen strides.'
+
+'Then what happened?'
+
+'I sat for a long time half dazed, half expecting the thing to come
+again, or to continue from the point at which it had left off. Then I
+went and told a man with whom I was chumming what I'd seen. He said
+the sun had got into my eyes, advised me to have a drink--made fun of
+it altogether. But I knew better; and, as it turned out, I was haunted
+by my uncle all through the night.'
+
+'Awake or sleeping?'
+
+'Awake. I couldn't sleep. I was haunted by a feeling that he was
+dying. The stranger had not killed him; but in consequence of the
+thrashing he had received he was struggling with death, and kept
+calling out to me to come to him; and I couldn't.'
+
+'Poor Guy!'
+
+The lady softly stroked the hand of his which she held between her
+two.
+
+'I wondered if I was on the verge of an attack of illness or going
+mad, or what, though personally I felt as fit as a fiddle all the
+time, with my senses as much about me as they are now. I kept hearing
+him call out, over and over again, "Guy, Guy!" in the voice I knew so
+well and wasn't particularly fond of. There was something else which
+he kept repeating.'
+
+'What was that?'
+
+'"The ruby."'
+
+'The ruby?'
+
+'I haven't a notion of what he meant or what the whole thing meant,
+but at least a dozen times that night I heard him referring to a
+ruby,--the ruby, he called it. Long and seemingly involved sentences I
+heard him utter, but the only two words I could distinguish were those
+two--"the ruby"; and, as I have said, those two I heard him pronounce
+certainly a dozen times. And in the morning I was conscious of an
+absolute conviction that he was dead.'
+
+'How very strange.'
+
+'I'm not one of your clever chaps, so I don't pretend to be able to
+suggest a sufficient explanation, but the entire business reminds me
+of what I've heard about second sight. Although in the body I was out
+there on the veldt I seemed to know and see what was taking place
+heaven knows how many thousand miles away. In spite of the persuasion
+which was borne in upon me that he was dead, every day, and sometimes
+all day, I heard him calling out to me, "Guy, Guy!" and every now and
+then, "The ruby!" It was as if he were imploring me to come to him.'
+
+'So you came.'
+
+'So I came. The truth is I couldn't stand it any longer. I should have
+gone off my head if I had had much more of it. I was good for nothing,
+my nerves were all anyhow, everyone was laughing at me. So I slipped
+off by myself without a word to a creature; got down to Cape Town,
+found a boat just starting, and was off on it at once. Directly the
+boat was away the haunting stopped. My nerves were all right in an
+instant. I told myself I was an ass; that I ought to have wired or
+written, or done something sensible. Since, however, it was too late I
+tried to make the best of things. I ran up to London so soon as we
+reached port, meaning, if it turned out that my imagination had made a
+fool of me, to go straight back without breathing a word to anyone of
+my ever having come.'
+
+'Not even to me?'
+
+'Not even to you. You wouldn't have liked me to turn up with nothing
+but a bee in my bonnet.'
+
+'So long as you turned up, I shouldn't have cared for forty thousand
+bees. The idea!'
+
+'That's very sweet of you. As it happened, no sooner did I appear at
+my old quarters than Mrs Flickers produced a letter which had arrived
+for me--she did not know how long ago, and which she had not known
+what to do with. It turned out to be an intimation from Collyer that
+that my uncle had died on the 23rd of February, the very day on which,
+out on the veldt, I had seen him assaulted by that unknown individual
+upon that flight of steps.'
+
+'Guy, is this a ghost story you have been telling me? I don't want to
+be absurd, but it really does look as if it were a case of the hand of
+destiny.'
+
+'I don't know about the hand of destiny, but it does look as if it
+were a case of something.'
+
+'I shouldn't be surprised if, after all, the old reprobate has left
+you some of his money.'
+
+'Nor I. Oh, Letty, if he has! We'll be married on Monday.'
+
+'As this is Friday, couldn't you make it Sunday? Monday seems such a
+long way off. My dear Guy, first of all interview Mr Samuel Collyer.
+Then you'll learn the worst.'
+
+'I am going to. Of course I had to see you first--'
+
+'Of course.'
+
+'But I wired to him that I'd call this afternoon.'
+
+'Then call.'
+
+And Mr Holland called.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II
+
+                          THE QUEST ORDAINED
+
+
+Mr Collyer's offices were in Pump Court, first floor front. Mr Samuel
+Collyer was a somewhat short and pursy gentleman of about fifty years
+of age, with a clean-shaven face, and a manner which gave such a
+varying complexion to the words he used as to cause it sometimes to be
+very difficult to make out exactly what it was he meant; an extremely
+useful manner for a solicitor to have. As with alert, swinging stride
+Mr Holland entered, Mr Collyer rose, greeting him with his usual
+stolid air, as if he had just looked in from across the road, instead
+of from the wilds of Africa.
+
+'Good morning, Mr Guy. You're looking very brown.'
+
+'Yes, I--I'm feeling very brown.'
+
+The words seemed to come from him almost before he knew it, on the
+spur of the moment, as if the presence of a third person lent them a
+special significance. Reclining in the only armchair the room
+contained was a young gentleman of about Mr Holland's own age. He was
+well dressed, good looking, very much at his ease, and he regarded Mr
+Holland with a suggestion of amusement which seemed somehow to be very
+much in character.
+
+'In questions of feeling is brown the equivalent of blue?'
+
+Mr Holland's bearing was not so genial as the other's.
+
+'I did not expect to see you here.'
+
+'Nor, my dear Guy, did I expect to see you. I did not even wish to.'
+
+'That I can easily believe.'
+
+'It is Mr Collyer's fault that I am here, not mine. I should have been
+content never to set eyes on you again; and as for being in the same
+room with you--'
+
+He left his sentence unfinished, with a little airy movement of his
+hand, which seemed to round it off with a sting. He continued to
+smile, although Mr Holland regarded him for a moment with eyes which
+were very far from smiling. The newcomer turned to the solicitor.
+
+'I have your letter.'
+
+'I presume, Mr Guy, that you had my letter nearly three months ago.'
+
+'I had it this morning. I only came back from Africa last night.'
+
+'From Africa? I was not aware you had gone so far.'
+
+'Dear Guy is such a gadabout.'
+
+The interpolation came from the young gentleman in the arm-chair. The
+solicitor went on.
+
+'The only address I had was the one in Craven Street. As my letter did
+not come back I supposed it had reached you safely; but that, for
+reasons of your own, you chose to take no notice of it. You know, Mr
+Guy, that in such matters you are a little erratic.'
+
+'I know. You needn't remind me. So my uncle is dead. Of what did he
+die?'
+
+'The immediate cause was apoplexy, brought on, it is to be feared, by
+something which happened on the afternoon of his decease.'
+
+The young gentleman in the arm-chair struck in.
+
+'He was thrashed within an inch of his life, and very properly he was
+served.'
+
+'Thrashed! Where? On a flight of steps?'
+
+'On the steps of the Hôtel des Anglais at Nice.'
+
+'Good God! I thought I knew the place; of course it was the Hôtel des
+Anglais; it's--it's past believing.'
+
+The solicitor misapprehended the cause of Mr Holland's excitement.
+
+'It does seem almost incredible; none the less it is a lamentable
+fact.'
+
+The young gentleman put in his word.
+
+'How incredible? The dear man misbehaved himself with another man's
+wife, as was his invariable custom when he had a chance. The other man
+thrashed him for it. What could be more natural? or simpler?'
+
+Mr Holland ignored the inquiry.
+
+'What is it, Mr Collyer, which you wish to say to me?'
+
+'It is not so much that I have anything to say to you as that I have a
+duty to perform. I have to read to you your uncle's will. His
+instructions were that it was to be read only in the presence of both
+his nephews, his sole remaining relatives.'
+
+'He has probably left all his money to found a hospital for cats, and
+wished us both to be present, my dear Guy, so that we might enjoy each
+other's discomfiture.'
+
+Mr Holland said nothing. Mr Collyer was taking some papers out of a
+metal box which stood against the wall, and on the front of which was
+painted in white letters the name, 'George Burton.' Reseating himself
+behind his table he held up a large white linen envelope, such as is
+used in England for registered letters.
+
+'I will read you the endorsement which is on it. "This envelope, which
+he told me contained his will, was delivered to me by Mr George
+Burton, on the 22nd of June 1899, and was then and there sealed by me
+in the presence of my two clerks whose names are undersigned." Then
+follow my own signature, and the signatures of the clerks in question,
+both of whom are still in my employ, Ferdinand Murpeatt and Benjamin
+Davis. Would either of you gentlemen like to see them?'
+
+'My good Mr Collyer, we don't want to see your clerks. Your clerks be
+sanctified. Why all this form and fuss? Make an end of it. Let's know
+if it's cats or dogs Uncle Burton's favoured.'
+
+'And you, Mr Guy, are you content that I should proceed at once to the
+contents of this envelope?'
+
+Mr Holland said nothing; he simply nodded. The solicitor, taking a
+penknife, began to cut open the top of the envelope with a degree of
+care which perhaps erred on the side of overcaution. He addressed them
+as he did so.
+
+'I may say that, beyond Mr Burton's own statement that it holds his
+will, I have no notion what this envelope contains. I have no
+knowledge of the purport of the will; Mr Burton never gave me the
+faintest hint as to what were his testamentary intentions. You are
+aware that your uncle was a man who did what he liked, in his own way;
+and I say this, therefore, in order to give you to understand that
+whatever form the will may take, I am not to be held responsible.'
+
+The young gentleman in the arm-chair laughed.
+
+'My dear Collyer, do cut the cackle, and do let's come to the 'osses.'
+
+Mr Collyer took out from the envelope a single sheet of paper. Without
+further preamble he commenced to read what was written on it, in a
+slow, monotonous, sing-song voice, as if it were something sacred
+which he almost felt it his duty to intone.
+
+
+'"I, George Burton, of Hyde Park Terrace, London, W., do hereby
+announce that this is my last Will and Testament, as written with my
+own hand on June 17, 1899."
+
+'"I have only two relatives living, viz., my two nephews, Horace
+Burton, my brother's son, and Guy Holland, the son of my sister; and,
+since I love them equally well, I desire to do them equal justice."'
+
+The reading was interrupted by prolonged laughter from the young
+gentleman in the arm-chair.
+
+'The dear man!' he cried.
+
+Mr Collyer continued.
+
+'"I therefore give and bequeath all that I die possessed of, in real
+and personal estate, to my nephew, Guy Holland--"'
+
+'Good Lord!' exclaimed the young gentleman in the arm-chair.
+
+Mr Holland's lips might have been closed a little tighter. The lawyer
+went on unmoved.
+
+'"Absolutely, to do with as he pleases, on condition that he recover
+from May Bewicke, the actress, whom he knows, my ruby signet ring,
+which she obtained from me by means of a trick on the 27th of this
+last May. The ring is well known to him, and to Horace, and to my
+lawyer, Samuel Collyer. The ring is to be delivered to Samuel Collyer,
+whom I hereby appoint my sole executor, by my nephew, Guy, within
+three months of the day of my death. Should he do so within the period
+mentioned, then I do hereby name him as my sole heir and residuary
+legatee. In default, however, of such delivery within the time stated,
+for any cause whatever, then my whole estate, without any deduction
+whatever, is to become the absolute property of my other nephew,
+Horace Burton."
+
+'"Since the chances that Guy will obtain the ring from Miss Bewicke
+are not very large, that young woman preferring to keep tight hold of
+anything she has once laid her hands on, in making this will I am
+doing Horace even more than justice."
+
+'"In the improbable case of the delivery of my ruby signet ring by Guy
+to Samuel Collyer, within the aforementioned three months of my
+decease, it is to be held by the said Samuel Collyer, and not to pass
+out of his possession until his death, when it is to be sold, and the
+proceeds devoted to form a Society for the Reformation of Actresses."
+
+'"As witness my hand and signature this seventeenth day of June,
+Eighteen hundred and ninety-nine. GEORGE BURTON."
+
+'"Witnesses--"
+
+'"John Claney, 13 Porchester Terrace, W."
+
+'"Augustus Evans, 83 Belgrave Row, S.W."'
+
+
+The reading was followed by silence, broken by a question from Mr
+Holland.
+
+'And pray what is the plain English of it all?'
+
+'The will is plain English. You are to obtain a certain ring from a
+certain lady and deliver it to me within a certain time. If you do so
+you are your uncle's heir; if you do not, Mr Horace is.'
+
+'Within three months of his death. He died on the 23rd of February.
+This is the 19th of May. I have four days in which to get the ring.'
+
+'Apparently that is the case.'
+
+'Supposing this lady refuses to give me the ring when I ask for it,
+as, so far as I can perceive, she will be perfectly justified in
+doing.'
+
+'Perfectly!'
+
+The murmur came from Horace.
+
+'How am I to get it from her within four days? Where is Miss Bewicke
+now?'
+
+'In London. She is acting at the Modern Theatre. I am afraid I am
+unable to assist you with any advice as to how you are to procure the
+ring should she refuse to hand it over.'
+
+Mr Holland stood up.
+
+'Is that will a good one?'
+
+'You mean in a legal sense. I should say so, perfectly. It is just the
+sort of will I should have expected your uncle to make. It is
+distinctly characteristic of the man.'
+
+'My uncle was a most delightful person. Then, if I do not succeed in
+jockeying this lady out of her property inside four days I'm a
+pauper.'
+
+'At least you will not inherit under your uncle's will.'
+
+As Mr Holland stood with knitted brows his cousin gave him a friendly
+pat upon the back. Mr Holland whirled round to him in a manner which
+was distinctly not friendly.
+
+'How dare you touch me, sir!'
+
+'My dear Guy! May not a cousin give a cousinly salutation to a cousin?
+My congratulations, my dear boy. You're sure to be the heir. You
+always were so clever at diddling a woman.'
+
+The blood showed even through Mr Holland's bronzed cheeks; his
+clenched fists twitched. The other, however, paid no heed to these
+signs and portents.
+
+'I believe you managed to diddle Miss Bewicke once before, eh, Guy?'
+He turned upon his heels, with a little movement of his shoulders.
+'Let's hope you'll succeed the second time as well as I've been given
+to understand you did the first. Good-bye. Good luck, dear boy.
+Collyer, I'll look in on you again.'
+
+Mr Horace Burton strolled from the room. Presently Mr Holland followed
+him.
+
+'I, also, Mr Collyer, will talk things over when I look in again. I
+don't feel equal to the task just now.' He said to himself as he was
+going down the stairs, 'Nice to have to rob your old sweetheart to
+keep yourself out of the gutter. He knew very well there had been
+passages between us; so he set me the dirtiest job to do which he
+could think of. The brute! I'd better have stayed in Africa than have
+come back to this. I wonder what Letty'll say.'
+
+The solicitor, left alone, leaning back in his chair, stroked his chin
+with his hand as if to discover whether it wanted shaving.
+
+'They don't know that Miss May Bewicke is Mr Samuel Collyer's niece. I
+fancy that there are only one or two persons who are aware that he has
+a niece upon the stage. George Burton certainly was not.'
+
+He smiled as if his own thoughts tickled him.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER III
+
+                         MISS BROAD COMMANDS
+
+
+They were in Regent's Park again; at the same place; on the same seat.
+She said to him as he came up,--
+
+'I told papa that you were here. I'm of age, and I suppose I'm
+entitled to do as I please; but I made up my mind that I'd have no
+secrecy. It's degrading.'
+
+'Well, degrading's strong. And what did papa say?'
+
+'I mentioned, at the same time, that your uncle was dead, and under
+the circumstances he perhaps thought it advisable not to say much. At
+anyrate he didn't.'
+
+'He might have done; and he will do soon.'
+
+Something in his tone caught her ear.
+
+'Guy! What's the matter? You don't mean--?'
+
+'Not exactly, though I'm not sure it isn't worse.'
+
+She half rose from the seat.
+
+'Has he left you nothing?'
+
+He told her the purport of his uncle's will; she listening eager-eyed
+and open-mouthed.
+
+'Do you mean to say that you're to get this ridiculous ring out of
+Miss Bewicke's possession in four days, by fair means or foul?'
+
+He nodded.
+
+'But it's monstrous.'
+
+'It is a pretty tall order?'
+
+'What do you propose to do?'
+
+'I propose to call upon Miss Bewicke.'
+
+In a moment, without any warning, she was standing up beside him stiff
+and straight.
+
+'I see. Now I understand. That's the idea. I've no doubt that Miss
+Bewicke will find you a most persuasive person.'
+
+'My dear Letty!'
+
+'Weren't you and Miss Bewicke once engaged to be married? Pray don't
+trouble yourself to explain. I know all about it. You need have no
+fear of losing your uncle's inheritance. You are quite sure to
+understand each other. She'll be delighted to give you the ring in
+exchange for another. Would you like to give her mine?'
+
+She actually began to unbutton her glove. He groaned.
+
+'It's worth while seeing ghosts in Africa for this!'
+
+'And what do you propose to say to Miss Bewicke when you call upon
+her?'
+
+'That's what I want you to tell me.'
+
+'I tell you! As if you didn't know! After the stories I have heard of
+her I had hoped that you would have had no more to do with Miss
+Bewicke. But, of course, my wishes do not count.'
+
+'If the stories you have heard are to Miss Bewicke's discredit, you
+may take my word for it that they are libels.'
+
+'You are sure to know. I am glad you have such a high opinion of her.
+When you have seen her you might let me know what she says. That is,
+if she should say anything which was not spoken in the strictest
+confidence.'
+
+She actually walked away. He went after her.
+
+'My dear Letty, don't you want me to try to get the ring?'
+
+'By all means act in accordance with the dictates of your better
+judgment. You are so much wiser than I.'
+
+'But, Letty, if I don't get the ring, I--I won't say I lose you,
+because God knows I hope I never shall do that; but it means that I
+shall have to wait for you, the Powers above alone can tell how long.
+While getting it means getting you at once.'
+
+'Guy, weren't you once engaged to be married to Miss Bewicke?'
+
+'Yes, I was.'
+
+'And I suppose you loved each other?'
+
+'Letty, it's not like you to rub it in like this.'
+
+'My dear Guy, let us look the situation fairly in the face. This
+person, from whom you are going to ask this weighty favour--in effect
+you are going to ask her to bestow on you a fortune--is the woman whom
+once you loved, and who was once your promised wife. I don't like it;
+it's no use pretending to you that I do.'
+
+'My dear Letty, do you think I like it? If it weren't for
+circumstances I'd let the ruby and the fortune go together. Listen,
+the decision shall be in your hands. Shall I try to fulfil the old
+man's preposterous and malignant condition? or shall I throw the whole
+thing up at once, let the money go to Horace Burton, return to Africa,
+and keep on pounding away in the hope of making enough to win you in
+the end? Now, which is it to be? You shall say.'
+
+'It's not fair to place the entire responsibility upon my shoulders.'
+
+'Since this is a matter in which you are primarily interested, my one
+desire is that your views should be treated with the utmost possible
+deference.'
+
+'Then get the ruby.'
+
+'But how?'
+
+'Tear it from her if you like; knock her down and steal it; I don't
+care. Only don't make love to her under the pretence of doing me a
+service. Guy, if you're even civil to her--'
+
+She left the sentence unfinished; the air with which she spoke was
+eloquent enough.
+
+'My dear Letty, as if I should! Then do you suggest that I should go
+and see her?'
+
+'Of course. To-night.'
+
+'To-night?'
+
+'At once. And get the ruby from her somehow; I don't care how, but get
+it. And meet me here in the morning with it in your hand.'
+
+'But, dearest, Miss Bewicke goes to the theatre.'
+
+'I don't care where she goes.'
+
+'Exactly, but I can hardly interview her in the theatre; and, in any
+case, she would scarcely have the ruby with her there.'
+
+'Then see her after.'
+
+'After the theatre?'
+
+'Oh, Guy, don't keep asking me questions! If you only knew how I hate
+the notion of your seeing her at all, especially to solicit a favour
+at her hands. But since I suppose you must, you must get it over. Only
+I know what took place between you before; papa knows and everybody
+knows--heaps of people have told me.' A curious something came into
+her voice, a sort of choking sound. It frightened Mr Holland. 'Guy,
+you must see her to-night--to-night--and never again. Get the ruby
+from her if you have to fight her for it, and meet me here to-morrow
+morning with it in your hand.'
+
+Without a word of warning she scurried from him down the path. He
+called after her.
+
+'Letty!'
+
+'Don't try to stop me. I don't want to speak to you when you're going
+to see that woman.'
+
+There was that in her voice which caused him to deem it advisable to
+take her at her word. He let her go. He remained behind to objurgate
+fickle fortune and other things. He told himself, not for the first
+time,--
+
+'It really was not worth while to see ghosts in Africa for this. If
+spectral visitations all tend this way I bar them. The next ghost I
+see I'll decline to notice it. It shall lead somebody else into a
+mess, not me.' He began to stroll towards the gate, kicking every now
+and then at the pebbles on the path. 'Never thought Letty was such a
+little spitfire. Bless her heart! I love her for it all the more. Who
+can have told her about the mess I made of things with May? I'll swear
+I didn't. These things will out.' He groaned. 'It's past seven. I'll
+go and get something to eat. Then if food screws my courage to the
+sticking point I'll go and interview Miss Bewicke a little later. But
+as for taking that ruby from her _vi et armis_--oh, lord! If ever
+there was a forlorn hope, I'm down for one to-night.'
+
+Miss Bewicke had a flat in Victoria Street. A little after half-past
+eleven Mr Holland addressed himself to the hall porter with an inquiry
+if she was in. There was that in his bearing which suggested that the
+food which he had consumed had not exhilarated him to any appreciable
+extent. In fact, so melancholy was his air that one would not have
+been surprised to learn that it had injuriously affected his
+digestion. The porter regarded him askance.
+
+'Do you know Miss Bewicke?'
+
+'I have that honour.'
+
+'Sure?'
+
+'Tolerably sure.'
+
+'You'll excuse my asking you, but such a lot of people, perfect
+strangers, come hanging about and annoying her that my orders are not
+to let anybody go up if I can help it who isn't a friend of hers. I
+understand you to say that you are a friend.'
+
+'A friend of some years' standing.'
+
+Mr Holland sighed. The porter observed him with dubious glances, being
+possibly doubtful as to the meaning of the sigh.
+
+'I suppose it's all right if you're a friend of hers; you ought to
+know best if you are. I can only say that you'll do no good if you're
+trying it on. I don't know if Miss Bewicke is in; I don't think she's
+returned from the theatre. But you can go up and see. I'll take you up
+in the lift if you like.'
+
+The porter took him up in the lift. On the way Mr Holland asked a
+question.
+
+'Do Miss Bewicke's unknown admirers allow their admiration to carry
+them as far as her private residence?'
+
+'I don't know about admiration. Idiots I call them; and sometimes
+worse. People hang about here all day, and sometimes half the night,
+trying to introduce themselves to her, and I don't know what rubbish.
+Why, I've known half-a-dozen cabs follow her from the theatre to the
+very door.'
+
+'Empty cabs?'
+
+'Not much; a fool, and sometimes two fools, in each.'
+
+'Ah!' Mr Holland reflected. 'If Miss Bewicke had been destined to be
+my wife I wonder how I should have enjoyed her being the object of
+such ardent admiration. Under such circumstances a husband's feelings
+must be worth dissection.'
+
+In reply to Mr Holland's modest knock, the door of Miss Bewicke's
+apartments was opened by a young gentleman well over six feet high,
+who appeared to be in rather a curious frame of mind.
+
+'What the deuce do you want?' was his courteous salutation.
+
+'I want Miss Bewicke.'
+
+'Oh, you do, do you? then just you come inside.'
+
+He took Mr Holland by the shoulder, and that individual, although a
+little surprised at the young gentleman's notion of the sort of
+reception which it was advisable to accord a friendly visitor,
+suffered him to lead him to an apartment which was beyond. This was
+apparently a sitting-room, prettily furnished, particularly with
+photographs, as is the manner of ladies who are connected with the
+theatre, and contained a table which was laid for two. The young
+gentleman still did not release Mr Holland's shoulder. He glared at
+him instead, and put to him this flattering question,--
+
+'Are you the blackguard who has been making himself a nuisance about
+the place this last week and more?'
+
+Mr Holland's reply was mild in the extreme.
+
+'I hope not.'
+
+'You hope not? What do you mean by that? Don't you know you are?'
+
+'I do not. I think the mistake, sir, is yours. May I ask who you are?
+You have your own ideas of how to greet the coming guest. Does Miss
+Bewicke keep you on the premises in order that you may mete out this
+kind of treatment to all her friends? You should be popular.'
+
+'You're no friend of Miss Bewicke's. Don't try to bounce me, sir. I'll
+tell you in two words who I am. My name's Dumville--Bryan Dumville.
+Miss Bewicke is shortly to be my wife. As her affianced husband I
+consider myself entitled to protect her from the impertinent
+attentions of any twopenny-ha'penny bounder who chooses to think that
+because she condescends to appear upon the stage of a theatre he is at
+liberty to persecute her when and how he pleases.'
+
+'Your sentiments do you credit, Mr Dumville.'
+
+'Don't try to soft-soap me, sir. You can speak smoothly enough to me;
+but I will give you ten seconds, before I throw you down the stairs,
+to explain the meaning of your presence here.'
+
+'I think, Mr Dumville, that, if I were you, I should make it a little
+more than ten seconds before, as you put it, you throw me down the
+stairs. I have come to see Miss Bewicke. I am afraid I can only
+explain myself to her.'
+
+'No, you don't. That trick's been played before! It's stale; out you
+go!'
+
+'Don't be an ass, sir!'
+
+'Ass!'
+
+The epithet seemed to add fuel to the excitable Mr Dumville's flame.
+Throwing both arms round Mr Holland, trying to lift him off the
+ground, he proceeded to hustle him towards the door. Mr Holland,
+unwilling to be treated in quite such unceremonious fashion, displayed
+a capacity for resistance for which, possibly, the other was
+unprepared. There was every prospect of a delightful little bout of
+rough and tumble, when an interruption came.
+
+'Bryan! what are you doing?'
+
+The interruption came from a young lady who was standing at the open
+door.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV
+
+                           MR HOLLAND FAILS
+
+
+A Small young lady, daintily fashioned, with a child-like face. She
+was charmingly dressed; a big feather boa was round her neck. As she
+stood there, in spite of the perfection of her attire, she looked more
+like a child than a woman. The men released each other. Mr Dumville
+explained.
+
+'I was only going to throw the fellow down the stairs.'
+
+'Is that all? And what has'--there was a little hesitation; then the
+word was softened by a smile--'the fellow done? And who may the fellow
+be?'
+
+'I don't know. Some bounder, I suppose.'
+
+Mr Dumville seemed slightly disconcerted, as if the situation had not
+quite shaped as he had expected. Mr Holland's hat and stick had fallen
+to the floor. He stooped to pick them up. When he turned there came an
+exclamation from the little lady at the door.
+
+'Guy!'
+
+'Miss Bewicke.'
+
+'Whoever would have thought of seeing you? Why, this is Mr Holland, a
+friend of my childish days.'
+
+She advanced with a tiny gloved hand held out to him. Mr Dumville,
+whose hands were in his trouser pockets, seemed disposed to be grumpy.
+
+'It wasn't my fault; he should have told me.'
+
+'You hardly gave me an opportunity.'
+
+'My dear Bryan, I believe you're a little mad; that is, I believe
+you're a little madder even than I thought you were. Guy, this is
+Bryan Dumville, a gentleman who thinks that he has claims on me.
+Bryan, this is Guy Holland, who was a friend of mine when I was quite
+a little child; and that--how long ago that is!'
+
+'I don't see how I'm to blame. The porter was talking about the fellow
+who has been such a nuisance, saying that he has been making himself
+particularly objectionable to-day, trying to force his way upstairs,
+and I don't know what; and he added that he was hanging about at that
+very moment, and if he turned his back he shouldn't be surprised if
+the blackguard made another try to get at you. I made up my mind that
+if he did I would give him what for. So, when someone knocked at the
+door, and I found it was a man, I went for him.'
+
+'Nothing could be more natural.'
+
+If Mr Holland's tone was a little dry Mr Dumville did not seem to
+notice it; but the lady regarded the speaker with laughter lighting
+all her pretty face.
+
+'Guy, you must sup with us.'
+
+'Thank you, I have not long dined.'
+
+'That doesn't matter; you must eat with us again.' She rang the bell.
+A maid appeared. 'Bring another plate; Mr Holland will join us at
+supper.' Miss Bewicke proceeded to remove her outdoor things, handing
+them to Mr Dumville one by one, talking as she did so. 'Someone told
+me that you were at the other side of the world--at the North Pole, I
+think.'
+
+'Not the North Pole; but I have been to Africa. I only returned last
+night.'
+
+'And you came to-day to see me? How perfectly delightful of you.'
+
+Mr Holland winced. He was conscious that the lady might misapprehend
+the situation.
+
+'The fact is, I have something rather important which I wish to say to
+you.'
+
+'Indeed? How interesting! I like people to say important things to me.
+Say it while we're at supper. That is, if it's something Bryan may be
+allowed to listen to.'
+
+'If I'm in the way I'll go.'
+
+Mr Holland was silent. He felt that Mr Dumville was in the way, but
+that he himself was hardly in a position to say so. Miss Bewicke spoke
+for him.
+
+'My dear Bryan, when you're in the way we'll let you know. Now,
+people, will you please sit down?' They seated themselves at table.
+'What is this very important thing?--must it out?--or will it keep?'
+
+Mr Holland reflected. He thought of Letty, and other things. Miss
+Bewicke seemed disposed to be friendly. Perhaps it was as well there
+was a third person present. He decided to make the running.
+
+'It's this way. My uncle's dead.'
+
+'Your uncle? Mr George Burton? I hope you won't think me dreadful, but
+I cannot say I'm sorry. He was not a person for whom I entertained
+feelings of profound respect.'
+
+'He--he's left rather a peculiar will.'
+
+'I'm not surprised. I should be surprised at nothing he did which was
+peculiar. I never knew him do anything which wasn't. Or worse.'
+
+Mr Holland resolved to plunge.
+
+'He says you have a ruby ring of his.'
+
+'He says?--who says?'
+
+'My uncle--in his will.'
+
+Miss Bewicke laid down her knife and fork. 'Mr Holland, do I
+understand that you intend to suggest that I have in my possession
+another person's property?'
+
+'It's like this. He had a ruby ring, I know it very well. In his will
+he says you have it. He may have given it to you for all I know; he
+did queer things--'
+
+'Thank you.'
+
+'I don't mean that.'
+
+'It doesn't matter. Go on.'
+
+'Anyhow, it's a condition of his will that I'm to get it back from
+you, and if I don't get it back within three months of his death I'm
+to lose his money.'
+
+'I don't in the least understand you. Will you please be so good as to
+make yourself quite clear.'
+
+He made himself as clear as he could, though he did not find it easy.
+Nor was his explanation well received.
+
+'Then am I to gather that you have come to me at midnight, hot-foot
+from Africa, in order to get from me--a ring; a ruby ring?'
+
+'It doesn't sound very nice, but that's the plain truth of it.'
+
+'It's very flattering.'
+
+'Very!'
+
+The chorus came from Mr Dumville, and was accompanied by a glare.
+
+'I can only throw myself upon your mercy, Miss Bewicke, and implore
+you to let me have this ring to save my inheritance.'
+
+Miss Bewicke resumed her knife and fork, which had all this time been
+lying idle. There was a change in her manner, which, though subtle,
+was well defined to Mr Holland's consciousness.
+
+'By the way, Mr Holland, the other day I heard your name associated
+with a person called, I think, Broad. Was it merely idle gossip, or do
+you know anything of a person with a name like that?'
+
+'I do. I know Miss Broad, and very well. I hope she will be my wife.
+She has promised that she will.'
+
+'Ah, you and I know what is the value of such promises, don't we, Mr
+Holland? Is she any relation to Broad, the teaman, in Mincing Lane?'
+
+'She is his daughter; his only child.'
+
+'Indeed! His only child? How delightful! Old Broad has bushels of
+money. How nice for you, of all men, to be received in such a family.'
+
+The airy insolence of the tone was meant to sting, and did, though he
+endeavoured to conceal the fact.
+
+'You haven't answered my question.'
+
+'Haven't I? What was your question?'
+
+'Will you let me have the ring, to save my inheritance?'
+
+'It's such an odd question--isn't it, Bryan? So mysterious.
+Melodrama's not at all my line. They say I'm too small. Do you think
+that I'm too small?'
+
+'I should imagine that you were better fitted to shine in domestic
+comedy.'
+
+His words conveyed a meaning which this time stung her, although she
+laughed.
+
+'But, my dear Mr Holland, what do you want with an inheritance when
+you are going to marry a rich wife--the only child of her father, and
+he a widower. I'm told that old Broad's a millionaire.'
+
+'I'm not marrying her for her father's money; nor for her own. Nor do
+I intend to go to her empty-handed.'
+
+'How chivalrous you are! So changed!'
+
+'Am I to have the ring?'
+
+'Really, Mr Holland, you speak to me as if it were a case of stand and
+deliver. You can hardly know how your uncle behaved or I do not think
+you would broach the subject to me at all. In any case it is not one
+which I can discuss with you. Talk it over with Mr Dumville. Whatever
+he wishes I will do. I always act on his advice; he is so very wise.
+Good-night, Mr Holland. So glad to have seen you. Come soon again.
+Goodnight, Bryan, dear.'
+
+'But you haven't had any supper.'
+
+'Mr Holland has taken my appetite away; he has caused my mind to
+travel back to events which I am always endeavouring to forget. But it
+doesn't matter. Hear what he has to say, and decide for me. King will
+let you both out when your discussion's finished.'
+
+Mr Holland stood up.
+
+'Miss Bewicke, I am very sorry if I have said anything which has given
+you pain or offence. Nothing could have been further from my
+intention.'
+
+'Thank you.'
+
+'But this matter which you treat so lightly--'
+
+'Lightly!'
+
+'Is to me almost one of life and death. I believe that my uncle has
+left something like a quarter of a million.'
+
+'What a sum, Bryan! Doesn't it sound nice?'
+
+'If I can hand this ring to Mr Collyer--'
+
+'To whom?'
+
+'To Mr Collyer, my uncle's solicitor, the money is mine. I have only
+four days left to do it in.'
+
+'Four days! Just now you said three months.'
+
+'The time appointed is three months after my uncle's death. He died on
+the 23rd of February. I have only just become acquainted with the
+terms of his will. So in four days it will be decided if I am to be a
+rich man or a pauper. You see, Miss Bewicke, that my fate is in your
+hands.'
+
+'I really cannot discuss the matter with you now. It would make me
+ill. The strain would be too much for me. I refer you to Mr Dumville.
+Bryan, dear, I leave the matter entirely in your hands.'
+
+'Miss Bewicke--'
+
+Mr Dumville rose.
+
+'Mr Holland, you have heard what Miss Bewicke has said. So far as she
+is concerned the discussion is closed. My dear, let me open the door
+for you.'
+
+He opened the door for her. She passed out, with her handkerchief to
+her eyes. A fact on which Mr Dumville commented.
+
+'You see what you have done, sir--affected her to tears.'
+
+'To what?'
+
+'To tears!'
+
+'Oh!'
+
+'Well, sir, what have you to say to me?'
+
+'To you?'
+
+'Yes, sir, to me. You have said more than enough to Miss Bewicke. Now,
+perhaps there is something which you would like to say to me, as her
+affianced husband.'
+
+'There are one or two things which I should like to say to you, but I
+am inclined to think that I had better not say them to you here. Nor
+do I quite see my way to ask you to come outside, though I should like
+to.'
+
+Mr Holland was savage, and unwise enough to show it. Mr Dumville,
+having polished his eyeglass, replaced it in his eye so that he might
+scan the speaker with a greater show of dignity.
+
+'What on earth do you mean by talking to me like that? If that's the
+kind of remark you wish to make the sooner you get away the better.'
+
+'I am quite of your opinion, Mr Dumville. I shall always remember with
+pleasure that I was able to get away from you.'
+
+Mr Dumville strode forward.
+
+'You be hanged, sir!'
+
+'After you, Mr Dumville, after you.'
+
+'You had better be careful; although I don't want to have a vulgar row
+with you here.'
+
+'Would you mind mentioning a place at which you would? I will try to
+make it convenient to be there.'
+
+Mr Dumville turned and rang the bell.
+
+'What's that for?'
+
+'For the servant to show you out.'
+
+Mr Holland laughed, showing himself out without another word. He was
+conscious of two things--that he had not been particularly discreet,
+and that he would like to make his indiscretion greater by 'taking it
+out' of somebody. It was not often his temper gained the upper
+hand; when it did he was apt to be dangerous both to himself and
+others.
+
+Nor was his mood chastened by a little incident which took place as he
+was about to descend the staircase. From a door which opened behind
+him Miss Bewicke addressed him in mellifluous accents.
+
+'Oh, Mr Holland, will you give my fondest love to dear Miss Broad?
+It's true that I don't know her, but if you tell her what good friends
+you and I used to be I'm sure that she won't mind. I hope to make her
+acquaintance one of these days, and then I'll tell her how fond you
+and I were of one another. Good-night.'
+
+Before he had a chance to answer the door was closed. He went down the
+stairs in a rage.
+
+'The little cat!' he muttered. 'The little cat! who would have thought
+she had such claws?'
+
+As he was going out into the street a woman, running against him,
+almost knocked him over. She was entering the house, apparently in
+hot, unseeing haste; putting up her hand as if to prevent his
+observation of her features; flying up the stairs as if danger was
+hard upon her heels.
+
+Mr Holland adjusted his hat, which she had knocked almost off without
+offering the least apology.
+
+'I wonder what mischief you have been up to? Women are beauties, real
+beauties!'
+
+Having indulged himself in this very cheap piece of cynicism, he,
+metaphorically, shook the dust of the house from off his feet, but had
+not gone a dozen paces when he found himself face to face with his
+cousin, Horace Burton.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER V
+
+                           A WOMAN SCORNED
+
+
+Mr Burton might have been awaiting Mr Holland. He did not seem at all
+surprised to see him there, even at that hour of the night, or,
+rather, morning, for midnight had long since chimed.
+
+'How do, dear boy? So you haven't been letting the grass grow under
+your feet. That's where you beat me; you are so energetic.'
+
+And Mr Burton smiled. That smile was his most prominent feature. It
+was always there. Not that it necessarily denoted mirth. Not at all.
+It might mean anything, or nothing. When he was in a rage he smiled,
+and when he was in the best of tempers; when he wished to be
+agreeable, and when he wished to be nasty--and he could be nasty. He
+was not a bad-looking man, in his way, though there was something
+about him a little suggesting the worst side of the Semite, which
+rather detracted from the general effect. It was difficult to say
+exactly what it was. Whether it was that his nostrils were unduly
+thick, or that so much of his mouth as his heavy moustache suffered to
+be visible was animal, or that his eyes, which were fine of their
+kind, had an odd trick of intently observing you when you were not
+looking at him, and of wandering away into space when you were, it
+would have needed an acute physiognomist to determine, and then that
+physiognomist might have been in error. Certainly there was something
+about Mr Horace Burton which nearly always caused an experienced man
+of the world, on first making his acquaintance, to glance at him a
+first, a second, and again a third time, and then start thinking.
+Perhaps it was that, in spite of his moustache, his chronic smile
+displayed his teeth, which were not nice ones; or because of his soft,
+purring voice, which, when he became excited, had a squeak in it; or
+because of his feline trick of touching a person, with whom he might
+be conversing, with his fingertips, and stroking him, when he got near
+enough to do it.
+
+Mr Holland regarded his cousin in silence. The encounter did not
+appear to astonish him, nor to add to his pleasure either. Mr Burton
+continued.
+
+'Well--have you got it?'
+
+'Have I got what?'
+
+'Ah--you've answered. You haven't. I see. Thanks. It was rather sharp
+work to raid the girl at this hour of the night, don't you think? But
+you always were so keen. Was she nice to you? She used to be, didn't
+she? You've been a lucky chap. I never could make out what women saw
+in you to like. A lot of them have seen something. There's Miss Broad,
+for instance--'
+
+'Don't mention that lady's name.'
+
+'Not mention her name? My dear chap!' Mr Burton placed the finger-tips
+of his right hand against Mr Holland's chest, to have them brushed
+aside as if they were some noxious insect. He went on unmoved. 'She's
+to be my cousin; so I'm told. Unless you've jerked her up. I hear her
+father kicked you out of the house; perhaps you anticipate more
+kicking; in a case like that you can't kick back again. So perhaps
+you're wise to chuck the girl. I tell you what, dear boy.' The
+finger-tips returned, again to be displaced. 'Marry the Bewicke girl.
+Get a special license to marry the girl out of hand. Then you'll get
+the ruby and the money too. It's the only way you will. Hearken to the
+words of a wise man.'
+
+'Mr Burton, although I am so unfortunate as to be a relative of yours,
+I have on a previous occasion been compelled to inform you that I
+decline to hold communication with, or afford you recognition of any
+sort or kind. I repeat that intimation now. With my reasons you are
+well acquainted; their name is Legion. Have the goodness, therefore,
+to let me pass.'
+
+'But, my dear Guy, how about our uncle's money?'
+
+'What about my uncle's money?'
+
+'Our uncle's; forgive the plural, Guy. Hadn't we better come to some
+friendly arrangement while there still is time. You'll never get the
+ruby out of the Bewicke woman; I know her; she's a daughter of the
+horse-leech; she'll see you damned first. Relinquish the chase at
+once--you'll have to in a few hours, anyhow--and throw yourself on my
+magnanimity. There's a suggestion, Guy! Give it up; withdraw at once
+from what you know is a lost game, and I'll present you with a
+thousand pounds. Push the thing through to the bitter end, and you'll
+get nothing.'
+
+'A thousand?--out of a quarter of a million?'
+
+'It would be a gift, Guy--a free gift. It isn't every man who'd
+present a cousin who'd used him as you've used me with a free gift of
+a thousand pounds.'
+
+'Mr Burton, if the money is to be yours, I'll have none of it. I'm not
+disposed to be beholden to your charity, nor to you in any way, as you
+are aware. If it is to be mine, you'll have none of it; I know your
+tastes, and will not pander to their gratification. Let me pass.'
+
+'See how different we are. If the money is to be mine--and it will
+be; it's as good as mine already--I'll give you a few coppers every
+time we meet; I'll even send you some occasionally through the post.
+Good-night! My love to both the ladies!'
+
+Mr Burton hailed a passing hansom and was driven off. Mr Holland
+continued his promenade, but had not gone far before he was accosted
+from behind.
+
+'Mr Holland! Mr Holland!' exclaimed a female voice, as if the speaker
+were in distress for want of breath.
+
+'Who's that?' He turned to see. A feminine figure was hastening
+towards him. 'This promises to be a night of adventure. Has that
+little hussy become humanised and changed her mind?'
+
+The caller approached, holding her hand to her side.
+
+'I wish to speak to you. You know me?'
+
+They stood close to a lamp. Mr Holland looked her up and down.
+
+'I seem to have seen you before. You are the person who rushed into
+the house as I came out.'
+
+'That is it; I rushed--from him!'
+
+She threw out her hand with a dramatic gesture, pointing down the
+street.
+
+'From whom?'
+
+'From your cousin--from Mr Horace Burton. Oh, he is a nice fellow! If
+I had stayed with him much longer I should have killed him; so to save
+myself from killing him I rushed away.'
+
+'My cousin's concerns are not mine. I cannot assume responsibility for
+anything he may do or have done. You are mistaken if you suppose I
+can.'
+
+'I am not mistaken; I know all that. You men are all the same; you
+hang together. If your own brother drives a woman into the gutter, you
+say it is no affair of yours; you pass on, you leave her there. Before
+you open your mouth I know you cannot be responsible for what he has
+done. But you can make me to be revenged on him.'
+
+'Even that I cannot do.'
+
+'You can! I say you can!'
+
+The woman spoke, not loudly, but with such passion and intensity of
+meaning that Mr Holland was conscious of a curious sensation as he
+heard her. She was tall and thin, about thirty, not bad looking, but
+precisely the type of woman the ordinary rake, seeking for a victim,
+would, if he had his senses about him, have left severely alone. She
+was distinctly not a person to be trifled with. Apparently a
+foreigner, because, although she spoke fluent English, there was now
+and then a slight accent and a curious idiom which betrayed her.
+Written large all over her was what, to a practised eye, was
+unmistakable evidence that she was of the number of those who take all
+things seriously, even rakes. One could easily believe that to her a
+promise was a promise, though it came from the mouth of a man; and
+since there are men who regard promises made to women as a sort of
+persiflage, one would have thought that gentlemen who take that
+standpoint would carefully avoid an individual who eyed matters of the
+kind from such an inconveniently different point of view. Mr Horace
+Burton, however, was in some respects an unusual specimen even of his
+class. Possibly the consciousness that he ran the risk of burning his
+own fingers by playing tricks with this particular fire was the lure
+which drew him on.
+
+Anyhow, Mr Holland told himself that this time his cousin had caught a
+Tartar, and became more and more convinced of it as the woman went on.
+
+'My name is Louise Casata; I am Corsican, as he will find, your
+cousin. I am the companion of Miss May Bewicke.' Mr Holland pricked up
+his ears at this, which the woman, with her keen instinct, perceived.
+'Now do you not remember me? I was with her when you used to make love
+to her. I used to think you did it very well. But in those days you
+were fond of her. Now it is of another woman you are fond. Although
+you may have forgotten, do not believe she has.'
+
+This time Mr Holland winced.
+
+'I think that now I do remember you. You used to write letters for her
+and that kind of thing.'
+
+'All sorts of kinds of things. I do everything she tells me to; I am a
+Jack-of-all-trades. I would act for her one day; I can act, but I am
+too large a size. But that does not matter; nor does it matter what
+your cousin has done to me, though you can guess. But you cannot guess
+how he has lied and juggled.'
+
+'I think I can.'
+
+'Then you must know him very well. In which case you have my sympathy.
+What does matter is what you are going to do to him.'
+
+'I am going to do nothing to him.'
+
+'We will see; you will see; they all will see. Be still! Let me speak.
+He has told me about your uncle's will--about the ruby which Miss
+Bewicke has. How, if you get it from her, you are to have all the
+money; how, if you don't, he is to have it all. I know! Very well; you
+will get the ruby. That's what you will do to him. He will be ruined,
+body and soul; though, for his soul, that was lost long ago. If he
+wishes to keep his body out of prison he will have to be quick out of
+England. He will not find it easy. There are those who are watching
+for him too well.'
+
+'Are you sure of what you say?'
+
+'Am I sure! Do I not know? It is only because they think he will get
+his uncle's money that he has not been in prison before. I tell you
+there is a convict's uniform waiting for him in more than one place.
+You will fit it on his back. I shall be revenged. I will go and see
+him when he is in gaol. Every three months he will be allowed to
+receive a visit. I will be his visitor. To see me will give him
+pleasure. I shall have such nice things to say. Oh, yes!'
+
+Mr Holland shivered. There was that about this woman which filled him
+with a sense of vague discomfort.
+
+'I don't like your way of putting things at all!'
+
+'What does it matter what you like? To get the ruby--that is your
+affair.'
+
+'How do you suggest that I am, as you phrase it, "to get the ruby"?'
+
+'You will have to take it.'
+
+'Take it?'
+
+'She will never give it to you--never. She hates you. She also has
+been looking for revenge. Now she has her chance. You behaved badly to
+her. Now she will behave badly to you.'
+
+'I deny that I behaved badly to her. If you were acquainted with all
+the facts you would not judge me with such hard judgment.'
+
+'She thinks that you behaved badly to her, and, for a woman, that is
+enough.'
+
+'Then am I to take it that you only think that Horace Burton has
+behaved badly to you?'
+
+The woman favoured him with a look which made him realise more clearly
+than anything which had gone before what a Tartar his cousin had
+encountered. She was silent for a moment or two. When she did speak,
+she spoke quietly; but it was a quietude in which there was a quality
+which was not peace.
+
+'You think to get me in a rage. I am not such a fool. When I am in
+earnest I am not so easily angered. It is no affair of yours if it is
+only that I think he has treated me badly. It is your affair to get
+the ruby; and I tell you that to get it you must take it.'
+
+'I am so dull as not to understand what you mean when you say that I
+must take it.'
+
+'I will make it clear. You have four days--four only. Good! At one
+o'clock to-morrow night you will come to Miss Bewicke's rooms. She
+will be out. It is Saturday. She goes by the midnight train to
+Brighton until Monday. All will be dark. The front door you will find
+open. You will have but to push it to enter. You will go to her
+bedroom; it is in front of you, the second door on the right as you go
+in. That door, also, will be open. The dressing-table is before the
+window on the left. It has many little drawers. In them are a great
+number of her jewels. In the bottom little drawer on the right-hand
+side facing the glass there is one thing only; it is your uncle's ruby
+signet ring. I know. I have seen it very often. She is not proud of
+the way in which she got it; she calls it "old Burton's scalp." It is
+to her a trophy which she won in battle, so she keeps it all by itself
+in that little bottom drawer. You have but to put your hand in; it is
+yours. You go away; you close the doors behind you; for you the game
+is won.'
+
+Mr Holland stared. The matter-of-fact air with which the proposal was
+made almost took his breath away.
+
+'You are suggesting that I should commit burglary.'
+
+She made a contemptuous movement with her head and hands.
+
+'It is but a word; what does it matter--a word? It is a burglary of
+which you will hear nothing more. I promise you that Miss Bewicke will
+do nothing.'
+
+'And the morality of the proceeding, what of that?'
+
+'Morality!' She laughed. 'The morality! Do not talk to me such
+nonsense! Bah! As if anyone cared for morality except for the sake of
+a----. But I shall not contend with you; you but amuse yourself. You
+understand what I have said?'
+
+'Perfectly. Too well.'
+
+'Very good. Then I shall see you to-morrow night at one o'clock.'
+
+'You will do nothing of the kind.'
+
+'No, I shall not see you, because it will be dark; but you will be
+there. You will find the doors open, and everything as I have said. It
+is already late; I must go. Good-bye.'
+
+She went, fluttering from him up the street at a gait which was half
+walk, half run. He stood looking after her, a little taken aback by
+the abruptness of her departure.
+
+'That woman appears to have formed a high opinion of my character. She
+flatters me.'
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI
+
+                  MISS BROAD COMMANDS A SECOND TIME
+
+
+The next morning, although he was early at the rendezvous, Miss Broad
+was there before him. He saw her before she saw him--or thought he
+did--and, unperceived, as he fancied, stood and watched her. She was
+reading a book, sitting a little sideways, so that he saw her profile
+clearly. It was a brilliant morning, and she was attired for the sun.
+She had on a light grey silky dress, which was covered with flowers,
+and a huge hat, about a yard round, which matched the dress. He
+thought how nice she looked. Of a charm so delicate. Instinct with the
+essence of all things spiritual. He had been depressed as he had come
+through the park. The mere sight of her dispelled the clouds. The
+blood moved brisker through his veins. Seeing how engrossed she was by
+what she read, thinking to take her by surprise, he began to steal
+towards her across the grass--which he ought not to have done. Hardly
+had he stepped over the little iron fence than a stentorian voice
+bawled,--
+
+'Come out of that!'
+
+The invitation was addressed to him, as others, including Miss Broad,
+perceived as well as he did. It was a keeper's civil method of
+suggesting that he should keep off the grass, which, just there, was
+fenced about. He bowed to Miss Broad with a feeble smile, she merely
+nodding in return, without rising from her seat. As he advanced
+towards her along the proper gravel path, he was a little conscious
+that his approach had been robbed of dignity. She received him with an
+air which was a little frigid--still without rising--and beginning at
+once on a subject which he would have liked postponed.
+
+'Well? Have you got it?'
+
+'Have I got what?'
+
+'You know very well what I mean. Have you got the ruby?--as you
+promised.'
+
+'As I promised? My dear Letty, I think that statement is--is a little
+unauthorised.'
+
+'Does that mean that you haven't got it?'
+
+'I'm afraid it does--as yet.'
+
+'Did you try to get it?'
+
+'I did.'
+
+'Did you go and see that woman?'
+
+'I called upon Miss Bewicke.'
+
+'And do you mean to say that she refused to let you have it?'
+
+'If you'll allow me, I'll tell you what took place.'
+
+He told her--a trifle lamely, but still he presented her with a
+sufficiently clear picture of what actually occurred--sufficiently
+clear, that is, to inflame her with indignation. She listened with
+eyes which grew brighter and brighter, and lips which closed tighter
+and tighter. The spiritual side of her became less obvious.
+
+'And do you mean to say that you allowed the creature to trample on
+you without a word of protest?'
+
+'I am not aware that she did trample on me.'
+
+'Not when, according to your own account, she treated you as if you
+were a dog? I wonder you didn't take her into your hands and strangle
+her.'
+
+'My dear Letty!'
+
+'Of course I don't mean that; but you know what I do mean. As for that
+man--that Mr What's-his-name--why didn't you knock him down?'
+
+'In a lady's room? I did suggest that if he liked to step outside I
+should be happy to do him any little service which was in my power.'
+
+'And what did he do?'
+
+'Rang the bell and requested the servant to show me out.'
+
+'And you went? You actually allowed this man to kick you out--for that
+was what it came to--without a word.'
+
+'Well, my dear, Miss Bewicke called out to me as I was going down the
+stairs to say that she sent her love to you.'
+
+'Guy! you dare to tell me such a thing? You allow that creature to
+insult me by sending such a message, or pretending to; and then you
+repeat her insolence to me. The little wretch! So you are ruined.'
+
+'Not yet. There are still about four days between me and the worst.'
+
+'Then do you propose to allow her to have you kicked out of her
+apartments on each of those four days? Besides insulting me? I had
+hardly imagined that you were that kind of person. But one learns.
+Well, I suppose if you don't mind, I needn't. Though I really think
+you might be better off if you returned to Africa before instead of
+afterwards.'
+
+'That is something like the advice which Horace offered.'
+
+She sat up straighter.
+
+'Did you also see Mr Burton last night?'
+
+'He was waiting in the street when I came out of Miss Bewicke's. He
+congratulated me on the result of my visit.'
+
+'Really, you appear to have had a thoroughly enjoyable time. Everybody
+seems to have had a kick at you. For my part, Guy, rather than allow
+people to ride over me rough-shod, as you appear disposed to do,
+I'd--I'd--steal the ruby.'
+
+'You are in accordance with still another piece of advice which I
+received.'
+
+'Guy! what do you mean?' He told her of his interview with Miss
+Casata. When he had finished she drew a long breath.
+
+'Guy, I should do as she says.'
+
+'Letty!'
+
+'I should, I really should. So long as you get the ruby, no matter
+what happens, you can't be worse off than you will be if you don't get
+it. If you don't get it, you are ruined. You will have to go back to
+Africa and stay there for the rest of your life, or, at anyrate, till
+both of us are old; because you know you've no more chance of getting
+money there than you have here, and that's none at all. And you know
+you promised papa, and I promised papa, that you wouldn't marry till
+you had money of your own. And that doesn't mean a pound or two; it
+means a lot. He doesn't like to think you're marrying me for his
+money.'
+
+'Letty!'
+
+'Well, he doesn't; you know he doesn't. Of course I know you're not,
+or should I be sitting here talking to you now? But papa's different.
+And, anyhow, we promised. If there was nothing else to be gained, I'd
+like you to take it if only for the sake of spiting that actress
+creature. I'll teach her to send me messages.'
+
+'But, my dear Letty, I fancy you don't quite realise that you are
+suggesting that I should commit a felony.'
+
+'Felony! Don't talk such stuff and nonsense.' Her words reminded him
+of some of Miss Casata's of the night before. For some cause he
+shivered. 'Doesn't your uncle as good as say she stole it from him?
+And didn't that woman tell you that she's ashamed of it herself, and
+that therefore she hides it away all alone in a drawer? That shows
+that she's perfectly conscious that it's as much your property as
+hers. Indeed, it's much more your property. Your uncle left it to you,
+and she's no right to keep you out of it a single moment. And she
+wouldn't, you know very well that she wouldn't, if it wasn't for me.
+You threw her over--'
+
+'Pardon me, I did not.'
+
+'Then did she throw you over?'
+
+'That's nearer the mark.'
+
+'Really, Guy, you have an agreeable way of commending yourself to me.
+Then am I to understand that she regards you as her cast-off rubbish?'
+
+'We agreed that we had made a mistake. That is the truth of the
+matter. There was no throwing over on either side.'
+
+'Now, Guy, I know more than you suppose. Do you mean to deny that she
+resents the idea of your being about to marry me?'
+
+'She congratulated me on the fact last night.'
+
+'Did she, indeed? How very good of her. And pray how did she
+congratulate you? As if she meant it?'
+
+'I suppose she meant it.'
+
+'You suppose! Do you dare to tell me that you don't know quite well
+that her congratulations were ironical?'
+
+'Well, I confess I had my "doots."'
+
+'There! Didn't I say so all along? Oh, Guy, how difficult it is to get
+things out of you. Now, try to be equally truthful again, and tell me,
+on your word of honour, if you don't know that she would give you the
+ruby without a moment's hesitation if it wasn't for me; that is, if
+the fact of our being engaged to each other didn't prevent you paying
+attention to her?'
+
+'I shouldn't like to put it in that way; but I think it possible that
+Miss Bewicke might prove more malleable if the circumstances were
+other than they are.'
+
+'Precisely. That is what I mean. So promise me that to-night you will
+take your own.'
+
+'My own! Letty!'
+
+'Promise me!'
+
+'But, my dear Letty--'
+
+'Of course there is an alternative. You can throw me over. We, in our
+turn, can agree that we have made a mistake. Then you will be able to
+make yourself agreeable to her; and you will be able to get the ruby
+that way.'
+
+'But, my dear Letty, if you will only be reasonable--'
+
+'It is you who are unreasonable. You allow an idea to mar our lifelong
+happiness. Before you realise how hollow it is it will be too late.
+There will be nothing in front of us but dreary years of waiting. You
+let the cup of happiness be dashed from your hand even when it is
+already at your lips. I release you, Guy. I will not be a clog on you,
+perhaps through all eternity.'
+
+Her tone was sombre, funereal. Mr Holland groaned.
+
+'Oh, Lord! Your logic is as beautiful as you are. It really was worth
+while seeing ghosts in Africa for this!'
+
+She stood up.
+
+'Then go back to Africa and see some more. You shall not stay here to
+laugh at me. Goodbye.'
+
+He caught her by the hand.
+
+'Letty! How can you be so cruel.'
+
+'Then you should do as I ask you. As you would do, without hesitation,
+if you really had a spark of the love you pretend to have for me.'
+
+'I will; I'll do whatever you ask, though I'm ashamed of myself when I
+say so.'
+
+'Promise that to-night you'll take your own?'
+
+'I promise.'
+
+She sat down again, and was as nice as she could be; he only knew how
+nice that was. He would have been as happy as is possible if it had
+not been for the thoughts which were at the back of his head, and the
+prospect which lay in front of him.
+
+Unfortunately, nearly all the time Miss Broad was causing him to
+realise his good fortune in winning the love of such a girl as she was
+he was picturing himself stealing up a flight of darkened stairs, like
+a thief.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VII
+
+                          THE BOTTOM DRAWER
+
+
+That night he realised his own picture.
+
+One o'clock was the hour suggested by Miss Casata. Twenty times before
+that hour arrived he told himself that he had better return to
+Africa--ghosts or no ghosts--than do this thing. It seemed to him that
+dishonour hedged him round about; that whichever way he went he would
+find himself among the thorns. If he did this thing he would break his
+plighted word; quite possibly lose his love and his fortune too. If he
+did the other he might quite possibly find himself up to the neck in a
+slough of misunderstandings--to speak of nothing worse--from which he
+could never emerge as clean as he went in. The choice was a pleasant
+one. Yet he never hesitated as to which horn of the dilemma he would
+thrust himself on. Although very much against his will, he was set on
+burglary. And, being once resolved, set about the business, to all
+outward appearances, as calmly as if such incidents were the mere
+trivialities of his nightly life.
+
+At a quarter after midnight he started to stroll from Charing Cross.
+At the half hour he was sauntering in the Westminster Abbey Gardens.
+He glanced along Victoria Street as far as he could see. An occasional
+omnibus came rumbling along. Cabs flitted to and fro; sometimes
+carriages. But foot passengers were few and far between. And, so far
+as could be seen from the street, the buildings on either side of the
+way were in darkness.
+
+He strolled gently on, swinging his stick, smoking a cigar, as any
+other gentleman might have done who enjoyed the cool night air. Under
+a lamp-post stood a policeman. Mr Holland smiled.
+
+'Good-night, officer!'
+
+He bestowed on him a genial salutation, which the other returned in
+kind.
+
+'Good-night, sir.'
+
+He seemed rather a youngish man, well set up, with broad shoulders and
+a shrewd face. Mr Holland wondered if he should have any professional
+intercourse with him before the night was over. He laughed to himself
+as he thought of it. When he had gone some distance further he stopped
+and turned. The constable had vanished. Presumably his duty had led
+him down one of the side streets. An omnibus was coming in one
+direction, a couple of cabs in the other. Miss Bewicke's rooms were
+close at hand. Should he let the vehicles pass before he came to
+business? It was not yet one. He hesitated, then walked slowly past
+the house, noticing as he went that the front door was closed. What
+did it mean? Was he supposed to knock, calling upon the porter to let
+him in? The notion was absurd. Perhaps Miss Casata had only been
+playing with him after all.
+
+At the idea he laughed again. What would Miss Broad say--and think--if
+the woman had promised more than she could perform? He went nearly as
+far as Victoria, then retraced his steps. As he approached the house
+again Big Ben struck one. He stopped, threw away the butt of his
+cigar, moved to the door. There was a handle. He turned it, it
+yielded, the door was open.
+
+So it seemed that there was some sort of method in Miss Casata's
+madness.
+
+The question was, Where was the porter? Was he within? Upstairs or
+down? He peeped inside the door, or tried to. The street lamps did not
+penetrate; it was pitch dark. He entered, closing the door behind him.
+All was still. As he listened, seeking to peer this way and that, it
+seemed to him that the darkness was like a wall on every side.
+
+'What am I to do? I shall tumble over something if I don't look out; I
+don't even know where the staircase is: Dare I strike a match? I
+wonder what professionals do under circumstances such as these. I've
+heard of their carrying dark lanterns, and such-like mysterious
+things. Unfortunately, I haven't got so far as that, though there's no
+knowing how far I shall get before I've done.'
+
+He moved forward, and kicked against something which made a noise.
+
+'This will never do. I shall come to grief if I don't look out. It'll
+have to be a match.'
+
+He struck one; it ignited with a spluttering noise which seemed to him
+to resemble the explosion of a dynamite cartridge, fizzled, then went
+out.
+
+'This is pretty. But I caught a glimpse of the staircase. I suppose
+I'll have to be content with seeing so much.'
+
+He felt his way to the stairs, presently had his hand upon the rail,
+then commenced to ascend. All at once he stopped.
+
+'Hanged if I haven't forgotten on which floor her rooms are! That's a
+comfortable state of affairs. I can't go prowling all over the place
+playing a game of hide-and-seek with Miss Bewicke's rooms. There'd be
+trouble. Now, what am I to do?'
+
+The question was answered in rather a curious way. Looking up he
+gradually became conscious of what looked like a gleam of light
+somewhere overhead.
+
+'I wonder if that's a hint to me, or if it's the porter. I'm off to
+inquire. If it's the porter I'll have to explain.'
+
+He chuckled to himself at the reflection of the sort of explanation he
+would have to offer. He continued to ascend.
+
+'I hope it's all right, but it seems a good way up. I didn't think she
+occupied quite such an elevated position as this.'
+
+He reached the floor on which was the light, perceiving now that it
+proceeded from a door upon the right which was open but the merest
+fraction of an inch.
+
+'Is that where she resides? I wonder. At least I'll make inquiries.
+I'll knock, as an honest man should do, and see who answers.'
+
+He tapped at the panel softly with his knuckles, so softly that one
+might have been excused for supposing he had no desire that his
+tapping should be heard. There was no response. He tapped again; still
+none. He pushed the door wider open, finding himself in what appeared,
+in the dim light, to be a little hall. Another open door was on his
+right. It was on the other side of this that the light was burning. He
+remembered what Miss Casata had said about Miss Bewicke's bedroom;
+that it was the second door on his right as he entered. Apparently she
+had been as good as her word; better, indeed, for she had placed a
+light to guide him. He advanced to find himself in what was evidently
+a lady's bedroom.
+
+A night light flickered on a table in the centre; it was that which
+had lightened his darkness. He glanced around. Everywhere were traces
+of feminine occupation; knick-knacks which no man would willingly
+suffer in the chamber in which he slept; numerous examples of the
+inevitable photograph. Against a wall hung a crayon portrait. He
+recognised the original--the owner of the room. The pictured face
+seemed to return him look for look, reproaches in its glances. He
+removed his eyes, abashed.
+
+On one side was the dressing-table of which Miss Casata had spoken.
+A gorgeous piece of furniture, of some delicate light wood, with
+gilt and ivory insets. Columns of drawers were on either side; a
+full-length cheval glass swung between them. As he stood in front of
+it he was startled by the reflection of his own image; he felt that
+there was something sinister in the bearing of the man who spied on
+him. The little drawers were those of which he had been told. They
+contained many of Miss Bewicke's jewels. What he sought was in the
+bottom drawer upon his right. Somehow, since he had entered the house,
+everything seemed on his right. He stooped to open it. The drawer was
+locked.
+
+The discovery staggered him more than anything which had gone
+before--that the drawer was locked. At last he was confronted with the
+real nature of the errand he had come upon. Hitherto he had been able
+to salve his conscience with the fact that he had simply passed
+through open doors. Now, if he wished to effect an entrance he would
+have to force one, like any other thief. He gave another try at the
+handle. The drawer refused to budge. It certainly was locked. His eye
+was caught by something which was lying upon the floor, within a foot
+of him. It was a screwdriver. The juxtaposition was suggestive; the
+screwdriver, and the locked drawer. Miss Casata was no half-hearted
+ally; she was thorough. She was aware that, as an amateur, he might
+forget to bring the proper tools; so, with praiseworthy
+thoughtfulness, she had supplied, in advance, his possible omissions.
+
+He was not so grateful as he might have been. He used strong language.
+
+'Curse that woman! It is such as she who drive men along the road to
+hell.'
+
+None the less he took the screwdriver in his hand. He felt its edge.
+It seemed sharp.
+
+'I suppose, since I've gone so far, I may as well see the thing right
+through. It's no good shying at a gnat after tackling a whale. Here
+goes!'
+
+Thrusting the chisel between the woodwork and the drawer, he proceeded
+to prise it open. The lock was but a slight one. It quickly yielded.
+The drawer shot out. He peered within. It contained a small white box,
+apparently of deal. He took it out. Inside was a ruby signet ring. He
+rose with the ring between his fingers.
+
+As he stood up, someone came into the room. Turning, he found himself
+staring at Miss Bewicke.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII
+
+                     THE LADY--AND THE GENTLEMAN
+
+
+Apparently each of the pair was equally surprised. Each stared at the
+other as if tongue-tied; Mr Holland motionless, holding the ring a
+little in front of him, as if suffering from at least temporary
+paralysis; Miss Bewicke, equally rigid, with her fingers up to her
+throat, just as she had raised them intending to remove the boa which
+was about her neck. It was she who first regained the faculty of
+speech.
+
+'Guy!' The word came with a little gasp, as if she uttered it
+unwittingly. He was still; staring at her as if he were powerless to
+remove his eyes from off her face. 'What are you doing?'
+
+Still silence from the man. His incapacity seemed to inspire her with
+confidence. She removed her boa, smiling as she did so. She sauntered
+here and there, eyeing things. She walked right round him, peering at
+him as she went. He might have been some mechanical figure, he endured
+so stolidly her ostentatious curiosity. Only he followed her with his
+glance as she passed round.
+
+She did not speak when she had finished her inspection; with apparent
+indifference to his presence she took off her hat and coat. Unable,
+perhaps, to endure the situation any longer he struggled to obtain
+possession of his voice. It sounded harsh and husky.
+
+'I thought you had gone to Brighton?'
+
+'So you keep an observation on my movements, I see?' The words were
+accompanied by a smile which made him clench his fists so tightly that
+he drove the nails into the palms. She was folding up a veil, with a
+dainty show of peculiar care. 'I ought to be at Brighton; but I'm not.
+I meant to go; but I didn't. It was so late that I put off my journey
+till tomorrow; so I went to see some people instead. It was painfully
+slow; this promises to be better.'
+
+Her airy manner, which seemed to him to be so pregnant with contempt,
+tried him more than reproaches might have done, or rage. He was so
+conscious of his position that indifference stung more than lashes. A
+policeman he could have faced, but not this smiling girl. All his
+self-respect had gone clean out of him; he felt she knew, and
+floundered in his efforts to regain some part of it.
+
+'Miss Bewicke, you know why I am here.'
+
+'To see me, I suppose. So good of you, Guy. Especially as I take it
+that you intended to wait for me till I returned from Brighton.'
+
+'I came to take my own.'
+
+'Your own?'
+
+'This.'
+
+He held out the ring between his finger and thumb. She came nearer, so
+that she might see what it was he held, smiling all the time.
+
+'That--that's mine!'
+
+'It was bequeathed me by my uncle.'
+
+'Your uncle? Impossible; it wasn't his to bequeath.'
+
+'You know the conditions which were attached to its possession. Since
+you declined to give it me--'
+
+'I did not decline.'
+
+'I don't know what other construction you put upon your conduct of
+last night. I gathered that you declined. Therefore, since its
+immediate possession was of capital importance, I came and took it.'
+
+'How nice of you. And you waited till you thought I was at Brighton to
+show your mettle? How discreet! Guy, weren't you once to have been my
+husband?'
+
+Nothing was further from his desire than to become involved in a
+tangle of reminiscences, so he became a little brutal.
+
+'I have the ruby; that is the main point.'
+
+'Are you proud of having robbed me--the girl who was to have been your
+wife?'
+
+'You would have robbed me.'
+
+'Even supposing that to be true, does that entitle you to throw aside
+all those canons of honour to which you have always given me to
+understand you were such a stickler, and become--a thief? Oh, Guy!'
+
+'I do not propose to bandy words with you. I know of old your capacity
+to make black seem white--you were ever an actress, May. How the ruby
+originally came into your possession I cannot say.'
+
+'It's not a pretty story, Guy; scarcely to your uncle's credit.'
+
+'But you were perfectly well aware that morally it was mine. It was
+nothing to you; it was all the world to me. I believe that you refused
+to let me have it precisely because you knew that your refusal might
+entail my ruin; and so your cup of revenge might be filled to the
+full. Under those circumstances I hold that I was justified in using
+any and every means to save myself from being utterly undone by the
+whim of a revengeful woman.'
+
+'I meant to let you have it.'
+
+'That was not the impression you left upon my mind last night.'
+
+'You took me unawares--I had to think things over.'
+
+'Then if it was your intention that I should have it you cannot but be
+pleased to find that my action has kept abreast of your intention.'
+
+Miss Bewicke was silent. She was drawing imaginary pictures with her
+finger-tip on the table by which she was standing, looking down as she
+did so. His desire was to get away; it was not an interview which he
+wished to have prolonged. But his departure was postponed.
+
+'Why do you say I am revengeful?'
+
+'You know better than I.'
+
+'Do you think I wish to be revenged on you because once you pretended
+to love me, and now you keep up that pretence no longer?'
+
+'It was no pretence.'
+
+'I am glad to hear that, because, Guy, I love you still.'
+
+She looked up at him in such a way that she seemed to compel him to
+meet her eyes. He shivered.
+
+'I wish you wouldn't say such things.'
+
+'Why? Because they're true? I like to tell the truth. I have always
+loved you, and I always shall, though I shall never be your wife.'
+
+'I thought you said you were engaged to Dumville.'
+
+'So I am. And I daresay that perhaps one day I shall marry him. I
+don't know quite why. But it certainly isn't because I love him. I
+have never pretended to. Ask him; he's frankness itself; he'll
+confess. Although, as you have only told me, I am a woman with
+ill-regulated passions and irresponsible tendencies, I'm a woman with
+only one love in her life, and you are he. Good-night, and good-bye.'
+
+Now that she had formally dismissed him he felt that it was difficult
+to go. He fidgeted instead.
+
+'I know you think that I have behaved meanly.'
+
+'Not at all. I suppose you have acted according to your lights.'
+
+'I'm not so sure of that. But, the truth is, I was desperate.'
+
+'Indeed? Is that so? Like the man with the twelve starving children,
+who steals the bottle of whisky. I know. If I were you I wouldn't
+trouble to explain. This sort of situation is not improved by
+explanation. I think you had better pocket your booty and go.'
+
+'As for the ruby'--he was holding it out on the palm of his open
+hand--'I will give you another for it a dozen times as good as this.'
+
+For the first time she fired up.
+
+'You dare to do anything of the kind--you dare! Do you think I am to
+be bought and sold?'
+
+'I simply don't wish you to suffer from my action.'
+
+'Do you think that your giving me one piece of stone in exchange for
+another piece of stone will prevent my suffering? Guy, please, go.'
+
+He placed the ring before her on the table.
+
+'There is the ruby.'
+
+'Take it.'
+
+'Do you mean that?'
+
+'I do. If it is of the slightest use to you, by all means take it.'
+
+'You give it to me--freely?'
+
+'Oh, yes, so freely! Only--I wish you'd go.'
+
+Thrusting the ruby into his waistcoat pocket, he went, without another
+word. Without it seemed darker even than before. He stumbled, blindly,
+down the stairs. Presently the darkness lightened; a gleam descended
+from above. Glancing up he perceived that Miss Bewicke was leaning
+over the railing with a lighted candle in her hand. He said nothing;
+attempted no word of thanks. So far as he knew she, too, was still;
+but as he descended, assisted by the light she held, he felt as he was
+convinced the whipped cur must feel, which sneaks off with its tail
+between its legs. The candle was still showing a faint glimmer of
+light as he passed into the street. He applied a dozen injurious
+epithets to himself as he thought that he had not even acknowledged
+the courtesy he had received. But for the life of him he could not, at
+that moment, have uttered a word of thanks.
+
+Now that he was out in the street he raged. In his first mad impulse
+he would have taken what Miss Bewicke had called his 'booty' from his
+pocket and hurled it from him through the night. Prudence, however,
+prevailed. He told himself, again and again, that he was an ineffable
+thing to allow it to remain a second longer in his possession. It
+stayed there all the same. He was conscious that nothing could be less
+romantic than the whole adventure; nothing more undignified than the
+part which he had played in it. He had been throughout a mere
+figurehead--a counter manipulated by three women--he who thought that
+if he had anything on which to pride himself it was his manhood. His
+rage waxed hotter as he strode along; he was angry even with Miss
+Broad.
+
+'If it hadn't been for her--' he began. Then stopped, stood still,
+struck with his fist at the air--his stick, it seemed, he had left
+behind him. 'What a cur I am! I try to put the blame, like some
+snivelling sneak of a schoolboy, upon everyone except myself, as
+though the fault was not mine, and mine alone. Am I some weak idiot
+that I am not responsible for my own actions? that I do a dirty thing,
+and then exclaim that someone made me? Well, it's done, and can't be
+undone, and I stand, self-confessed, a hound; but, as I live, I'll
+return at once and make her take the ruby back again. Then off once
+more for Africa. Better to be haunted by my uncle's ghost than by my
+own conscience.'
+
+He turned, prepared to put his new-born resolution immediately into
+effect, and found himself confronted by an individual by whom his
+steps had been dogged ever since he left Miss Bewicke's. Had he had
+his wits about him he could hardly have helped noticing the fact, the
+proceedings of the person who took such a warm interest in his
+movements had been so singular. To begin with, he had been on the
+other side of the road. When Mr Holland first appeared he had slunk
+back into a doorway, from which he presently issued in pursuit,
+keeping as much as possible in the shadow. When, however, he perceived
+himself unnoticed he became bolder. Until, at last, making a sudden
+dash across the street, he began to follow within a few feet of the
+unconscious pedestrian. He carried something, which every now and then
+he gripped with both hands, as if about to strike.
+
+The mathematical moment came when Mr Holland turned. Without giving
+him a chance to speak the man swung the something which he carried
+through the air, bringing it down heavily, with a thud, upon his head.
+Mr Holland dropped on to the pavement. And there he lay.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX
+
+                              THE FLYMAN
+
+
+The assailant remained, for a second or two, looking down on his
+recumbent victim. He retained his grip upon his weapon, as if
+anticipating the possibility of having to strike with it another blow.
+But, no, the first had done its work. Mr Holland lay quite still, in
+an ugly heap, as men only lie who have been stricken hard. His
+assailant touched him with his foot, as if to make quite sure. Mr
+Holland did not resent the intrusion of the other's boot; he evinced
+no interest in it at all. The man was satisfied.
+
+'That done him.'
+
+It had, for sure. The fellow glanced up and down the street. No one
+was in sight. That was a state of things which could hardly be
+expected to continue. Time was precious; at any moment a policeman
+might appear. Under certain circumstances a policeman is inquisitive.
+The man, dropping on one knee, began to handle Mr Holland as if he had
+been so much dead meat; indeed, a butcher might have been expected to
+finger the carcase of what he had just now killed with greater
+ceremony.
+
+'I wonder where he put it.'
+
+He appeared to be searching for something, which, at first, he could
+not find. He went quickly through the stricken man's pockets, emptying
+each in turn of its contents. He made no bones about putting back what
+he took out, but threw everything into an inner pocket in his own
+jacket. Watch, money, cigar-case, keys, various odds and ends all went
+into the same receptacle. Still he did not appear to light on what he
+sought.
+
+'Suppose he never got it? That would be a pretty little game. My
+crikey!'
+
+He went through the pockets a second time more methodically; coat,
+waistcoat, trousers, nothing was omitted. The result was
+disappointing; they all were empty.
+
+'Has he got it in a secret pocket?' Tearing open the waistcoat, he ran
+his fingers up and down the lining. 'I can't undress the bloke out
+here.' He went carefully over the lining, fingered the trousers. 'I
+don't believe he's got it. If he hasn't, then I'm done. It wasn't
+worth bashing him for this little lot.' The reference was, possibly,
+to what he had transferred to his own jacket. 'If he hasn't got it,
+there'll be trouble. Strikes me I'd better take a little trip into the
+country. He might think I'd got it and done a bunk. I might get a bit
+out of him like that. If he's anything to get. I wish I'd never gone
+in for the job. What's that?'
+
+All the while he had never ceased to finger the silent man, submitting
+his garments to the minutest possible examination which the position
+permitted. Constantly he glanced behind and in front, well knowing
+that the risk of intrusion grew greater with every moment. With what
+looked very like impertinence, he turned the object of his curiosity
+over on to his face. As he did so his eye was caught by something
+which was lying on the pavement, and which apparently had hitherto
+been covered by the body of the silent man. It was a ring. He snatched
+at it.
+
+'Got it, by the living jingo! The whole time the fool was right on top
+of it. If I hadn't overed him I might have gone away and thought he'd
+never had it after all. That'd been a pretty how-d'ye-do. I suppose he
+dropped it when I downed him, and covered it when he fell. He might
+have done it on purpose, just to spite me.' He was standing up,
+turning the ring over and over between his fingers. 'It's all right,
+there's no mistake about that much. This is fair jam, this is. A
+thousand quids into my pocket.' Something attracted his attention.
+'Hollo!--sounded like a footstep--a copper's, unless I'm wrong!'
+
+Without pausing to look behind he crossed the street, keeping well
+within the shadow of the houses, and walking fast, yet not too
+quickly, in the direction of Victoria. As he went he disposed of what
+had proved so efficient a weapon. It was a narrow bag, about a couple
+of inches in diameter, and a little over a foot in length. It was
+stuffed with sand. Untying one end, he allowed the contents to dribble
+out into the areas of the houses as he passed. Nothing remained but a
+strip of canvas. He was cramming this into his pocket as he reached
+the corner of a street into which he turned. A constable was standing
+on the kerb as if waiting for him to come. His wholly unexpected
+appearance might have startled a less skilful practitioner into doing
+something rash. But this gentleman had had too many curious
+experiences to permit himself to readily lose his wits.
+
+'Good-night, p'liceman. Fine night!' he sang out, moving quickly on,
+as if he were hastening on.
+
+'Good-night,' returned the policeman.
+
+He eyed the other as he passed, as if he wondered who he was, yet was
+conscious of no legitimate reason why he should stop him to inquire.
+
+The man drew in the morning air between his teeth, as if he desired to
+inflate his lungs to the full.
+
+'That was a squeak. It wasn't him I nosed. Who'd have thought that he
+was there. If he'd come round the corner a minute or two ago there'd
+have probably been fun. Lucky I emptied the bag before I came on him.
+Hollo! He's going into Victoria Street. If he uses his eyes he'll spot
+my bloke in half a minute from now. I'd better put the steam on.'
+
+He quickened his pace, not breaking into a run, for he was aware that
+nothing arouses attention more than the sight of a man running at that
+hour in a London street. But for the next ten minutes he moved at a
+good five miles an hour, going fair toe-and-heel. Then he slackened,
+judging that for the present he was safe; and, moreover, he was blown.
+
+By what at least seemed devious ways he steered for Chelsea, to find
+himself, at last, in the King's Road. Thence he made for the river
+side, pausing before a house which faced the Thames. The house was an
+old one. In front was a piece of ground which was half yard, half
+garden. The approach to this was guarded by an iron railing and a
+gate. The gate was locked. By it was a rusty bell handle. At this he
+tugged. Almost immediately a window on the first floor was opened
+about three inches. A voice was heard.
+
+'Who's there?'
+
+'It's me, the Flyman.'
+
+'You've been a devil of a time.'
+
+'Couldn't be no quicker.'
+
+The window was shut again. Presently the front door was opened
+instead. A man came out. It was Horace Burton. He sauntered to the
+gate.
+
+'Have you got it?'
+
+'You let me in and then I'll tell you.'
+
+'Don't be an idiot! Tell me, have you got it?'
+
+'I sha'n't tell you nothing till I'm inside.'
+
+'You're an ass! Do you think I want to keep you out?' He fumbled with
+the lock. 'Confound this key; it's rusty.'
+
+'Your hand ain't steady; that's what's wrong with it.'
+
+'Hang the thing!'
+
+The key dropped with a clatter to the ground.
+
+'You let me have a try at it; perhaps my hand ain't so shaky as
+yours.'
+
+The man outside picked up the fallen key, thrusting his hand through
+the railings to enable him to do so. Soon the gate was open. When he
+had entered he locked it again behind him. The two men went into the
+house. When they were in the hall Mr Burton repeated his assertion.
+
+'You've been a devil of a time. Do you think I want to stop up all
+night waiting for you?'
+
+'That's all right. I'll tell you all about it when we get upstairs.
+Who's there?'
+
+'Old Cox is there, that's who's there; and he looks to me as if he
+were going to stop there the rest of his life--hanged if he doesn't.'
+
+Possibly Mr Burton had been quenching his thirst too frequently with
+the idea of speeding the heavy hours of his vigil. The result was
+obvious in his speech and his appearance. At the foot of the staircase
+he stumbled against the bottom stair. The newcomer proffered his
+assistance.
+
+'Steady, governor. Let me lend you a hand.'
+
+Mr Burton was at once upon his dignity.
+
+'Don't you touch me. I don't want your hand. Do you think I don't know
+my way up my own staircase?'
+
+He ascended it as if in doubt. The Flyman kept close behind in case of
+accident. Which fact Mr Burton, when he was half way up, discovered.
+Steadying himself against the banister he addressed his too-assiduous
+attendant.
+
+'Might I ask you not to tread upon my heels? Might I also ask you to
+go down to the bottom of the stairs and wait there till I'm at the
+top? There's too much of it.'
+
+'All right, governor. Only don't keep me here too long, that's all.'
+
+'You haven't kept me long? Oh, no! Not more than thirteen hours.'
+
+When he had reached the top Mr Burton threw open the door of a room in
+which the gas was lighted. In an arm-chair a gentleman was smoking a
+cigar.
+
+'This confounded Flyman thinks that he's the devil knows who. Seems to
+think he owns the place. I think I'll have a drink.'
+
+The gentleman in the arm-chair ventured on remonstrance.
+
+'I wouldn't if I were you; at least, not till we've got this business
+over.'
+
+'Wouldn't you? Then I would. There's something the matter with this
+beastly siphon.'
+
+The matter was that while he directed the nozzle of the siphon in one
+direction he held his glass in another. The result was that the liquor
+did not go where he intended. So he drank his whisky neat.
+
+While Mr Burton was having his little discussion with the siphon, the
+man who had described himself as 'the Flyman' came into the room. He
+was rather over the average height, slightly built, with fair hair and
+moustache and very pale blue eyes. The eyes were his most peculiar
+feature. He was not bad looking, with an agreeable personality; at
+first sight, a likeable man, until you caught his eyes, then you
+wondered. They were set oddly in his head, so that they seldom seemed
+to move. He had a trick of regarding you with a curiously immobile
+stare, which, even when he smiled--which was but rarely--seemed to
+convey a latent threat. He was dressed like a respectable artisan, and
+had such a low-pitched, clear, musical voice that it was with surprise
+one observed how peculiar were his notions of his mother tongue.
+
+As soon as he was inside the room Mr Burton repeated his former
+inquiry.
+
+'Now, then, have you got it?'
+
+'I have.'
+
+'Then hand it over.'
+
+Mr Burton held out a tremulous hand.
+
+'Half a mo. I've got a word or two to say before we come to that. I
+should like you to understand how I did get it. It wasn't for the
+asking, I'd have you know.'
+
+The gentleman in the arm-chair interposed. He waved his cigar.
+
+'One moment.'
+
+'Two, if you like, Mr Cox.'
+
+He was a little, paunchy man, with 'Jew' written so large all over him
+that one asked oneself why he had been so ungrateful to his
+forefathers as to associate himself with such a name as Cox--Thomas
+Cox. He got out of his chair, which was much too large for him, so
+that he could see the Flyman, who still kept himself modestly in the
+background. He punctuated his words by making little dabs in the air
+with his cigar.
+
+'What we want is the ruby; that's all we want. We don't want the
+schedule of your adventures. We're not interested. You understand?'
+
+'Yes, I understand you, Mr Cox, but it don't go.'
+
+'What do you mean, "it don't go"?'
+
+'I'm not all alone in this. There's three of us in this game.'
+
+'Listen to me. You say you've got the ruby. Very well, hand it over. I
+will see you have what Mr Burton promised you. We'll say no more about
+it, and there'll be an end of the matter.'
+
+The Flyman's manner became a trifle dogged.
+
+'I don't hand over nothing till you've heard what I've got to say.'
+
+Something in the speaker's manner struck the observant Mr Cox. He
+showed signs of perturbation.
+
+'Flyman, you haven't killed him?'
+
+'I don't know whether I have or haven't. I hit, perhaps, a bit harder
+than I meant. He was as good as dead when I saw him last; anyhow,
+he'll be silly for the rest of his days, or else I'm wrong. I know
+what a good downer with a sand bag means. I'm a bit afraid I gave him
+an extra good one. I didn't like the looks of him at all.'
+
+'You're a fool! Why did you do it?'
+
+'Because you told me?'
+
+'I told you! What the devil do you mean?'
+
+'You set me on the job--you and Mr Burton together. You said to me
+there's a bloke coming out of a certain house at a certain time. He's
+got something on him which you're to get. You knew very well I wasn't
+going to get it out of him by asking.'
+
+'Did anyone see you?'
+
+'Not while I was at it, so far as I know. But a copper did directly
+afterwards. For all I can tell, he's seen me before, and'll know me
+again.'
+
+Mr Cox's perturbation visibly increased.
+
+'Did he--did he try to arrest you?'
+
+'He didn't know what had happened then; but he was going straight to
+where I'd left the bloke lying. Then, of course, he'd put two and two
+together, and think of me.'
+
+'Flyman, you're a fool! Did anybody see you come in here?'
+
+'That's more than I can say. But somebody'll soon know I did come in
+here if anything happens to me. I'm not going to be on this lay all on
+my own.'
+
+Mr Cox threw his unfinished cigar into the fireplace. It had gone out.
+His attention was occupied by matters which rendered smoking
+difficult. He stood knawing the finger-nails of his left hand. The
+Flyman watched him. Mr Burton seemed to be endeavouring to obtain
+sufficient control of his faculties to understand what the
+conversation was about. Presently Mr Cox delivered himself of the
+result of his cogitation.
+
+'I tell you what, I shouldn't be surprised if a little trip abroad
+would do you good.'
+
+'I'm willing.'
+
+'Then I'll see that you have a berth on board a boat I know of, which
+leaves the London docks to-morrow for America.'
+
+'I'm game.'
+
+'Now, let's have the ruby.'
+
+'Against the quids?'
+
+'Against the quids. You don't suppose that Mr Burton and I carry a
+thousand pounds about with us loose in our pockets?'
+
+'No quids, no ruby.'
+
+'The money shall be handed to you when you're on board the ship.'
+
+'I'll see that the ruby isn't handed to you till it is.'
+
+'Do you think I want to do you?'
+
+'I'm dead sure you do, if you only get a chance. I've done a little
+business with you before to-day, Mr Cox. You must think I'm soft. Why,
+nothing would suit your book better than to do me out of the pieces
+and get me lagged. But if you try that game, I'll see you get a bit of
+it. Thank you; I don't trust you, not as far as I can see you, Mr
+Cox.'
+
+The gentleman thus flatteringly alluded to laughed, a little
+mechanically.
+
+'I'm sorry to hear you talk like that, Flyman. There's no time now to
+try to induce you to form a better opinion of me; but you'll discover
+that you have done me an injustice before very long. Anyhow, let's see
+that you have the ruby.'
+
+Mr Burton chose this moment to awake to the fact that he had a very
+definite interest in the discussion which was being carried on. He
+banged his glass against the table.
+
+'I'm going to have that ruby! I'm going to have it now!'
+
+'So you shall, when you've given me the thousand pounds.'
+
+'I don't care about the thousand pounds; I'm going to have the ruby!'
+
+'Then, I'm damned if you are!'
+
+'I say I am. Now, then! So you'd better give it to me--before I take
+it.'
+
+The speaker staggered towards the Flyman.
+
+'Don't you be silly, Mr Burton, or you might find me nasty; and I
+don't want to have to be nasty to you.'
+
+'Give me the ruby; it's mine.'
+
+'That's where you're wrong. Just now it happens to be mine.'
+
+Mr Cox placed himself between the pair.
+
+'Pretend to be sober, Burton, even if you're drunk.'
+
+'I am sober. I don't care that for him.' He tried to snap his fingers,
+but the attempt was a disastrous failure. 'I say, I'm going to have
+the ruby now, and so I am.'
+
+'Shut it!'
+
+Mr Cox's treatment of the intoxicated gentleman was vigorous and to
+the point. He gave him a push which propelled him backwards with such
+unexpected force that, before he was able to recover himself, he was
+lying on the ground.
+
+There for a time he stayed. The others paid no attention to him
+whatever. Mr Cox continued the discussion on his own account.
+
+'Let me see the ruby.'
+
+'Let me see the quids.'
+
+'Look here, Flyman; you say you know me. Well, I know you; I know you
+for a windbag and a liar. It's quite likely that all you've been
+telling us is humbug, and that you've not been within miles of what we
+want. If you've got the ruby, you let me look at it; there'll be no
+harm done. I'm not going to buy a pig in a poke, and I'm not going to
+steal it.'
+
+'I lay you are not going to steal it; I lay that. There it is. Now,
+you can take and look at it.'
+
+Taking a ring from his waistcoat pocket, slipping it on to his little
+ringer, he held it out for the other's inspection, eyeing Mr Cox in a
+very singular manner as that gentleman bent over to examine it.
+
+'Did you get that from--the person we've been talking about?'
+
+'I did.'
+
+'To-night?'
+
+'To-night. Not an hour ago--as he came out of the house.'
+
+Mr Cox turned to Mr Burton, who was sitting upon the floor.
+
+'Get up, you jackass! Come here and see if this is what we're after.'
+
+Mr Burton's answer was not exactly a response to this peremptory
+invitation.
+
+'I'm not feeling--as I ought to feel.'
+
+'So I should think. You'll soon be feeling still less as you ought to
+feel, if you don't look out.' He assisted the gentleman on to his
+feet. 'Now, then, pull yourself together. Come and see if what the
+Flyman's got is your uncle's ring.'
+
+As Mr Burton advanced, the Flyman dropped the hand with the ringed
+finger.
+
+'Don't you let him snatch at it, or I'll down him.'
+
+'He won't snatch at it. You needn't be afraid of him.'
+
+'I'm not afraid of him--hardly; only I thought I'd just give you a
+little warning, that's all. There you are, Mr Burton; there's what's
+worth more to you than you're likely to tell me.'
+
+Mr Burton only bestowed upon the outstretched hand a momentary glance;
+he drew back as if what he saw had stung him.
+
+'It's not!'
+
+'What d'ye mean?'
+
+'It's not my uncle's ring.' The fall, or something, had sobered him.
+He had become disagreeable instead. He snarled, showing his teeth to
+the gums, as if he would have liked to assail the man in front of him
+with tooth and nail. 'Curse you, Flyman! what's the game you're
+playing?'
+
+'What's the game you think you're playing, that's what I want to
+know?'
+
+'That's not my uncle's ring, and you know it's not. Come, out with it!
+no tricks here!'
+
+'This is your uncle's ring, and you're trying to kid me that it isn't,
+thinking to do me out of what you promised. Don't you try that on, Mr
+Burton, or you'll be sorry.'
+
+The two men glared at each other with their faces close together, Mr
+Burton meeting the Flyman's threatening glances without flinching. He
+turned to Mr Cox.
+
+'Cox, what he's got on his finger is no more my uncle's ring than I
+am.'
+
+'You're sure of that?'
+
+'Dead certain. The stone in my uncle's ring was much larger, better
+colour, finer altogether. It bore his crest--on that thing there seems
+to be a monogram--and inside the gold mount, at the back, his name was
+engraved--"George Burton."'
+
+'We can soon settle that part of the question. Flyman, is there a name
+inside that ring?'
+
+The Flyman was already looking for himself.
+
+'There's not; there's no name. Is this a plant between you two to do
+me out of my fair due?'
+
+'Don't you make any mistake about that, my man. If that's the ring we
+want you shall have your thousand right enough. It's worth all that to
+us. If it's not, then it's worth nothing, and less than nothing. Don't
+let's have any error about this, Burton. You're quite sure that you
+recollect what your uncle's ring was like?'
+
+'I'd pick it out among ten thousand. I've seen it hundreds--I should
+think, thousands--of times. I wore it myself for a year. It used to
+amuse the old man to fool about with it, lending it to all sorts of
+people. He lent it to me, and he lent it to Guy. I believe he lent it
+to Miss Bewicke; and it was because, when he asked her, she wouldn't
+give it him back again that he got his back up.'
+
+'I suppose, Flyman, it was Mr Holland you tackled?'
+
+'It was the bloke you pointed out to me this afternoon--that I do
+know. Here, I borrowed these things from off him--took them out of his
+pockets.' He produced a miscellaneous collection. 'Here's a cigar-case
+with initials on it, "G. H.," and cards inside with a name on them,
+"Mr Guy Holland." I should think that that ought to be about good
+enough.'
+
+'You're sure that that was the only ring he had about him?'
+
+'I'll swear to it. I ran the rule over him quite half a dozen times.
+He only had one ring--there wasn't one upon his hands--and that's it.'
+
+'And you, Burton, are certain it's not your uncle's?'
+
+'As sure as that I'm alive.'
+
+'Then, in that case, we're done.'
+
+The trio looked as if they were.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER X
+
+                      SHE WISHES THAT SHE HADN'T
+
+
+Miss Broad had a very bad night. That was because of her conscience,
+which pricked her. Almost as soon as Mr Holland had left her she
+regretted the advice she had given him--advice, she had the candour to
+admit, as applied to this case, being but a feeble word. She had
+bullied him into committing burglary! It was awful to think of, or, at
+least, it became awful by degrees. A sort of panorama of dreadful
+imaginings began to unfold itself in front of her. She even pictured
+him as being caught in the act, arrested, thrown into gaol, tried,
+sentenced to penal servitude, working in the quarries--she had heard
+of 'the quarries'--because of her. She did not pause to consider that,
+after all, he was responsible for his own actions. He loved her; by
+obedience he proved it, even to the extent of committing burglary.
+Therefore, the blame of what she did was on her shoulders.
+
+So she upbraided herself, regretting too late, as ladies sometimes do,
+the line of action she had taken up with so much vigour.
+
+'I wish I'd bitten my tongue off before I'd been so wicked. The truth
+is, I really believe I'd like to kill that woman. Ellen, you needn't
+pull my hair right out.'
+
+The first two remarks were addressed to herself, the last, aloud, to
+her maid. That young person, who was dressing Miss Broad for dinner,
+found her mistress in rather a trying mood.
+
+'If he was detected in the act, he would be at that woman's mercy. She
+might compel him to do anything in order to avoid open humiliation and
+disgrace and ruin.'
+
+At the thought of what he might be compelled to do, she was divided
+between terror, tears and rage. Since the woman had once pretended to
+love him, and, no doubt, was still burning with a desire to be his
+wife, she might even force him--oh, horrible!
+
+'Ellen, you're pulling my hair again.'
+
+Which was not to be wondered at, considering how unexpectedly the
+young lady jerked her head.
+
+She ate no dinner, excused herself from two engagements, made herself
+generally so agreeable that she drove her father to remark that her
+temper was not improving, and he pitied the man who had anything to do
+with her. Which observation added to her misery, for she knew quite
+well that her temper was her weakest point. She was a wretch, and she
+had ruined him!
+
+Throughout the night she scarcely slept. She was continually getting
+off the bed to pace the room, exclaiming,--
+
+'I wonder if he's doing it now?'
+
+She must have wondered if he was doing it 'now' nearly a hundred
+times, apparently under the impression that 'it' was an operation
+which took time.
+
+The result was that, when the morning came, she did not feel rested,
+and looked what she felt, causing her father--an uncomfortably
+observant gentleman, who prided himself, with justice, on being able
+to say as many disagreeable things as any man--to remark that she
+looked 'vinegary,' which soured Miss Broad still more.
+
+She had an appointment with Mr Holland, at the usual place in Regent's
+Park, for ten. They were to have a little conversation; then,
+together, they were to go to church. She was at the rendezvous at
+nine, though how she managed to do it was a mystery even to herself.
+At ten minutes past she began to fidget, at the half-hour she was in a
+fever, and when ten o'clock struck, and there was no Mr Holland, she
+was as nearly beside herself as she could conveniently be.
+
+'He's never been late before--never, never! Oh, what has happened?'
+
+She went a little way along a path by which she thought that he might
+come; then, fearful that after all he might come another way,
+tremulously retracing her steps, she returned to the seat. But she
+could not sit still, nor stand still either. She was up and down,
+sitting and standing, fidgeting here and there, glancing in every
+direction, like the frightened creature she was rapidly becoming.
+Every nerve in her body was on edge. When the quarter struck, and
+there were no signs of Mr Holland, she could restrain herself no
+longer. Tears blinded her eyes; she had to use her handkerchief before
+she could see. It would have needed very little for her to become
+hysterical.
+
+She knew her man--his almost uncanny habit of punctuality. She was
+certain that, if nothing serious had happened to prevent him, he would
+have been in time to a moment. She was sure, therefore, that something
+had happened. But what?
+
+As she vainly asked herself this question, a boy came along one of the
+paths. He was a small child, about nine years of age, evidently
+attired in his Sunday best. He carried something in his hand. Coming
+up to her, he said,--
+
+'Are you Miss Broad?' She nodded; she could not speak. 'I was told to
+give you this.'
+
+He handed her the envelope. She jumped to the conclusion that it came
+from him. Her delight at receiving even a message from him about
+scattered her few remaining senses.
+
+'I'll give you sixpence.' She spoke with a stammer, fumbling with her
+purse. 'I haven't one; I'll give you half-a-crown instead.'
+
+The boy went off mumbling what might have been meant for thanks,
+probably too surprised at the magnitude of the gift to be able to make
+his meaning clear. She tore the envelope open. It contained half a
+sheet of paper, on which were the words,--
+
+'If you want Mr Guy Holland, inquire of Miss May Bewicke.'
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI
+
+                     THE PURSUIT OF THE GENTLEMAN
+
+
+That was all.
+
+Miss Broad's first blundering impression was that somebody was having
+a joke with her--that she was mistaken, had read the words askew. She
+looked again.
+
+No; the error, if error there were, was, to that extent, certainly not
+hers; the words were there as plain as plain could be, and they only.
+
+'If you want Mr Guy Holland, inquire of Miss May Bewicke.'
+
+They were typewritten, occupying a couple of lines. The rest of the
+sheet was blank--no address, no date, no signature; not a hint to show
+from whom the message could have come. She looked at the envelope. The
+face of it was blank; there was nothing on it, inside or out. Where
+was the boy who had brought it? She turned to see. He had gone, was
+out of sight. So far as she could perceive, she had the immediate
+neighbourhood entirely to herself. What did it mean?
+
+The disappointment was so acute that, as she sank back upon the seat,
+the earth seemed to be whirling round in front of her. She never quite
+knew whether for a second or two she did not lose her senses
+altogether. When next she began to notice things, she perceived that
+the envelope had fallen to the ground, and that the half sheet of
+paper would probably have followed it had it not been detained by a
+fold in her dress. She examined them both again, this time more
+closely, without, however, any satisfactory result.
+
+Of the typewritten words she could make neither head nor tail. Were
+they meant as a hint--a warning--what? Anyhow, from whom could they
+have come--to her, there, in the Park? Why had she not asked the boy
+who had instructed him to give the envelope to her? What a simpleton
+she had been!
+
+'"Inquire of Miss May Bewicke." What can it mean? "Inquire of Miss May
+Bewicke." Unless--'
+
+Unless it meant something she did not care to think of. She left the
+sentence unfinished, even in her own mind.
+
+She arrived at a sudden resolution. It was too late for church, or she
+told herself it was, supposing her to have been in a church-going
+mood, which she most emphatically was not. Instead of church she would
+go to Mr Holland's rooms in Craven Street, and inquire for him there.
+Under the circumstances, anything, including loss of dignity--and she
+flattered herself that dignity, as a rule, was her strong point--was
+better than suspense.
+
+She had some difficulty in finding a cab. In that district of town,
+cabs do not ply in numbers on Sunday morning. By the time she
+discovered one she was hot, dusty and, she feared, dishevelled. As the
+vehicle bore her towards the Strand, her sense of comfort did not
+increase. If he was not in Craven Street, what should she do? Ye
+saints and sinners! if he were in gaol!
+
+He was not in Craven Street.
+
+A matronly, pleasant-faced woman opened the door to her.
+
+'Is Mr Holland in?'
+
+'No, miss, he's not.'
+
+'Has he been long gone out?'
+
+'Well, miss, he hasn't been in all night.'
+
+The young lady shivered. The landlady eyed her with shrewd, yet not
+unfriendly, eyes. She hazarded a question,--
+
+'Excuse me, miss, but are you Miss Broad?'
+
+'That is my name.'
+
+'Would you mind just stepping inside?'
+
+The landlady led the way into a front room. The first thing the young
+lady saw on entering was her photograph staring at her from the centre
+of the mantelshelf. A little extra colour tinged her cheeks. The
+landlady glanced from the original to the likeness, and back again.
+
+'It's very like you, miss, if you'll excuse my saying so. You see, Mr
+Holland has told me all about it. You have my congratulations, if I
+might make so bold, for a nicer gentleman I never want to see. I was
+that pleased when I saw him come walking in the other day. Did you
+expect to see him, miss?'
+
+'I had an appointment with him. He never kept it. As he has never done
+such a thing before, I scarcely knew what to think.'
+
+'Well, miss, the truth is, I hardly know what I ought to say.'
+
+'Say everything, please.'
+
+'It was only his nonsense, no doubt, but when he was going out last
+night I asked him if he should be late. "Well, Mrs Pettifer," he said,
+"if I am late, you'd better make inquiries for me at Westminster
+Police Station, for that's where I shall be; they'll have locked me
+up." When Matilda told me this morning that he hadn't been in all
+night, I thought of his words directly, because he'd ordered his
+breakfast for eight o'clock this morning, and, as you say, he's always
+so dependable--Why, miss, whatever is the matter?'
+
+Miss Broad, who had found refuge in an armchair, was looking very
+queer indeed.
+
+'Don't you take on, miss. It was only his fun. Mr Holland's full of
+his jokes. Heaps of gentlemen stay out all night; nothing's happened.'
+
+But the young lady was not to be comforted. She had her own reasons
+for being of a different opinion. That allusion to Westminster Police
+Station did not sound like a joke to her. When she quitted Craven
+Street, she directed the cabman to drive her to a certain number in
+Victoria Street. She was staring as she went at the two typewritten
+lines which the mysterious boy had brought in the mysterious envelope.
+
+'I will inquire of Miss Bewicke. It will be better to begin there
+than--at the other place. There will be time enough for that
+afterwards. If--if she should have locked him up!'
+
+The potentiality was too horrible. She could not bear to contemplate
+it. Yet, willy-nilly, it intruded on her fears.
+
+She ascended in the lift to Miss Bewicke's apartments. She knocked
+with a trembling hand at Miss Bewicke's door. She had to knock a
+second time before an answer came. Then the door was opened by a tall,
+thin, saturnine-looking woman, to whom the visitor took a dislike upon
+the spot.
+
+'Is Miss Bewicke at home?'
+
+'Will you walk in?' It was only when Miss Broad had walked in that she
+learned that her quest was vain. 'Miss Bewicke is not at home. She
+went to Brighton this morning.'
+
+'This morning? I thought she was going last night.'
+
+'Who told you that?'
+
+There was something in the speaker's voice which brought the blood to
+Miss Broad's cheeks with a rush. She stammered.
+
+'I--I heard it somewhere.'
+
+'Your information was learned on good authority; very good. Oh, yes,
+she meant to go last night, but she was prevented.'
+
+'Prevented--by what?'
+
+'I am not at liberty to say. Are you a friend of Miss Bewicke's?'
+
+There was something in the woman's manner which Miss Broad suspected
+of being intentionally offensive. She stared at her with bold,
+insolent eyes, with, in them, what the young lady felt was the
+suggestion of an insolent grin. That she knew her, Miss Broad was
+persuaded; she was sure, too, that she was completely cognisant of the
+fact that she was not Miss Bewicke's friend.
+
+'I am sorry to say that I am not so fortunate as to be able to number
+myself among Miss Bewicke's friends. I have not even the pleasure of
+her acquaintance.'
+
+'That is unfortunate, as you say. About her friends Miss Bewicke is
+particular.'
+
+The suggestion was so gratuitous that Miss Broad was startled.
+
+'Are you a friend of hers?'
+
+'I am her companion; but not for long. You know what it is for one
+woman to be a companion to another woman. It is not to be her friend.
+Oh, no. I have been a companion to Miss Bewicke for many years; but
+soon I go. I have had enough.'
+
+The woman's manner was so odd that Miss Broad wondered if she was a
+little touched in the head, or if she had been drinking. She looked
+round the room, at a loss what to say. Her glance lighted on a large
+panel photograph which occupied the place of honour on the
+mantelpiece. It was Mr Holland. She recognised it with a start. It was
+the best likeness of him she had seen. He had not given her a copy,
+nor any portrait of himself, which was half as good.
+
+Miss Bewicke's companion was watching her.
+
+'You are looking at the photograph? It is Mr Holland, a friend of Miss
+Bewicke's, the dearest friend she has in the world.'
+
+'You mean he was her friend?'
+
+'He was? He is--none better. Miss Bewicke has many friends--oh, yes, a
+great many; she is so beautiful--is she not beautiful?--but there are
+none of them to her like Guy.'
+
+The woman's familiar use of Mr Holland's Christian name stung Miss
+Broad into silence. That she lied she knew; to say that, to-day, Mr
+Holland was still Miss Bewicke's dearest friend was to attain the
+height of the ridiculous. That the young lady knew quite well. She was
+also aware that, for some reason which, as yet, she did not fathom,
+this foreign creature was making herself intentionally offensive. None
+the less, she did not like to hear her lover spoken of in such fashion
+by such lips. Still less did she like to see his portrait where it
+was. Had she acted on the impulse of the moment, she would have torn
+it into shreds. And perhaps she might have gone even as far as that
+had she not perceived something else, which she liked, if possible,
+still less than the position occupied by the gentleman's photograph.
+
+On a table lay a walking-stick. A second's glance was sufficient to
+convince her of the ownership. It was his--a present from herself. She
+had had it fitted with a gold band; his initials, which she had had
+cut on it, stared her in the face. What was his walking-stick--her
+gift--doing there?
+
+The woman's lynx-like eyes were following hers.
+
+'You are looking at the walking-stick? It, also, is Mr Holland's.'
+
+'What is it doing here?'
+
+The woman shrugged her shoulders.
+
+'He left it behind him, I suppose. Perhaps he was in too great a
+hurry, or Miss Bewicke. Sometimes, when one is in a great hurry to get
+away, one forgets little things which are of no importance.'
+
+She called his walking-stick--her gift to him--a thing of no
+importance! What was the creature hinting at? Miss Broad would not
+condescend to ask, although she longed to know.
+
+'As I tell you, Miss Bewicke is not at home. She is at the Hotel
+Metropole at Brighton. Would you like to take Mr Holland's
+walking-stick to--her?' There was an accent on the pronoun which the
+visitor did not fail to notice. 'What name shall I give to Miss
+Bewicke?'
+
+'I am Miss Broad.'
+
+'Miss Broad--Letty Broad? Oh, yes, I remember. They were talking and
+laughing about you--Mr Holland and she. Perhaps, after all, you had
+better not go down to Brighton.'
+
+When the young lady was back in the street, her brain was a tumult of
+contradictions. That the woman who called herself Miss Bewicke's
+companion had, for reasons of her own, been trying to amuse herself at
+her expense she had not the slightest doubt. That Mr Holland's
+relations with Miss Bewicke were not what were suggested she was
+equally certain. None the less she wondered, and she doubted. What was
+his portrait doing there? Still more, what was his walking-stick? He
+was carrying it when they last met. Under what circumstances, between
+this and then, had it found its way to where it was? Where was Mr
+Holland? That there was a mystery she was convinced. She was almost
+convinced that Miss Bewicke held the key to it.
+
+Should she run down to Brighton and find out? She would never rest
+until she knew. She had gone so far; she might as well go farther. She
+would be there and back in no time. The cabman was told to drive to
+Victoria. At Victoria a train was just on the point of starting. Miss
+Broad was travelling Brightonwards before she had quite made up her
+mind as to whether she really meant to go. When the train stopped at
+Clapham Junction, she half rose from her seat and all but left the
+carriage. She might still be able to return home in time for luncheon.
+But while she dilly-dallied, the train was off. The next stoppage was
+at Croydon. There would be nothing gained by her alighting there; so
+she reached Brighton, as she assured herself, without ever having had
+the slightest intention of doing it. Therefore, and as a matter of
+course, when the train rattled into the terminus she was not in the
+best of tempers. She addressed sundry inquiries to herself as she
+descended to the platform.
+
+'Now what am I to do? I may as well go to the Metropole as I am here.
+I am not bound to see the woman even if I go. And as for speaking to
+her'--she curled her lip in a way which was intended to convey a
+volume of meaning--'I suppose it is possible to avoid the woman, even
+if I have the misfortune to be under the same roof with her. The
+hotel's a tolerable size; at anyrate, we'll see.
+
+She did see, and that quickly. As she entered the building, the first
+person she beheld coming towards her across the hall was Miss May
+Bewicke.
+
+Which proves, if proof be necessary, that a building may be large, and
+yet too small.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XII
+
+                   THE TENDER MERCIES OF TWO LADIES
+
+
+By way of a commencement, Miss Broad was conscious of two things--that
+Miss Bewicke was looking her best; that she herself was looking her
+worst; at least, she was nearly certain she was looking her worst, she
+felt so hideous.
+
+Miss Bewicke had a knack of walking--it came by nature, though there
+were those who called it a trick--which gave her a curious, and,
+indeed, humorous, air of importance altogether beyond anything her
+stature seemed to warrant. This enabled her to overwhelm men, and even
+women who were much taller than herself, with a grace which was
+positively charming. She moved across that spacious hall, looking
+straight at Miss Broad, as if there was nothing there; and was walking
+past with an apparent unconsciousness of there being anyone within a
+mile, though she brushed against the other's skirts as she passed,
+which was a little more than Miss Broad could endure. She was not
+going all the way to Brighton to be treated by that woman as if she
+were a nonentity.
+
+'Miss Bewicke!'
+
+The lady, who had passed, turned.
+
+'I beg your pardon?'
+
+'Can I speak to you?'
+
+'Speak to me?' She regarded the other with a smile which, if pretty,
+was impertinent. 'I'm afraid I haven't the pleasure.'
+
+'I am Miss Broad.'
+
+'Broad?--Broad? I don't seem to remember.'
+
+'Perhaps you remember Mr Holland.'
+
+'Mr Holland?--Guy Holland? Oh, yes, I have good cause for remembering
+him.'
+
+'Mr Holland has spoken of me to you?'
+
+'Oh! You are that Miss Broad! I have pleasure in wishing you good
+morning.'
+
+Miss Bewicke walked off as if, so far as she was concerned, the matter
+was at an end; but so abrupt a termination to the interview the other
+would not permit.
+
+'I am sorry to detain you, Miss Bewicke, but, as I have said, I wish
+to speak to you.'
+
+'Yes. What do you wish to say?'
+
+'Can I not speak to you in private?'
+
+'By all means.' Miss Bewicke led the way into a sitting-room. As soon
+as they were in, and the door closed, before the other had a chance to
+open her lips, she herself began the ball. 'Miss Broad, before you
+speak, there is something which I wish to say to you. You incited Mr
+Guy Holland to commit, last night, a burglary upon my premises.'
+
+If she expected the other to show signs of confusion, or to attempt
+denial, she was mistaken. Miss Broad did not flinch.
+
+'I did.'
+
+'You admit it?'
+
+'I do.'
+
+'Are you aware that in so doing you were guilty of a criminal action?'
+
+'As to that I know nothing, and care less.'
+
+'I have only to send for a policeman to have you sentenced to a term
+of imprisonment.'
+
+'I understand how it is you have been so successful on the stage. You
+really are an excellent actress. You bear yourself as if you were the
+injured party, while all the time you know very well that it was
+precisely because you had robbed him that I advised him to despoil you
+of your booty.'
+
+'You are perfectly aware that that is false.'
+
+'On the contrary, I am perfectly aware that it is true. Where is Mr
+Holland? Is he here with you?'
+
+'Miss Broad!'
+
+'Or did you dare to make his doing, what you know he was perfectly
+justified in doing, an affair of the police?'
+
+'I came upon Guy Holland, at dead of night, engaged in robbing me, and
+I sent him from me with my blessing.'
+
+'Then where is he?'
+
+'I know no more than this chair.'
+
+'Miss Bewicke, I called at your rooms this morning. I saw his
+walking-stick upon your table. When I asked how it came there, the
+woman who had opened the door said, in effect, that he had left it
+behind in his hurry to go away with you.'
+
+'The woman! What woman?'
+
+'She said she was your companion.'
+
+'Casata? Louise Casata never said anything so monstrous.'
+
+'Not in so many words; but that was what she intended me to
+understand.'
+
+'You believed it? What a high opinion you appear to have of us! Guy
+must be worse even than I imagined, or you, his promised wife, would
+not judge him with such hard judgment.'
+
+'I did not believe it; but I did believe that you called in the police
+last night.'
+
+'I didn't; I called in no one. I simply told him to go, and he went.'
+
+'You are laughing. You know where he is. I can see it in your face.'
+
+'Then you are indeed a seer.'
+
+'This morning, when he did not come, as he promised he would, and
+always has done, someone gave me this. What am I to think?'
+
+Miss Broad handed Miss Bewicke the two typewritten lines, which that
+lady carefully regarded.
+
+'Someone? Who was someone?'
+
+'A little boy. I thought it was a message from Guy. By the time I
+found it wasn't, he was gone. I don't know who he was, nor from whom
+he came, if it wasn't from you.'
+
+It certainly did not come from me. Miss Broad, I begin to find you
+amusing. I also begin to understand what it is Guy Holland perceives
+in you to like. You are more of a woman than I am; that is, there is
+in you more of the natural savage, which, to a man of his temperament,
+goes to make a woman.'
+
+'I want none of your praises.'
+
+'I'm not going to give you any, or compliments either. I doubt if
+you're in a frame of mind to properly appreciate any sort of
+sleight-of-hand. Let me finish. I had an engagement for luncheon; as
+you have made me late for it, perhaps you will do me the honour of
+lunching with me here.'
+
+'No, thank you.'
+
+'Pardon me, you will.'
+
+'Excuse me, I won't.'
+
+'We shall see.'
+
+Miss Bewicke touched the bell button. Miss Broad eyed her with flaming
+cheeks.
+
+'It's no use your ordering anything to eat for me, because I sha'n't
+touch it. You treat me as if I were a child. I'm not a child.'
+
+'My dear Miss Broad, we are both of us women--both of us; and there
+are senses in which women and children are synonyms. Mr Holland was
+once in love with me--he was, I assure you. He is now in love with
+you, which fact creates between us a bond of sympathy.'
+
+'I don't see it.'
+
+'No? I do. You will. He appears to have got himself into, we will put
+it, a rather equivocal position. It is our bounden duty, as joint
+sympathisers, to get him out of it. We will discuss our bounden duty;
+but I never can discuss anything when I'm starving, which I am.'
+
+To the waiter who appeared Miss Bewicke gave orders for an immediate
+lunch for two. Miss Broad kept silence. The truth was, she was not
+finding Miss Bewicke altogether the sort of person she expected. That
+little lady went on,--
+
+'I'm free to confess, my dear Miss Broad; by the way, may I call you
+Letty?'
+
+'No; you may not.'
+
+'Thank you; you are so sweet. As I was about to remark, my
+dear--Letty'--the other winced, but was still--'I'm free to confess
+that I think it not improbable that something has happened to Mr
+Holland.'
+
+'You know that something has happened?'
+
+'I don't know--I surmise. I put two and two together, thus:--To begin
+with, I don't think that you were the only person who egged him on to
+felony.'
+
+Miss Broad again was speechless. She remembered Mr Holland's tale of
+his encounter with Miss Casata.
+
+'There was a preciseness about his proceedings which set me thinking
+at the time, and has kept me thinking ever since. I'm pretty shrewd,
+you know. Now, I happen to be aware that a certain person of my
+acquaintance has been on too good terms with Mr Horace Burton. You
+have heard of Mr Horace Burton? I thought so. Such a nice young man!
+Now, however, this certain person is on the worst terms with Mr Horace
+Burton. For sufficient reasons, I assure you. She has been evolving
+fantastic schemes of vengeance on the deceitful wretch; she's just a
+little cracked, you know. To ruin Mr Horace Burton by assisting Guy
+Holland to deprive him of his fortune would be just the kind of notion
+which would commend itself to her. I fancy that that's exactly what
+she did do. Didn't she, my dear?'
+
+Miss Broad was breathing a little hard. The other's keen intuition
+startled her.
+
+'It was I who told him to take what was his own.'
+
+'Yes, I know; but the first suggestion did not come from you. However,
+so long as we understand each other, that's the point. To proceed--Mr
+Horace Burton would be cautious that this certain person's sweetness
+had turned to gall, and also that she was wishful to pay him out in
+his own coin. He might even have a notion of the form that payment was
+to take, having learned it from the certain person's own lips. If so,
+you may be quite sure that he or his friends saw Guy Holland enter my
+premises, if nobody else did. They saw him come out. They were to the
+full as anxious to obtain possession of that ruby as ever he could be.
+So they took it from him.'
+
+'Took it from him--with violence?'
+
+'Do you think they could take it from him without violence--that he
+would hand it over practically upon request? That's not like Guy; not
+the Guy I knew. He'd fight for it tooth and nail himself against a
+regiment.'
+
+'Do you think then they hurt him?'
+
+'It looks as if they did something to him. He never went home. There
+must have been some reason why he didn't. There is at least a
+possibility that it was because he couldn't.'
+
+'Do you think they--killed him?'
+
+'Ah, now you ask too much. I should say certainly not. It would be
+unintentionally if they did. That would be too big a price even for Mr
+Horace Burton to pay. If they attacked him in fair fight, I should say
+that he killed someone before they did him; and that when they did it
+was because they had to. But the possibility is that they never let
+him have a chance; that they stole on him unawares, and had him at
+their mercy before he knew that danger threatened.'
+
+'Miss Bewicke, you are so clever--so much cleverer than I--'
+
+'My dear!'
+
+'Come up to town with me and help me look for him, and go with me to
+the police, and--'
+
+'Set all London by the ears? I know. We'll do it; but here comes
+lunch. You sit down to lunch with me, and we'll talk things over while
+we lunch. You see how far talking things over has already brought us;
+and after lunch we'll go to town, as you suggest, and find out what's
+happened to Guy Holland, and where he is, or we'll know the reason
+why. But if you won't lunch with me, then nothing remains but to wish
+you good day, and, so far as I'm concerned, there'll be an end of the
+matter. I'll have nothing to do with a person who won't eat my bread
+and salt.'
+
+So the ladies lunched together. Although Miss Broad declared that she
+could not swallow a morsel, Miss Bewicke induced her to dispose of
+several. Indeed, she handled her with so much skill that by the time
+the meal was through--it was not a long one--one would have thought
+that they really were on decent terms with one another, though Miss
+Broad was still a trifle scratchy. But then her nerves were out of
+order, and when a lady's nerves are out of order, she is apt,
+occasionally, to stray from those well-defined paths which etiquette
+and good breeding require her to tread; in short, she does not know
+what she is doing, or what anybody else is doing either, which Miss
+Bewicke quite understood, so that her guest's eccentricities,
+apparently, simply amused her.
+
+And the two young ladies went up together in the same compartment to
+London to look for Mr Holland, and to call down, if necessary,
+vengeance on his enemies and those who had despitefully used him.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII
+
+                       VISITORS FOR MISS CASATA
+
+
+Miss Casata had a razor in her hand--an open razor. She examined its
+edge.
+
+'It is very sharp. Oh, yes, how sharp! One cut; it will all be over.
+Will it be over with one cut--that is it--or shall I have to hack, and
+hack, and hack? That would not be agreeable.'
+
+She stood in front of a looking-glass, regarding her own reflection.
+
+'I am not bad looking; no, I am not. I have a certain attractiveness,
+which is my own. To use the razor would be to make a mess. I should be
+a horrible sight. Would he care? He would not see me. If he did, he
+would laugh, I know. He has what he calls a taste for the horrible. It
+would amuse him to behold me all covered with blood.'
+
+She turned her attention to some articles which were on a table.
+
+'Here is a revolver. The six barrels are all loaded. It would not need
+them all to blow out my brains--that is, if I have any to blow. Here
+is a bottle of hydrocyanic acid. What lies I had to tell to get it;
+what tricks I had to play! There is enough in this little bottle to
+kill the whole street. I have, therefore, the keys of death close to
+my hand--painless, instant death. Three roads to eternal sleep, and I
+stand so much in need of rest. Yet I hesitate to use them. It is very
+funny. Is it because I am going mad--I did not use to be infirm of
+purpose--I wonder?'
+
+She handled, one after another, the three objects--the razor, the
+revolver, the little bottle--as if endeavouring to make a selection.
+
+'I am too optimistic. There is my fault--I always hope. It is an
+error. I have always had in my life such evil fortune that, when
+happiness came, I should have known it would not endure--that the
+night would be blacker because the sun once shone; that for me,
+henceforward, it would be always night. I was a fool; so happy I
+forgot, so I pay for it. Well, I will take my fate into my own hands
+and make an ending when I choose. I should have liked to see the
+little one--my little one.' A softness came into the voice of which
+one might hardly have thought it capable. 'To have held it in my arms;
+to press it to my breast; to touch its lips with mine. I should,
+indeed, have liked to be a mother. Yet better not; it might have been
+like its father. That would have been the worst of all. Which is it to
+be--steel? lead? a little drink? Why is it I cannot decide? What's
+that?'
+
+She had Miss Bewicke's dainty drawing-room to herself. An incongruous
+object she seemed in it, she and her gruesome playthings. A sound
+appeared to have caught her ear. She put her right hand behind her
+back; in it, the three assistants of death. Moving to a door which was
+on the opposite side of the room, turning the handle softly, she
+passed half-way through it, then stood and listened.
+
+'Quite still, yet. The noise did not come from there. There was a
+noise. Ah!'
+
+The interjection was in response to a rat-tat-tat on the knocker. The
+room was illuminated by a dozen electric lights. Disconnecting one
+after the other, she allowed but a single one to remain alight.
+Comparatively, the apartment was in darkness.
+
+'That's not Ellen's knock, nor Jane's; she is not already back again.
+Besides, she also does not knock like that. Who is it?'
+
+The knocking came again--slightly, more insistently than before.
+
+'If it is some bothering visitors, they will have a short answer, I
+promise them. When I do not open, why do they not take a hint and go?
+I am not to be disturbed when I am making my arrangements to remain
+undisturbed for ever.'
+
+The knocking was repeated for a third time.
+
+'So, they persist! Well, I will show them. They shall see.'
+
+Cramming her trio of treasures into the pocket of her dress, where one
+would have supposed them to be in uncomfortable, not to say dangerous,
+juxtaposition, she strode to the door, intent on scarifying the
+presumptuous caller. When, however, she perceived who stood without,
+surprise for the moment made her irresolute.
+
+The visitor was Mr Horace Burton, at whom Miss Casata stared, as if he
+were the very last person she had expected to see--which, probably, as
+a matter of fact, he was. Mr Burton, on the other hand, bestowed on
+her his blandest smile. He sauntered past her as if he had not the
+slightest doubt in the world that he would be regarded as a welcome
+guest.
+
+'Hollo, Lou! come to pay you a visit.'
+
+His tone was light and airy, in striking contrast to her demeanour,
+which was about as tragic as it could be.
+
+'Go! Do you hear me, go, before you are sorry, and I am sorry, too!'
+
+Her manner seemed to leave him quite unmoved.
+
+'Now, my dear girl, don't look at me like that; it isn't nice of you.
+I'm here as a friend--a friend, you understand--and something more
+than a friend.'
+
+'You are no friend of mine; no, you never can be. I tell you again to
+go at once, or you will be sorry. I have warned you.'
+
+'That's all right; you'll change your tone when you hear what I have
+to say. I've come here to bring sunshine into your life, to ask for
+your forgiveness, to undo the past. Be sensible; there's a good girl.'
+
+'Sensible? Oh, yes, I will be sensible. There's someone else here.'
+
+'Yes, that's Cox; he's a friend of mine. He's come here to see
+fair-play and witness my repentance. Come in, Cox.' Mr Thomas Cox
+entered, looking, if the thing were possible, less like a Thomas Cox
+than ever. 'Cox, let me present you to Miss Casata, the only woman I
+ever loved. There have been times when I have been forced to dissemble
+my love. Hang it, Cox! you know how I've been pressed. When a man's in
+such a hole as I've been in, he crushes down the love which he feels
+for a woman; he has to, if there's any manhood in him. He doesn't want
+to drag her down into the ditch in which he lies. But, Cox, you know
+how I have loved her all the time.'
+
+Mr Burton turned away his head--whether to hide a tear or a smile was
+uncertain. He spoke with a degree of volubility which, under the
+circumstances, was remarkable. As Miss Casata appeared to think, her
+tone remained inflexible.
+
+'There still is someone else.'
+
+'Ah, that's the Flyman; he's nothing and nobody; he doesn't count. Let
+him have a chair, and he can wait in the hall, Lou, till you and I
+come to an understanding.'
+
+Mr Burton's suggestion was carried out. A chair was taken into the
+little hall, on which the Flyman placed himself. How long he remained
+on it, when their backs were turned, was another matter. The outer
+door was closed, as also, Miss Casata having entered, was the door
+into the drawing-room. But that was of no consequence; the Flyman's
+ears were keen.
+
+There was a curious glitter in the lady's eyes when she confronted her
+quondam lover. Now and then she touched her lips with the tip of her
+tongue, as if they were dry. Her hands continually opened and shut,
+apparently of their own volition. Occasionally one of them found its
+way into her pocket, feeling if her treasures still were there. She
+spoke as if her throat were sore.
+
+'Well, what is it that you want? what new lie have you to tell?'
+
+'I want to marry you; and, Lou, that's no lie.'
+
+She was silent. One could see her bosom moving up and down. Then,
+becoming conscious of the two men's scrutiny, she drew herself up
+straighter, as if resolute to keep herself in hand.
+
+'You insolent!'
+
+'Insolent! Now, Lou, that's not nice of you. A man's not insolent who
+wants to marry the woman whom he loves, and who loves him.'
+
+'I love you? I?' She tapped her chest with her forefinger. 'I love you
+so much that I would like to tear you to pieces! That is the sort of
+love I have for you. You--thing!'
+
+'Lou, you're letting your temper get the better of you. I know I
+treated you badly.'
+
+'Badly!'
+
+She laughed--a mirthless little laugh.
+
+'I know you've a right to feel annoyed with me--'
+
+'Annoyed with you? Oh, no, not that!'
+
+'But I was forced to do what I did; I couldn't help myself.'
+
+'No doubt!'
+
+'But now it's different altogether. I see things in a new light. I
+know what a mistake I've made. I've found out that I love you even
+more than I thought I did, and I've come to ask you to give me another
+chance--to forgive me. You're a woman, Lou, the best of women, and
+you've a forgiving heart; I know you have. Let me be your husband.
+I'll treat you better in the future; really, now!'
+
+'What does all this mean?'
+
+'It means what I say. Doesn't your own heart tell you so?'
+
+'Oh, yes, it tells me. It tells me all sorts of things. It is a fool
+and a liar. It is of you I ask what does it all mean? It is you I want
+to tell me. Never mind what my heart says; we will leave my heart
+alone. I think we'd better.'
+
+'Well, look here, I'll be candid. You're clear-sighted, whatever else
+you are, and level-headed; a cleverer woman I never met. I've told you
+so scores of times. With a woman of your type, candour's the best
+policy, as you say. So here's the matter in a nutshell. I'm in a hole;
+you're in a hole. You help me out of the hole I'm in; I'll help you
+out of the hole you're in. That's what I've come to say to you
+to-night. You appreciate frankness; there you have it.'
+
+'What is the hole you are in?'
+
+'My dear Lou, you know quite well. I've never kept it secret from you;
+I've always made you my confidant. What I want is my uncle's ruby. You
+tell me where it is, and help me to lay my hand upon it, and I'll
+marry you in the morning. And there's the proof that I mean what I
+say.'
+
+He handed her an official-looking document, which purported to be an
+announcement of the fact that notice had been given to a certain
+registrar requiring him to perform the ceremony of marriage, by
+special licence, between Horace Burton and Louise Casata. The lady,
+however, scarcely glanced at it. She kept her eyes fixed on the
+gentleman.
+
+'Your uncle's ruby!'
+
+'That's it. As you know, if I can get it in my possession, it means
+fortune; if I can't, it may mean misfortune of a bad type. As I'm not
+taking any chances, if you'll help me to lay my hand on it, I'll marry
+you in the morning.'
+
+'What a liar you are!'
+
+'My dear Lou, all men are liars; somebody else said it before you. But
+where's the lie in this particular case? You've the proof in your hand
+that I mean business. Cox shall come with us and see it done. Won't
+you, Cox?'
+
+Mr Thomas Cox bowed.
+
+'Pleased to do anything to oblige a lady.'
+
+'There you are! If you like, you needn't lose sight of me until we're
+married.'
+
+'You say you want your uncle's ruby?'
+
+'Of course, you know I do.'
+
+'I know that you have it already.'
+
+'I wish I knew as much. If I had it, I shouldn't be here to-night.
+There's another piece of candour.'
+
+'I saw him take it.'
+
+'Him? Who?'
+
+'The man outside whom you call the Flyman. I saw him from a window
+take it last night from Mr Holland.'
+
+Mr Burton turned to Mr Cox.
+
+'There you are! There's one witness. How many more might there have
+been? The Flyman's a fool to transact a delicate piece of business of
+that description in a public thoroughfare!' He returned to Miss
+Casata. 'My dear Lou, you saw him try to take it, unfortunately
+without success.'
+
+'He took everything Mr Holland had.'
+
+'You appear to be well-informed upon the subject, though I don't know
+from what quarter your information comes. Still, what you say is
+pretty accurate. He did take all he could. He even took a ruby. Here
+it is for you to look at. Unluckily, it's not my uncle's. Hence these
+tears.'
+
+He handed her the ruby signet ring which the Flyman, when he turned Mr
+Holland face downwards on the pavement, found that gentleman had been
+lying on.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV
+
+                             WHO KNOCKS?
+
+
+Miss Casata examined the ring with every show of interest.
+
+'This is the ruby he took from Mr Holland.'
+
+'It is.'
+
+'It is the only one which Mr Holland had.'
+
+'So the Flyman said. He ought to know. I believe, on this occasion,
+he's no liar.'
+
+'And it's not your uncle's?'
+
+'It is not.'
+
+'You are sure?'
+
+'Dead.'
+
+'Then, now I understand.'
+
+'I wish I did share your understanding.'
+
+'I understand why she laughed when he had gone, and why she said,
+"Poor Guy, how disappointed he will be!"'
+
+'What is it you're talking about? Would you condescend to explain?'
+
+'Yet--I do not understand. It was the box. Wait; in a second I will be
+back.'
+
+She was back in less than a minute, bearing in her hand a small
+leather-covered box. On the lid was gummed a narrow strip of paper, on
+which was written, in delicate characters, 'The Burton Ruby.' Mr
+Burton received it with a cry of recognition.
+
+'It's it; but the writing's strange.'
+
+'It is her writing.'
+
+'It's uncle's box--the one in which he always kept the blessed thing.
+There's his crest; there's where I dropped it in the ink.' He raised
+the lid. 'It's empty!'
+
+'Last night Mr Holland took from it the ring which was inside. I
+always imagined that in it she kept your uncle's ruby, which was what
+I said to Mr Holland, as I told you I would do.'
+
+'You're a nice girl, Lou!'
+
+'And you're a nice man! Are you not a nice man?'
+
+Mr Cox interposed.
+
+'Now, don't let's have any quarrelling. Stick to business. Time's
+precious. Go on with your story.'
+
+The lady turned and rent him.
+
+'I will not go on with my story for you. What business of yours is my
+story, you dirty Jew?'
+
+Mr Burton smiled benignly.
+
+'Personalities! personalities! Don't call the man a Jew, my dear. Cox
+is no Jew; he's an anti-Semite. Continue your story for me, my love.'
+
+Miss Casata complied with his request, although not in the most
+gracious manner.
+
+'Do not call me your love, or you will be sorry. As Mr Holland was
+taking the ring out of the box, she came in--'
+
+'And caught him at it? It must have been exciting. Wicked Guy!'
+
+'He wished to give it to her back again, but she said, "Go, and take
+it with you." He took it, and went. Then, when he had gone, she began
+to laugh. She kept on laughing--it was true laughter, not false--as if
+it was the best joke in the world, and she said, "Poor Guy, how
+disappointed he will be!"'
+
+'You notice things.'
+
+'I am not a fool.'
+
+'Is it possible that anyone ever mistook you for one?'
+
+Mr Cox dug him with his elbow in the ribs, by way of a hint to him to
+hold his tongue. Miss Casata went contemptuously on,--
+
+'I perceive now that she laughed because she knew that he had not
+taken with him what he supposed; but what I do not understand is,
+where, then, is the ring? I know she kept it in this box.'
+
+She examined minutely the one she held. Mr Cox put a question to Mr
+Burton.
+
+'For the last time, Burton, I suppose you're quite sure that it's not
+your uncle's ring? Nice we should look if it was afterwards discovered
+that you had made a mistake.'
+
+'Don't be a silly ass! How many more times do you want to hear me
+swear? I say, Cox, have you two legs, or four, and which end of you
+are they? I might just as reasonably put such questions to you. I tell
+you, I know.'
+
+Miss Casata was still continuing her scrutiny.
+
+'It is not the ring; you are right. It is not the ring which she used
+to keep in the box. The stone in that, I think, was larger. It had a
+crest on it, I remember. And inside there was a name engraved, "George
+Burton." She showed it me one day, and she said, "I shall have to have
+this stone remounted. I cannot wear a man's name upon my finger,
+especially that man's name." I remember very well. Oh, no, this is not
+the ring at all.'
+
+Mr Burton turned in triumph to Mr Cox. 'You hear? Now, who's right?'
+
+'You have seen the ring which you describe?'
+
+'It is certain; more than once. When was the last time? Not many days
+ago. It was in this box. She took it out of this box, she put it back
+into the box, and the box she put into the little bottom drawer. I
+remember it very well. When I heard of Mr Burton's will, I thought of
+it at once.'
+
+'Then where is it now?'
+
+'She must have taken it out of the box and put it somewhere else.'
+
+'But where? Think!'
+
+'How do I know? how can I think? She must have put it with some of her
+other jewels. They are everywhere--all over the place.'
+
+Mr Cox and Mr Burton exchanged glances. The young gentleman took up
+the running.
+
+'In that case, we'll look for it all over the place.'
+
+'What do you mean?'
+
+'My dear Lou, I'm going to have that ruby, and before I leave these
+premises. So, now, you've got it.'
+
+'You will not touch her things?'
+
+'I've no desire to do anything so indelicate. You tell us where it is,
+or give us a hint.'
+
+'I have not the slightest notion.'
+
+'Then we'll investigate for ourselves.'
+
+'You shall not touch her things!'
+
+'Lou, you gave Guy Holland the tip. You helped him to commit a
+burglary. Why should you be squeamish now?'
+
+'That was different.'
+
+'Of course it was. He's not attached to you like I am; he doesn't
+worship the ground you stand upon. It isn't as though you were smitten
+with Miss Bewicke, because you're not; you've told me so a hundred
+times. She's going to play some pretty trick on her own account;
+that's the meaning of her taking out the ruby, which she knew you knew
+was in that box. And it's a thousand to nothing that she means to play
+it at my expense. If I can help it, I don't mean to let her have the
+chance. Your fortune's bound with mine; we sink or swim together. If I
+don't get that ruby, and to-night, it'll probably mean that I go
+under, and, if I go, you'll go too. My dear girl, you know you will.
+Come, be sensible; be something like your dear own self. Do only half
+for me what you did for Guy. Let me just have a look round for that
+wretched ruby. By your own account, it must be somewhere close at
+hand. I'm sure to get it, and, when I do get it, I'll not forget the
+part you played. It'll not be my fault if I don't still make you the
+best husband a woman ever had.'
+
+'I was not here when Mr Holland came. I did not see what he did. I
+knew nothing.'
+
+'You need not see what we do. We have a little something somewhere
+which will make you as unconscious of anything that may take place as
+you can possibly desire. Then, if there is a bother, you will be able
+to assume, with perfect propriety, the _rôle_ of injured victim. But I
+don't see that there need be trouble, if you keep still. I've as much
+right to that ruby as anybody else. I'm going to assert that right,
+that's all. Now, be a good, kind girl. Go into another room and have a
+nice little read. We're going to have a ruby hunt. Flyman!'
+
+The Flyman appeared at the open door. At sight of him, Miss Casata
+broke into a storm of exclamations.
+
+'Not him! He shall not come in here. He killed Mr Holland! I saw him!
+Mr Holland's blood is on his hands! I will not have that he come in
+here!'
+
+'My dearest girl, but that's absurd. He's the only one of the three
+who understands locks. You don't want us to irretrievably ruin Miss
+Bewicke's property owing to our sheer want of skill? And for a nose
+for such a trifle as that ruby we are hunting for he has not his
+equal. Now, you go and have a nice little read.'
+
+He moved forward with the possible intention of taking her by the arm
+and leading her from the room. If such was his design, it failed. As
+he advanced, she slipped past him. Rushing to the door which led into
+Miss Bewicke's bedroom, she placed herself in front of it. She took
+out one of the three treasures which were in her pocket--the revolver.
+Before the three men had even dreamed that she might be in possession
+of such a weapon, it was pointed at their heads. Her tone when she
+spoke was as significant as her attitude.
+
+'If one of you tries to come through this door, I will shoot him dead.
+Do not think this revolver is not loaded. I will show you.'
+
+She fired, the bullet penetrating the opposite wall. Mr Thomas Cox
+ducked as it passed. His companions instinctively shrank back. Her
+lips parted in a grim smile. Apparently this was her idea of humour.
+
+'You see I am not so helpless as you perhaps supposed. I am not
+nervous, not at all. I am used to handle a revolver. I have won prizes
+for pistol shooting, oh, several times. There are five more barrels
+which are loaded. If I aim at you, I promise that I will not miss. You
+shall see.'
+
+The bearing of the trio, in its way, was comical, they were evidently
+so completely taken by surprise. Mr Thomas Cox, in particular, looked
+as if this were an expedition in which, under the circumstances, he
+wished he had not taken part. He said as much.
+
+'Look here, Burton, this is more than I bargained for. Before we came
+I told you that I was not going to be mixed up with anything
+equivocal. I have my character to consider. You said your lady friend
+would listen to reason; if your lady friend won't listen to reason,
+then I'm sorry, but I'm off.'
+
+'Then you'll lose your money.'
+
+'In that case you'll have to smart for it.'
+
+'That won't give you your money. It's a nice little lot.'
+
+'I know it's a nice little lot, and I can't afford to lose it; you
+know I can't afford to lose it. But there's something I can afford to
+lose still less, and that--that's my character.'
+
+'Your character! Why, if you only could manage to get rid of your
+character--I don't believe you yourself realise what an awful one it
+is--it'd be the best stroke of business you've done for many a day, my
+dear Cox!'
+
+Mr Burton advanced, as if to tap his friend, in an affable manner, on
+the shoulder. This brought him within a few feet of where Miss Casata
+was standing. Laying his left hand on Mr Cox's shoulder, with his
+right he snatched away that gentleman's walking-stick, swung round and
+struck Miss Casata's outstretched wrist with such violence that the
+revolver was driven from her grasp and sent flying across the room.
+She gave a cry of pain. Her arm fell limp at her side. The blow had
+been delivered with so much force that it was quite possible her wrist
+was broken.
+
+'You devil!'
+
+'You wild cat!' returned the gentleman. 'Now, Flyman, on to her!'
+
+The Flyman obeyed. The two gentlemen attacked the lady. Although she
+fought gamely, especially considering her injured wrist, she was no
+match for the pair. They got her down upon the floor, still struggling
+for all that she was worth.
+
+'Now, Flyman, where's that stuff of yours?'
+
+'I'm getting it. She's a oner. She's bit me to the bone.'
+
+With difficulty--he only had one hand disengaged--he evolved a tin
+canister from his jacket pocket.
+
+'Bite her to the bone! Let her have the lot!'
+
+From the canister the Flyman managed to take a cloth--a cloth which
+was soaked with some peculiar-smelling fluid. This he jammed against
+the lady's face, even cramming it between her lips. She writhed and
+twisted, then lay still.
+
+As the Flyman got up, he examined the hand which she had marked with
+her teeth.
+
+'She takes a bit of doing. I shouldn't like to have to tackle her
+single-handed.'
+
+Mr Burton smiled. His clothes were a little rumpled. As he rose he
+arranged his tie.
+
+'Nice wife she'd make! What do you think?'
+
+Mr Cox had occupied his time in picking up the revolver of which the
+lady had been relieved. He seemed genuinely concerned.
+
+'You know, Burton, I tell you again I didn't come here for this sort
+of thing. I wouldn't have had this happen not--not for a good deal. I
+shouldn't be surprised if we get into trouble for this.'
+
+'My dear Cox, we should have got into trouble anyhow. We may as well
+be hung for a sheep as a lamb. I'm going for the gloves.'
+
+'Hung! Don't talk about hanging. You make a cold shiver go down my
+back. You haven't--killed her?'
+
+'Killed her? You innocent! She's the sort who take a deal of killing.
+My good chap, when she comes to, she'll curse a little and go on
+generally; but she'll forgive me in the end. I know her; she's a
+dear!'
+
+While the three men stood looking down at the unconscious woman, there
+came a knocking at the outer door.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XV
+
+                        AN HONOURABLE RETREAT
+
+
+It was not what they expected. Their faces showed it; they were so
+unmistakably startled. They looked at each other, then at the
+unconscious woman, then back again at one another. Mr Burton bit his
+lip.
+
+'Who the deuce is that?'
+
+'Servants, perhaps.'
+
+The suggestion was the Flyman's.
+
+'Then confound the servants! Why can't they take a little extra time
+to-night? They know their mistress is away.'
+
+The knocking came again--a regular rat-tat-tat.
+
+'That's no servants. They wouldn't make that row.'
+
+'You can never tell. Nowadays they make what row they please; they
+fancy themselves. Brutes!'
+
+'Visitors, perhaps.'
+
+'Confound them, whoever it is!'
+
+They spoke in whispers, an appreciable pause between each man's
+speaking, as if each in turn waited for something to happen. Mr Burton
+was outwardly the most self-possessed, being the kind of man who would
+probably smile as he mounted the gallows. The Flyman had his eyes
+nearly shut, his fists clenched, his shoulders a little hunched, as if
+gathering himself together to resist a coming attack. Mr Thomas Cox
+was visibly tremulous; his great head twitched upon his shoulders; he
+was apparently in danger of physical collapse. It was curious to
+observe the contrasting attitudes of the three men as they stood about
+the recumbent woman.
+
+The knocking was repeated, still more loudly, as if the knocker waxed
+impatient.
+
+'We shall have to let 'em in. Anyhow, we shall have to see who's
+there. They'll knock the door down.'
+
+This was the Flyman. Mr Cox suggested an alternative.
+
+'Can't we--can't we get away? Isn't there another way out?'
+
+Mr Burton enlightened him.
+
+'My dear Cox, there's only one way into a flat, and there's only one
+way out, unless you try the window, which means a drop of perhaps a
+hundred feet. I'm not dropping. The Flyman's right; we shall have to
+see who's there. There needn't be trouble, unless you give yourself
+away. It depends who it is. I'll lay this dear little girl of mine
+upon her bed; she'll be more comfortable there, and not so
+conspicuous. I know which is her room. Then we'll see who's come to
+call on you.'
+
+Displaying a degree of strength with which one would hardly have
+credited his slight figure, lifting Miss Casata off the floor, he bore
+her from the room. During his absence there came the knocking for the
+fourth time, this time furiously. When he returned, a marked change
+had taken place in his appearance. There were signs of strange
+disorder on his countenance, as if during his brief withdrawal he had
+been unstrung by some overwhelming shock. The Flyman at once observed
+his altered looks.
+
+'What's happened? What's the matter?'
+
+'Curse you, Flyman!'
+
+'What have I done now?'
+
+'I say, curse you!'
+
+'Is she--dead?'
+
+'No, she's not. I'm going to open the door. If it's the servants, I'll
+send them away, pretending to give them a message from her; if it's
+callers, I'll tell them a lie; if it's anybody who wants to make
+himself unpleasant, you two look out. I'm not going to be bluffed out
+of this before I've got that ruby.'
+
+'Burton, be careful what you do, for all our sakes.'
+
+This was Mr Cox. The retort was hardly courteous.
+
+'You be hanged!'
+
+Mr Burton reached the front door as the knocking was recommencing.
+From where they were they could not see what he did, but they could
+hear. They heard him open; a feminine voice inquire, in tones of
+indignation,--
+
+'What's the meaning of this? Why am I kept waiting?'
+
+Then the front door slammed, the drawing-room door was thrown
+violently open, and two young ladies came through it, one after the
+other, with such extremely indecorous rapidity as to suggest that they
+could scarcely be entirely responsible for their own proceedings, as,
+indeed, they were not. Mr Horace Burton had propelled them forward
+with his own right arm before they themselves had the least idea what
+was about to happen. And, following right upon their heels, he closed
+the drawing-room door, turned the key and stood with his back against
+it, surveying them with his habitual, benignant smile.
+
+It was what they call upon the stage a tableau, The smiling gentleman,
+the two bewildered ladies, the two other almost equally bewildered
+men, for it was an open question which were the more surprised by the
+singularity of Mr Burton's behaviour--Miss Bewicke and Miss Broad or
+Mr Thomas Cox and the Flyman.
+
+The peculiar nature of her reception seemed to have driven Miss
+Broad's wits completely from her. She gazed around like a woman
+startled out of sleep, who has no notion of what has roused her. Miss
+Bewicke had apparently retained some fragments of hers. She looked at
+Mr Burton, then at Mr Cox and the Flyman, then back at the gentleman
+who stood before the door. She eyed him up and down with a mixture, as
+it seemed, of amusement, anger and contempt. Could a voice have stung,
+hers would have stung him then. But this gentleman was pachydermatous.
+
+'So it's you?'
+
+'I guess it is.'
+
+'How dare you come here?'
+
+'That's the problem.'
+
+'It's one which will soon be solved.'
+
+She moved across the room. He checked her.
+
+'It's no good your ringing the bell. There's no one to answer.'
+
+As she turned to face him, Miss Broad spoke, with an apparent partial
+return to consciousness.
+
+'Who is this person?'
+
+'This person is Horace Burton, of whom you may have heard. I cannot
+tell you who the other persons are. They look as if they were friends
+of his.'
+
+'So this is Horace Burton?'
+
+Miss Broad regarded the gentleman in question as if he were some
+unclean thing, which, possibly, she considered him to be. He, on the
+other hand, continued genial as ever.
+
+'And you're Miss Broad--Letty, I believe? I'm pleased to meet you,
+cousin that is to be.'
+
+'Cousin--your cousin? I shall never be a cousin of yours.'
+
+'No? That's hard on Guy. He's counting on the money.'
+
+'You despicable creature!' She turned away, presenting him with a good
+view of her back, and put a question to Miss Bewicke. 'What is he
+doing here? Surely you don't allow him in your rooms?'
+
+Mr Burton took upon himself to answer for the lady.
+
+'I'll tell you what I'm doing here; she can't. I'm now for the first
+time going to tell her also. It'll be giving her a little piece of
+information which I know she'll value. Miss Bewicke, I've come here in
+search of a quarter of million of money.'
+
+'Is that so? You really are too modest! It was surely scarcely worth
+your while to come for such a trifle! I need hardly say that you will
+find several little sums of that amount lying loose about the
+premises!'
+
+'Indeed? Well, I want one; that's all.'
+
+'Mr Burton, will you be so good as to leave my rooms?'
+
+'I'll leave them on the wings of the wind, whatever that may be, when
+I have my uncle's ruby.'
+
+'When you have what?'
+
+'My uncle's ruby. My dear cousin Guy committed burglary here last
+night in quest of it, so I'm sure you won't mind my paying you a
+little call this evening as a sort of sequel.'
+
+'I suppose Louise Casata told you about Mr Holland?'
+
+'There's no charge for supposing.'
+
+'Probably the same person also informed you that he went away with
+what he sought?'
+
+'Did he, Miss Bewicke?'
+
+'You had better refer to your informant.'
+
+'I'm referring to you. I'm asking you if Guy Holland left these rooms
+last night in possession of my uncle's ruby?'
+
+'Ask Miss Casata; ask your cousin even, but don't ask me.'
+
+'I am asking you. You've been playing some confounded trick.'
+
+'Mr Burton!'
+
+'I don't wish to hurt your feelings, Miss Bewicke, so I'll say you've
+been amusing yourself with some dainty, delicate device, and I
+shouldn't be surprised to learn that you have that ruby on your person
+at this moment.'
+
+Miss Bewicke, walking to the bell, pressed her finger against the
+button, so that it kept up a continuous ringing. Mr Burton watched her
+with a smile.
+
+'You see, there's no one there. You might have taken my word.'
+
+'Where is Miss Casata?'
+
+'Where is she? That's the question. Where's everyone?'
+
+'If I am unable to attract the attention of my own servants, thanks to
+you, my friends in the next flat will hear the unceasing tinkling of
+the bell, and guess that there is something wrong.'
+
+'I should be sorry, Miss Bewicke, to have to seem rude to a lady--'
+
+'On the contrary, I should imagine that few things would give you
+greater pleasure; you are that kind of person.'
+
+'At the same time, I must request you to leave that bell alone.'
+
+He went closer to her. His moving away from it left the door
+unguarded. Over her shoulder she shot a glance at Miss Broad. That
+young lady, catching it, perceived the little ruse she had been
+playing. Hurrying to the door, she began to turn the key, and had
+already unlocked it when Mr Burton came rushing back to the post which
+he had been beguiled into deserting.
+
+'You darling!' he cried.
+
+Seizing Miss Broad by the waist he dragged her from the door. As he
+whirled her round, she struck him with her clenched fist on his right
+ear, the blow being delivered with such good judgment, force and
+fortune that it carried the young gentleman clean off his feet and
+right over on to his back.
+
+'Bravo!' exclaimed Miss Bewicke. 'Now, Letty, open the door!'
+
+But Miss Bewicke was a little hasty in supposing that the road was
+free. As Mr Burton fell, he prevented Miss Broad from moving by
+clutching at her skirts. She struggled to release herself in vain; he
+gripped too tight. And the Flyman, hastening to occupy the fallen
+hero's place, confronted Miss Bewicke as she advanced.
+
+'It's no good,' he observed. 'There's no road this way.'
+
+She was not to be baffled without an effort.
+
+'If you'll let me pass, I'll give you--'
+
+'You won't give me anything, because you won't pass. Now, don't you be
+silly, or you'll be sorry. You won't bowl me over with a clip on the
+ear from your little fist.'
+
+This was said because, encouraged, perhaps, by Miss Broad's success,
+Miss Bewicke showed signs of actual violence. The apparent
+recognition, however, of some peculiar quality on the face of the man
+in front of her caused her to relinquish her purpose, if it was ever
+formed. Instead, turning to Miss Broad, she took her by the hand.
+
+'Come, quick!' she cried.
+
+Mr Burton, reassured by the Flyman's arrival, loosed the lady's skirt
+as he ascended to his feet. The quick-witted proprietress of the
+rooms, taking instant advantage of Miss Broad's freedom, rushed her
+towards the door through which, not long since, he had carried Miss
+Casata. Divining their purpose, he tore after them as soon as he had
+regained his perpendicular.
+
+'Stop them, you fools! Move yourself, Cox!'
+
+But Mr Cox did not move himself. He remained motionless where he was
+standing, and Mr Burton, in spite of his impetuosity, was too late.
+They were not only through before he reached the door, but had banged
+it in his face, and turned the key on the other side. He shook the
+handle in vain.
+
+'Open, you cats!'
+
+They were not likely to comply with his civil invitation. He addressed
+himself to Mr Cox, on his face, all at once, a very peculiar look of
+pallor.
+
+'I shouldn't be surprised if you swing for this.'
+
+'Swing? For letting them through that door? Who do you think you're
+talking to?'
+
+'I'm talking to you, my friend. What's the betting that your letting
+them through that door doesn't turn out a hanging matter for you? I'll
+take short odds.' He turned to the Flyman. 'Let me through there.
+There's another way into where they are; I'll see if I can get at
+them. You stay here, in case they try to double. Cox is no good. I'll
+be even with him for this.'
+
+Mr Burton crossed to a door, which was on the other side of the little
+hall. Unlocked, it admitted him to the kitchen. From the kitchen he
+passed to another room, apparently where the servants slept. On the
+opposite side of this was still another door. He eyed it.
+
+'If I remember rightly, that leads into her room.'
+
+The door was locked; the key was in the lock upon the other side. He
+stooped to see; it was in a position which prevented anything being
+visible. He rattled the handle; rapped with his knuckles at the panel,
+without result. All was silent.
+
+'It is her room. I wonder what they're up to? They're very still. They
+can't--'
+
+He stopped, probably because the stillness of which he spoke was
+broken by a woman's cry--a mingling of surprise, anguish, fear. He
+retraced his steps towards the kitchen, whispering to himself two
+words,--
+
+'They have!'
+
+Taking the key from one side of the lock, replacing it in the other,
+he locked the door of the servants' room behind him. The key itself he
+pocketed.
+
+'Except through the drawing-room, there's only this way out, so we've
+trapped you anyhow.'
+
+As if to make assurance doubly sure, he locked the door of the kitchen
+also. Again he pocketed the key.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVI
+
+         THE FINDING OF THE RUBY AND THE LOCKING OF THE DOOR
+
+
+When Mr Burton returned to the drawing-room, he found that Mr Thomas
+Cox had been having a few words with the Flyman. That worthy jerked
+his thumb in the other's direction.
+
+'Wants to sling his hook. Says he's had about enough of it.'
+
+'Oh, he has, has he? Now, Cox, listen to me. It's through you we're
+here--'
+
+Interrupting, Mr Cox raised his hat and stick in a hasty disclaimer.
+
+'Was there ever anything like that? It was your suggestion entirely.
+You said you could twist your lady friend round your finger--'
+
+'Let's go a little further back, my Cox. You've told me--how many
+times?--that if I lose my uncle's money you'll send me to gaol. Not
+being anxious to go to gaol, I'm doing my best to get my uncle's
+money. So if it's not through you I'm here, I should like to know
+through whom it is.'
+
+'That's different; you're entering on other matters altogether. You've
+committed--you know what you've committed; but it doesn't follow,
+because you've brought yourself within the reach of the criminal law,
+that I want to bring myself too.'
+
+'You hand over those pieces of paper which you're always flicking in
+my face, and you're at liberty to go through that door, and down the
+stairs, and neither the Flyman nor I will ever breathe a word about
+your having been connected with the evening's entertainment.'
+
+'Do you take me for a fool? You've robbed me on your own account
+already, and now you want to jockey me into robbing myself. Don't talk
+to me like that!'
+
+'No, I won't talk to you like that; I'll talk to you like this. What
+there'll be to pay for this evening's proceedings I don't know; but
+you'll pay your share, whatever it is. This is a game of share and
+share alike, and of in for a penny in for a pound. The Flyman and I
+are going to see this through. I'm going to have the ruby before I
+leave, I tell you that; and you're going to be in with us right
+along.'
+
+'Burton, you're a villain!'
+
+'Cox, you're a scoundrel! Any use our saying pretty things to each
+other, you renegade Jew?'
+
+Mr Cox was wiping his forehead with his pocket-handkerchief, as if he
+felt the heat.
+
+'I will not be spoken to like that, as if I were--as if I were a man
+of your own type. Where--where have those women gone?'
+
+'The room on the other side that door is the dining-room; beyond is
+Casata's room. That's where they've gone.'
+
+'Then--then they've found her?'
+
+'Oh, yes, they've found her; not a doubt of it. They've found a good
+many other things as well.'
+
+His tone evidently struck Mr Cox as being disagreeably significant.
+
+'For goodness' sake, Burton, let's go. You are so rash, don't let's
+make bad worse. Let's go while we have a chance, and before anything
+very serious has happened.'
+
+'Something serious has happened.'
+
+'What do you mean?'
+
+'What I say.'
+
+'You don't mean--'
+
+'Oh, cut it! Flyman, Cox is too fond of cackle. We're losing valuable
+time, my child. You stay where you are, and keep an eye on things,
+while Cox and I find my uncle's ruby.'
+
+The Flyman proposed an amendment.
+
+'Excuse me, Mr Burton, but, if you don't mind, we'll have it the other
+way about. You stay here, and Mr Cox and I will find the ruby.'
+
+Mr Burton laughed.
+
+'Flyman, Doubt was your sire, out of Suspicion. Still think I want to
+do you?'
+
+'Sure.' The Flyman drew his finger across his lips. 'Mr Burton, you're
+cleverer than most, and a lot cleverer than me. If you once got that
+there stone between your fingers, I might whistle for my thousand, and
+keep on whistling. Besides, I am handier than you at looking for a
+thing like that.'
+
+'Then show your handiness; only look alive about it. We can't expect
+to continue in the enjoyment of these charming rooms for ever.'
+
+'Where shall I start looking?'
+
+'There you are, displaying your handiness from the very beginning. How
+am I to know? I'm not informed as to where she keeps her gewgaws. I
+believe that the pretty lady's sleeping-chamber is on the other side
+of that door; look, there.' The Flyman looked in the direction
+referred to. 'Hold hard; take Cox with you.'
+
+The Flyman gripped Mr Thomas Cox by the arm.
+
+'You come with me.'
+
+Mr Cox objected.
+
+'None of your handling.'
+
+'Who wants to handle you? You come with me, that's all.'
+
+'Yes, Cox, that's all. You go and assist our friend in prising open
+the pretty lady's jewel-boxes and dressing-cases, and so on. You know
+quite well that it isn't the first time you've been at the game, dear
+boy.'
+
+'I'll have no finger in anything of the kind; and as for your
+imputations, I'll make you regret them, Mr Burton.'
+
+'You will, will you? Take care, Cox; I'm in a nasty mood. If you won't
+take a hand in this game, we'll play it in spite of you. We'll count
+you out. Not a farthing shall you have of my money, and I defy you to
+put the law into execution against me. You know you daren't--now. The
+moment you move, I'll give the police the office to keep an eye on
+Thomas Cox. You've more to lose than we have.'
+
+'You--you brutes! Don't try to bully me.'
+
+'Bully? I don't bully, Cox. Here, I'll open that door, and you shall
+go through it at once, if you please. Only I'll go with you, and at
+the foot of the stairs I'll denounce you for murder. If the game is
+lost, as it will be if you won't play it out, I don't care if I do
+hang, so long as you hang with me.'
+
+'What--what the devil do you mean by keeping on dropping hints
+about--about murder?'
+
+'You shall know, if you like, when you reach the foot of the stairs.
+Take my earnest and well-meant advice, keep in with us, and take my
+word for it that each moment you waste brings the shadow of the
+gallows just a little nearer. I'll give you all the explanations you
+want afterwards, if there ever is an afterwards.'
+
+Mr Cox hesitated. He glanced from one of his companions to the other.
+What he saw on their faces seemed to have on him an odd effect. He
+went with the Flyman into Miss Bewicke's bedroom, looking as if he had
+all at once grown older. Mr Burton followed them with his eyes, the
+peculiar expression of his countenance seeming to endow his
+stereotyped smile with an unusual prominence. He looked, as he had
+said of himself, in a nasty mood.
+
+'Leave the door open, Flyman. I also am interested in the proceedings,
+and should like to be instantly informed when you do light upon my
+uncle's precious jewel.'
+
+He watched for a moment or two the Flyman pulling open such drawers as
+were unlocked and turning over their contents.
+
+'Don't trouble yourself to look at the frills and laces. Women don't
+keep jewels among their underwear. Turn your attention to the
+dressing-table, man.'
+
+The Flyman resented the comment on his mode of procedure.
+
+'You never know where a woman does keep her things, especially the
+thing you're after, as you'd know if you'd as much experience as I
+have.'
+
+Mr Burton, laughing, lit a cigarette.
+
+'All right, man of many felonies. You're quite justified in resenting
+the criticism of the amateur. I was only telling you what was my own
+idea. Only do be quick and illustrate the handiness of which you
+bragged.'
+
+He strolled towards the door which was on the opposite side of the
+room, the one through which the ladies had vanished. He softly tried
+the handle; it still was locked. Taking the cigarette from between his
+lips, he inclined his ear towards the panel and listened.
+
+'They're quiet. I suppose they're in her room. I wonder what they're
+doing? Problem for the papers which give prizes for puzzles. Under the
+circumstances, what might they be expected to be doing? Odds on that
+they're doing something else. One might easily see. It wouldn't take
+long to cut a piece out of this panel, or, for the matter of that, to
+take the lock itself clean off. But would it be worth one's while?
+They've seen enough. Ye whales and little fishes, they've seen too
+much! Better carry the thing to a conclusion without unnecessary
+witnesses. If they're content, we are. What's up now?'
+
+The question was prompted by an exclamation which came from Miss
+Bewicke's bedroom. Mr Cox appeared at the entrance.
+
+'Burton, you said that all we wanted was the ruby; that the rest of
+her things should go untouched.'
+
+'Well?'
+
+'The Flyman's pocketing her jewels.'
+
+Mr Burton crossed the floor.
+
+'That won't do, Flyman. We're here on an expedition of right. We're
+not thieves.'
+
+'You said yourself we might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.'
+
+'I did; and you are aware that that is not the kind of sheep I meant.
+On this occasion I really must ask you to be honest.'
+
+'But I never saw such shiners. Who could resist them, guv'nor? She's
+got enough to stock a shop. Why, if we take 'em away with us, we
+sha'n't be far out, even if we don't get that blessed ruby.'
+
+'It's the ruby or nothing; also, and nothing. Put those things back.'
+
+'I've only nobbled one or two. I've got to look after myself.'
+
+'I, too, have to look after you. You know what was agreed; keep to the
+terms of the agreement, or, though you "nobble" every "shiner" the
+lady owns, you'll be a loser. Put those things back.'
+
+There was something about Mr Burton just then which compelled respect,
+of a kind, which fact the Flyman recognised. His face darkened and, in
+audible tones, he grumbled. But he produced the trinkets, as
+requested, and replaced them, one by one, on their velvet beds.
+
+'Is that all?'
+
+'Every blooming one.'
+
+'Cox, is that all?'
+
+'Yes, I believe it is.' He glanced at the open jewel-case. 'No,
+there's a ring still missing.'
+
+The Flyman cursed.
+
+'Can't a bloke have one?'
+
+'Not unless he wishes to pay for it more than it's worth. Come, man,
+look pleasant.'
+
+The Flyman did not 'look pleasant;' but he restored the ring. Mr
+Burton expressed approval.
+
+'That's better. Now, show yourself as keen in the right direction.
+Give us a proof of the "handiness" you talked about, and find that
+ruby. It'll be worth to you more than all those other things.'
+
+On this point the Flyman, from his manner, seemed to have his doubts;
+but he continued his researches. Mr Cox observed that they were
+strictly confined to what Mr Burton had called the 'right direction.'
+Mr Burton, returning to the locked door, pursued his meditations as he
+listened at the panel.
+
+'It's odd that they're so quiet, and suggests mischief. In such a
+case, surely women are not quiet. Unless--unless what? That's what I
+should like to know.'
+
+'Burton, is this the ruby?'
+
+The words came sharply from Mr Cox, with a sudden interposition from
+the Flyman.
+
+'You give me that! Don't you lay your fingers on the thing!'
+
+'I'm only looking at it.'
+
+'You give it me, I say.'
+
+'Burton!'
+
+The cry was almost an appeal for help. Mr Burton arrived to find
+something very like a tussle taking place. The Flyman was endeavouring
+to obtain possession of something which Mr Cox was holding, and which
+that gentleman was doing his best to keep.
+
+'I found it!' he cried. 'Hand it over!'
+
+'Burton! Quick! Catch!'
+
+Mr Cox tossed something through the air which Mr Burton caught. He had
+just time to see that it was a ring, set with a gleaming red stone,
+when the Flyman was upon him with an emphatic repetition of the demand
+he had made on Mr Cox.
+
+'You hand it over before I down you.'
+
+Mr Cox explained.
+
+'I found it; he didn't. I opened the box, and it was the first thing I
+saw. It had nothing to do with him.'
+
+The Flyman paid no attention to the statement. He merely reiterated
+his request.
+
+'Now, Mr Burton, I don't want no patter. You fork up before there's
+trouble.'
+
+The young gentleman, holding his hand behind his back, was smiling in
+the other's face.
+
+'Gently, Flyman. Let's know exactly where we are before we come to
+business.' The Flyman flung himself upon him without another word. Mr
+Burton never for a moment seemed to lose his self-possession. 'You
+ass! what do you suppose you're going to gain by this?'
+
+While they struggled, the bedroom door was suddenly slammed to. There
+was a clicking sound. The continuation of the argument was instantly
+deferred. Mr Burton hurried to the door.
+
+'They've caught us napping; it's locked. Well, Flyman, I hope you're
+satisfied. Owing to your "handiness," of which we have heard so much,
+in our turn we are trapped.'
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVII
+
+                        THE FIGURES ON THE BED
+
+
+'At anyrate,' remarked Miss Bewicke, as, turning the key in the lock,
+she shut herself and Miss Broad inside the dining-room, 'you can't get
+at us for a time.'
+
+The two girls stood and listened. They heard the handle tried; the
+rapping at the panel.
+
+'You may knock, and knock, but it won't be opened. He's gone. That was
+Horace, dear. How beautifully you knocked him down!'
+
+'What does he want?'
+
+'It's pretty plain. Uncle George's ruby has the attractiveness of the
+Holy Grail. This is another quest for it.'
+
+'But they'll find it if we stop here.'
+
+'And if we don't stop here, what do you propose to do? Fight them to
+the death? Nothing else will be efficacious. They're not the persons,
+and they're not in the mood, to stick at trifles.'
+
+'What a wretch he is! I've heard Guy speak of him, but I'd no idea he
+was as bad as this.'
+
+'My dear Letty, when a bad man is in a bad hole, you've no notion how
+bad that man can be. The question now is, Can we get out through the
+kitchen door, or can they get through the kitchen door to us?'
+
+'Where does that door lead to?'
+
+'Into Louise Casata's bedroom. The beauty of the average flat is that
+you can always pass from any one room into any other, which,
+sometimes, is convenient and sometimes isn't. I'm wondering whether
+Louise is responsible for Horace Burton's presence here, and also
+where she is. I've reasons for believing that it was not her intention
+to go out to-night.'
+
+'I shouldn't keep such a woman about my place, if I were you.'
+
+'I don't intend to any longer. All the same, you've no idea how useful
+she has been. There have been times when I don't know what I should
+have done without her. Still, I fancy that henceforth she and I part
+company.' She opened the door which led into Miss Casata's room, then
+gave utterance to a startled exclamation. 'Why! what is the matter?
+Letty, keep back!'
+
+Returning to the dining-room, she leaned against the door, which she
+had pulled to after her, as if she needed its support. For one who
+was, as a rule, so completely mistress of herself, she showed strange
+emotion. Miss Broad stared at her askance.
+
+'What has happened now? What's in there?'
+
+'I don't know. Don't ask me. Let me get my breath and think, and I'll
+tell you all about it.'
+
+She pressed her hand against her side, as if to still the beating of
+her heart. She seemed unhinged, thrown, in a second, completely off
+her balance. Her agitation was infectious. Probably, without her
+knowing it, Miss Broad's voice trembled and sank.
+
+'Tell me--what it is.'
+
+'Wait a minute, and I'll tell you--all.'
+
+She made an evident effort to get the better of her infirmity. Bracing
+herself up against the door, the little woman looked Miss Broad
+straight in the face.
+
+'Letty, something horrible has happened.'
+
+'What is it?'
+
+'I don't quite know myself; I didn't stop to look.'
+
+'Let me go and see.'
+
+'It's Miss Casata and--a man.'
+
+'A man? What man?'
+
+'I can't say; I only saw it was a man. They're lying on the bed--so
+still. Oh, Letty!'
+
+'May!'
+
+Miss Broad was probably wholly unaware that she had called her
+companion by her Christian name. The unknown horror in the other room
+had laid its grip on her. She was overcome by frightful imaginings,
+not knowing why. She gasped out an unfinished question.
+
+'You don't mean--'
+
+'I don't know what I mean. I only know that there's something there.'
+
+The two girls had been speaking in whispers, as if they stood in a
+presence which compelled hushed voices. Now, suddenly, Miss Bewicke
+raised her tones, extending her small palm towards the door through
+which they had entered.
+
+'Oh! you wretches! wretches!'
+
+She broke into a passion of tears.
+
+'May, for goodness' sake, don't cry!'
+
+'I'm not going to. I don't know why I am so silly, but, for the
+moment, I couldn't help it.' Her sobs ceased almost as rapidly as they
+came. She dried her eyes. 'Letty, let's go and see what's happened.
+I'm afraid Miss Casata's--dead.'
+
+'Dead?'
+
+'Yes; and--the man.'
+
+'The man?'
+
+'They're so still. Let's go and see. Give me your hand.'
+
+Miss Broad yielded her hand. Miss Bewicke opened the door. The two
+peeped through.
+
+The room was not a large one. On one side was an ordinary French
+bedstead. A brass railing was on the head and foot. On this railing
+were hung feminine odds and ends. These made it difficult for anyone
+standing at the door to see clearly what was on the bed. Miss Broad
+perceived that on the outer edge there lay a woman.
+
+'Who's that?'
+
+'That's Louise Casata.'
+
+'Perhaps she's sleeping.'
+
+'She wouldn't sleep through all the noise.'
+
+'She may be ill; I'll go and look at her.'
+
+'Don't you see--that there's a man?'
+
+Miss Broad moved further into the room. She saw what the other alluded
+to. As she did so, she gave utterance to that cry which Mr Horace
+Burton heard, listening in the servants' room beyond--the cry in which
+there was such a mingling of emotions as they welled up to the lips
+from the woman's heart.
+
+Miss Casata lay almost on the extreme edge of the bed fully clothed.
+She was on her back. One arm dangled over the side; her head was a
+little aslant upon the pillow, so that from a little distance it
+looked as if her neck was broken. The whole pose was almost as
+uncomfortable a one as a human being could choose; indeed, the
+conviction was irresistibly borne in on the beholders that it was not
+self-chosen, unless she had sunk on to the bed in a drunken stupor;
+but Miss Bewicke knew that she was no drinker.
+
+However, it was not Miss Casata's plight which had drawn from Miss
+Broad that involuntary cry. Beside her, outlined beneath the
+bedclothes, was a figure, stiff and rigid. With the exception of one
+place, it was completely covered. Some one, curious, perhaps, to learn
+what the thing might mean, had drawn aside sufficient of the
+bedclothes to disclose a portion of the head and face. As a matter of
+fact, the curious person was Mr Horace Burton. When relieving himself
+of the burden of the lady who was once the object of his heart's
+affection, he had been struck by the outlined form which lay so
+curiously still, and had wondered what it was, and had seen; and
+because of what he had seen, had gone back to his companions with the
+fashion of his countenance so changed.
+
+Now Miss Broad saw. The man beside Miss Casata on the bed was Mr
+Holland--Guy Holland--her Guy. It was when she perceived that it was
+he that her heart cried out. Miss Bewicke, who had only realised that
+it was a man, without recognising what man it was, came to her side
+trembling, wondering. When she also knew, she also cried aloud; but
+there was a material difference between the quality of her exclamation
+and Miss Broad's. Hers signified horror and amazement--perhaps
+something of concern; Miss Broad's betokened so many other things
+besides.
+
+The two women went running to the bed; but when Miss Broad showed an
+inclination to lean over and to touch the silent man, the other, as if
+fearful of what actual contact might involve, caught her by the dress.
+
+'No, no; take care!'
+
+Even Miss Broad shrank a little back; for Miss Casata lay between.
+
+'Move the bed!'
+
+The suggestion was Miss Bewicke's. In a moment it had been put into
+force. The bed was wheeled more into the centre of the room, so as to
+permit of passage between it and the wall, and presently the girl was
+at her lover's side. She knelt and looked, but still she did not touch
+him. No tears were in her eyes; she seemed very calm; but her face was
+white, and she was speechless. On her face there was a look which was
+past wonder, past pain, past fear, as if she did not understand what
+it was which was in front of her. Miss Bewicke stood at her side, also
+looking; her dominant expression seemed sheer bewilderment.
+
+He also lay on his back. The bedclothes were withdrawn, so that his
+face was seen down to the chin. No marks of violence were visible. His
+expression was one of complete quiescence. His eyes were closed, as if
+he slept; but if he did, it was very soundly, for there was nothing to
+show that he breathed.
+
+Suddenly Miss Broad found her voice, or the ghost of it. Her lips did
+not move, and the words came thinly from her throat.
+
+'Is he dead?'
+
+The other did not answer; but, leaning over, she drew the bedclothes
+more from off him, and she whispered,--
+
+'Guy!' They waited, but he did not answer. She called again, 'Guy!'
+
+Yet no response. In that land of sleep in which he was, it was plain
+that he heard no voices.
+
+The further withdrawal of the bedclothes had revealed the fact that he
+was fully dressed for dinner, as he was when Miss Bewicke had seen him
+last, the night before. His black bow had come untied; the ends
+strayed over his shirtfront, which was soiled and crumpled. His whole
+attire was in disarray. There were stains of dirt upon his coat. Now
+that they were so close, they perceived that traces of dry mud were on
+his face, as if it had been in close contact with the ground. About
+his whole appearance there was much which was ominous.
+
+The fact that this was so seemed to make a fresh appeal to Miss
+Broad's understanding; probably to something else in her as well.
+
+'Guy!' she cried.
+
+Her tone was penetrating, poignant. If it did not reach the
+consciousness of him to whom she called, in another direction it had a
+curious and unlooked-for effect. As if in response to an appeal which
+had been made directly to herself, Miss Casata, on the opposite side
+of the bed, sat up. The girls clung to each other in startled terror.
+To them, for the moment, it was as if she had risen from the dead.
+
+Although she had sat up, Miss Casata herself did not seem to know
+exactly why. She seemed not only stupid, but a little stupefied, and
+gasped for breath, her respirations resembling convulsions as she
+struggled with the after-effects of the narcotic. The two girls
+observed her with amazement, she, on her part, evidently not realising
+their presence in the least.
+
+It was Miss Bewicke who first attained to some dim comprehension of
+the meaning of the lady's antics.
+
+'She's been drugged; that's what it is. Louise!'
+
+Miss Casata heard, although she did not turn her head, but continued
+to open and shut her mouth in very ugly fashion as she fought for
+breath.
+
+'Yes; I'm coming. Who's calling?'
+
+'I! Look at me! Do you hear? Louise!'
+
+This time, if she heard, Miss Casata gave no sign, but, sinking back
+on the bed, clutched at the counterpane, making a noise, as she gasped
+for breath, as if the walls of her chest would burst.
+
+'Letty, let me go! I must do something. She'll relapse, or worse, if
+we don't take care.'
+
+Miss Bewicke hastened to the wash-handstand. Emptying a jug of water
+into a basin, she took the basin in her hands and dashed the contents,
+with what force she could, into the lady's face.
+
+The salutation was effectual. Miss Casata floundered, spluttering, on
+to the floor, more like herself.
+
+Miss Bewicke confronted her, the basin still in her hands.
+
+'Who did that?'
+
+'I did. Louise, wake up!'
+
+Miss Casata seemed to be endeavouring her utmost to obey the other's
+command.
+
+'What's the matter?'
+
+'That's what I want to know. In particular, I want to know what is the
+meaning of Mr Guy Holland's presence in your room?'
+
+'Holland?' She put her hand up to her head in an effort to collect her
+thoughts. She spoke as if with an imperfect apprehension of what it
+was she was saying. 'He was in the street--lying--on his face--so I
+brought him here--before the policeman came.'
+
+'Before the policeman came? What do you mean? How did you know that he
+was lying in the street?'
+
+'I saw--the Flyman--from the window--knock him down--he took the
+ruby.'
+
+'The Flyman? Who is he?'
+
+'A man--Horace knows--I knew--Horace had set him on. I didn't want him
+to get into trouble, so I brought him here. It was all I could do to
+carry him up the stairs--he was so heavy.'
+
+'And do you mean to say you've had Mr Holland hidden in your room all
+day and night?'
+
+'All day--and night. He's dead. The Flyman killed him. Horace will get
+into trouble--when it's known.'
+
+Miss Casata, in her condition of semi-consciousness, said more than
+she had warrant for. Mr Holland was not dead. Even as she asserted
+that he was, he showed that her assertion was an error. While the
+still partly-stupefied woman struggled to get out of the darkness into
+the light, there came a cry from the white-faced girl on the other
+side of the bed.
+
+'May, he moves!'
+
+Startled into forgetfulness of what it was she held, Miss Bewicke
+dropped the slippery basin from her hands. It broke into fragments
+with a clatter. The noise of the shattered ware seemed actually to
+penetrate to Mr Holland's consciousness. Miss Bewicke would always
+have it that it was her breaking the basin which really brought him
+back to life. In an instant Miss Broad was half beside herself in a
+frenzy of excitement.
+
+'May! May! he lives! Guy! Guy!'
+
+Miss Bewicke, turning, saw that he was alive, but that, apparently,
+when that was said, one had said all.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XVIII
+
+                              REINFORCED
+
+
+Mr Holland had opened his eyes; he had done nothing more. The movement
+might have been owing to an involuntary contraction of the muscles, so
+rigid did his attitude continue to be, so apparently unseeing were the
+staring pupils. But, for the instant, it was sufficient for Miss Broad
+that he had shown signs of volition even to so small an extent. She
+bent over the bed, addressing him by a dozen endearing epithets.
+
+'Guy! My darling! my love! my dear! Don't you know me? It's
+Letty--your own Letty! Speak to me! Guy! Guy!'
+
+But he did not speak. Nor was it possible, to judge from any
+responsive action on his part that he even heard. His continual
+unnatural rigidity cooled the first ardour of the lady's joy. She
+addressed Miss Bewicke. And now the tears were streaming down her
+cheeks.
+
+'May, come here! Look at Guy! Get him to speak to me!'
+
+To enforce compliance with her wish was not so easy, as Miss Bewicke
+saw, if the other did not. There was an uncanny look about Mr
+Holland's whole appearance which was not reassuring. He looked far
+indeed from the capacity for reasonable speech.
+
+'He wants help. We ought to have a doctor at once.'
+
+'Then fetch one--fetch one!'
+
+That there was anything about the request which was at all
+unreasonable, seemingly Miss Broad did not pause to consider; she was
+too preoccupied with her own troubles and his. But to Miss Bewicke the
+difficulty of the errand forcibly occurred.
+
+'You forget--' she began. Then stopped, for she remembered how easy it
+was, in the other's situation, to forget all things save one. She knit
+her brows and thought, the result of her cogitations being a series of
+disjointed sentences.
+
+'They can hardly be such brutes, when they know. And yet it was they
+who put him there. I wonder! Do I dare?'
+
+It seemed that she essayed her courage. She went to the door, and, for
+a moment, listened. Then turned the key, opened it an inch or two.
+What she saw and heard increased her valour, especially what she
+heard. The drawing-room was empty. Loud voices came through the open
+door of the bedroom--her own bedroom on the opposite side--sounds
+which did not speak of peace.
+
+'I do believe they're fighting.'
+
+She stole on tiptoe a foot or two into the empty room, then stopped in
+a flutter as of doubt--what might not happen if they caught her?--then
+tiptoed further, till she had reached the centre of the room. Again
+she paused. If she was seen, it was a long way back to the haven of
+comparative safety she had quitted. But the noise, if anything, grew
+louder. From some of the words which reached her, she judged it
+possible that they were too much occupied with their own proceedings
+to pay heed to anything else. She perceived that, by some stroke of
+good fortune, the key was outside the door. She screwed her courage to
+the sticking-point, forming a sudden resolution. Darting forward,
+thrusting the door to quickly, she turned the key, then, when the key
+was turned, the deed done, the three gentlemen trapped, she leaned
+against the wall, went white, seemed on the verge of fainting.
+
+She went still whiter when the handle was turned within, and Mr Horace
+Burton's voice was heard demanding that the door be undone.
+
+'If they should get out!'
+
+The possibility of the thing, and the fear thereof, acted on her as a
+spur. She tore to the door which led out of the flat, and, throwing it
+open, almost fell into the arms of the cook and housemaid who were
+returning from their Sunday evening out. Seldom have domestic servants
+been more heartily welcomed. She addressed them by their names.
+
+'Wilson! Stevens! go at once for the police!'
+
+Instead of promptly obeying, they stared at her in astonishment. Her
+hat, which she had not removed during the lively incidents which had
+marked the passage of the time since her arrival home, was on one
+side, at that unbecoming angle which is a woman's nightmare; and there
+were other traces of disarray which were not in keeping with her
+best-known characteristics, for, with her, a pin misplaced was the
+thing unspeakable. While the cook and housemaid stared, hesitating to
+start, as they were bidden, in search of the representatives of law
+and order, the lift stopped at the landing, and from it, of all
+persons in the world, Mr Bryan Dumville emerged.
+
+She flew into his arms, as, it may be safely said, she had never flown
+before.
+
+'Oh, Bryan! Bryan! I'm so glad you've come!'
+
+As the flattered gentleman was, no doubt, about to express his
+appreciation of the warmth of his reception, the lift commenced to
+descend. Something else occurred to her.
+
+'Stop! stop!' she cried. The lift returned. The porter looked out
+inquiringly. 'Peters, there are thieves in my rooms! You had better
+come with us at once.'
+
+'Thieves, miss? Hadn't I better--'
+
+She cut the porter's sentence short, relentlessly.
+
+'No, you hadn't. You must come with us at once. Don't you hear me say
+so?'
+
+He went. They all went--the cook and the housemaid, the porter, Mr
+Bryan Dumville, and Miss May Bewicke. She went last. As she went, she
+shut the front and drawing-room doors behind her. She pointed towards
+her bedroom.
+
+'They're in there at this moment--three of them.'
+
+The porter seemed to have his doubts.
+
+'Three of them? You're sure they are thieves, miss?'
+
+'Am I sure? Why do you ask me such a question? Do you think I'm likely
+to make a mistake in a matter like that? Pray, don't be absurd.'
+
+'In that case, if they are thieves, don't you think I'd better fetch
+the police?'
+
+Miss Bewicke's wits worked quickly. Even when circumstances seemed
+against their working at all--since instructing the cook and housemaid
+to do as the porter was now suggesting that he should do--she had
+already been turning things over in her mind, with the result that she
+was not sure that she desired official assistance after all. If the
+police came, arrests would be made; she would have to see the thing
+through to the bitter end. In view of such a possible consummation,
+there were many points to be considered. Had she been an actress, with
+a keen eye for an advertisement--a type which, it is understood, does
+exist--the idea of figuring as the heroine of what the slang of the
+hour calls a 'cause célèbre' might have commended itself to her
+intelligence; but, as it happened, she was not that kind. If these
+gentlemen did come into the hands of the police--at anyrate, on this
+particular charge--it was possible that things might transpire which
+she, and possibly others, would not wish to have mentioned in court
+and in the papers. That the miscreants deserved all the punishment
+which the law might award them, she had no doubt whatever. At the same
+time, she was equally clear that they would duly, and shortly, receive
+their reward, if not at her instance, then at that of others. So, on
+the whole, she decided, in a twinkling, that she would take no final
+step till she saw which way the cat might jump.
+
+'When I want you to fetch the police, I will tell you.' She turned to
+the housemaid. 'But there's one thing, Stevens, you might fetch, and
+must, and that's a doctor. Go to the nearest, and bring him at once.'
+
+Even as she spoke, through the dining-room door there came three
+persons--Miss Broad, with Mr Guy Holland on her arm, looking the most
+woe-begone figure imaginable, but still alive, and plainly walking;
+behind them Miss Casata. For the second time Miss Bewicke
+countermanded her instructions.
+
+'Stay, Stevens! Perhaps the doctor won't be wanted.'
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIX
+
+                          STILL WITH A SMILE
+
+
+The five stared at the three, then, after momentary inspection, as if
+for the purpose of satisfying herself on certain points by visual
+inspection, Miss Bewicke moved towards Mr Holland.
+
+'Oh, Guy, I am so glad to see you better! I do hope that you're all
+right.'
+
+The words were, perhaps, a trifle banal, possibly because, for once,
+the nimble-witted lady was doubtful as to what was exactly the proper
+thing to say. Apparently, however, it was of little consequence what
+she said. The gentleman was still incapable of appreciating at their
+just value either words or phrases. That he knew she spoke to him was
+probable, for he turned and regarded her with vacant looks and glassy
+eyes; but that he realised who she was, or what she meant, was more
+than doubtful. Mumbled words proceeded from his stammering lips.
+
+'All right--yes--quite all right--nothing wrong.'
+
+Miss Broad looked at Miss Bewicke with eyes in which the tears still
+trembled. She appealed to her in a whisper, in tones which quivered.
+
+'Won't you let them fetch a doctor?'
+
+'Let them! Stevens, fetch the man at once.'
+
+This time Stevens went in search of medical aid.
+
+Mr Dumville had been observing Mr Holland with undisguised amazement.
+Now he clothed his thoughts with speech.
+
+'Holland, what on earth's the matter with you? May, what does all this
+mean?'
+
+Miss Bewicke explained; that is, she told as much as she thought it
+necessary and advisable that Mr Dumville should know in the fewest
+words at her command. Mr Dumville professed himself to be, what he
+plainly was, amazed. The tale was very far from being complete in all
+its details, or he would probably have been yet more surprised, in a
+direction, as things were, which he little suspected.
+
+'And do you mean that that man Burton is still upon these premises?'
+
+'He was in my bedroom, when I turned the key, with his two friends.'
+Mr Dumville strode forward. She caught him by the arm. 'What are you
+going to do?'
+
+'Slaughter him!'
+
+'I would rather you did not do that. It would make such a mess upon
+the floor.'
+
+'Do you think that scoundrel's behaviour is a thing to laugh at? I'll
+show you and him, too, where the laughter comes in.'
+
+'My dear Bryan, I know very well that there's nothing laughable about
+Mr Horace Burton or his proceedings. He is--oh, he's all sorts of
+things. I'd rather not tell you all the things I think he is.'
+
+'I know.'
+
+'Of course, you know. But, at the same time, when you have made sure
+that neither he nor either of his friends is taking away any of my
+property upon his person, I should be obliged if you would let them
+go.'
+
+'Let them go! May, you're mad!'
+
+'Believe me, Bryan, I am comparatively sane. I will tell you all my
+reasons later on. At present the thing is to get them gone. You may
+take my word for it that for Mr Horace Burton the day of reckoning is
+close at hand, and that it will be as terrible an one as even you can
+desire.'
+
+'That won't be the same as if I'd killed him.'
+
+'No, it won't be the same; it will be better. Could I creep between
+your arms if I knew that your hands were red with that man's blood? If
+you don't mind, as I locked the door, I'll open it. Please keep your
+hands off him as he comes out--for my sake, dear.'
+
+She gave him a glance which possibly constrained him to obedience. She
+was famous in the theatre for the skill with which she used her eyes.
+Turning the key, throwing the bedroom door wide open, she stood before
+it with a little gesture of invitation.
+
+'Pray, gentlemen, come out.'
+
+And they came out, the hang-dog three, for, though each endeavoured to
+bear himself with an air of unconcern, in no case did the endeavour
+quite succeed. As regards Mr Thomas Cox, the failure was complete. He
+looked like nothing so much as the well-whipped cur which only asks to
+be allowed to take itself away with its tail between its legs. The
+Flyman, who was probably more habituated to positions of the kind,
+succeeded a trifle better. He looked defiance, as if he were prepared
+to match himself, at less than a moment's notice, against whoever
+came. Mr Horace Burton it was, however, who might claim to face the
+situation with the most imperturbable front. He looked about him, not
+jauntily so much as calmly, with his unceasing smile.
+
+'More visitors, Miss Bewicke, I perceive. Ah! Guy, how are you? You're
+looking dicky. Louise, my dearest girl!'
+
+Of its kind, his impudence was glorious. Mr Dumville strode up to him,
+as if forgetful of the lady's prohibition.
+
+'By gad! I'd like to kill you!'
+
+Mr Burton, glancing up at the speaker, did not turn a hair.
+
+'I'm afraid I haven't the honour. Miss Bewicke, may I ask you to
+introduce me to the gentleman?'
+
+'With pleasure. Mr Horace Burton, this is Mr Dumville. It is only at
+my urgent request that he refrains from breaking every bone in your
+body, as he easily could. But you know, and I know, that for you
+there's such a very bad time coming that I feel it's quite safe to
+leave you to the tender mercies of those to whom mercy is unknown.
+Turn out your pockets!'
+
+'Charmed! I quite appreciate the motive which actuates your request,
+Miss Bewicke. Nothing could be more natural. But I give you my word of
+honour that neither of us has anything which belongs to you.'
+
+Notwithstanding, Mr Burton turned his pockets inside out, smiling all
+the time. His companions followed suit, though scarcely with so much
+grace. So far as could be seen, neither of them was in possession of
+anything to which Miss Bewicke could lay claim, as she herself
+admitted.
+
+'I really do believe you, Mr Burton, when you say that you--none of
+you--have property of mine. It sounds odd, and you may wonder why, but
+I do. Good-night.'
+
+'Good-night I am indebted to you, Miss Bewicke, for a pleasant
+evening's entertainment.'
+
+'Don't mention it. When the time comes to balance your accounts,
+you'll find the sum-total of your indebtedness altogether beyond your
+capacity to meet. Go.'
+
+And they went. At least Mr Thomas Cox and the Flyman went--the
+first-named gentleman with an undignified rush, the second not very
+far from his heels; but Mr Burton lingered on the threshold to waft a
+kiss on his finger-tips to Miss Casata.
+
+'Best love, Louise.'
+
+The lady made a dash at him, inarticulate with rage.
+
+'You--you!'
+
+Miss Bewicke stayed her progress.
+
+'Louise!'
+
+Mr Burton laughed.
+
+'My dearest girl, you can't expect to embrace me before all these
+people! Propriety forbids.'
+
+When he had disappeared, Mr Dumville gave voice to his sentiments.
+
+'I wish you'd let me kill him!'
+
+Miss Bewicke nodded her head, with an air of the profoundest wisdom,
+as she laid her little hands on his two arms.
+
+'My dear Bryan, before very long he'll be wanting to kill himself;
+that'll be so much nicer for us and so much worse for him.'
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XX
+
+                       HOW THE CHASE WAS ENDED
+
+
+Mr Samuel Collyer was seated in his office. Spread open on the table
+in front of him was Mr George Burton's will, which apparently he had
+just been studying. The study seemed to have afforded him amusement.
+Leaning back in his chair, he smiled. He referred to his watch.
+
+'Twenty minutes past; they will soon be here. On these occasions,
+punctuality ought to be the rule, and generally is. George Burton was
+a curious man, and left a curious will. And yet I don't know. Why
+should I, or anyone, call it curious? By what right? When a man has
+neither wife nor children, and his only kindred are a couple of
+nephews to whom he is not particularly attached, surely he has a right
+to do as he likes with his own. It is his own--as yet. And if he
+chooses to attach to the succession certain conditions which appeal,
+we'll say, to his sense of humour, what title has anyone, lawyer or
+layman, to comment adversely on the expression of his wishes? So long
+as they are not in opposition to the general welfare of the body
+politic, it seems to me none. In a sense, most wills are curious, when
+you get right into them and understand their ins and outs. I daresay
+mine will be. I'm a bachelor. Upon my word, I don't know who has the
+best claim to the few pence I shall leave. Why shouldn't I ornament my
+testamentary dispositions with a few characteristic touches? Why not?'
+
+While the lawyer propounded to himself this knotty problem, two
+visitors were shown in--Mr Holland, again upon Miss Broad's arm. He
+still was not himself. The effects of the sand-bag, which the Flyman
+had used with more enthusiasm than he had perhaps intended, had not
+yet all vanished. He seemed uncertain about his capacity to steer
+himself. He did not carry himself so upright as was his wont. There
+was a look upon his face which it had not previously worn--of
+indecision, irresolution, as if he was not quite master of his mental
+faculties. That sandbag had landed on the brain. Miss Broad seemed to
+regard him as if he were a child; she watched over him as if he were
+one, and it must be allowed that he appeared to appreciate to the full
+her tender care.
+
+The diplomatic lawyer chose not to see the things which were patent.
+His greeting was,--
+
+'I am glad to see you, Mr Holland, looking so much yourself. I was
+grieved to hear that you had had an accident.'
+
+'Accident!' The reiteration was Miss Broad's. 'You call it accident!'
+
+'My dear young lady, the words which lawyers use are not always
+intended to bear their strict dictionary significance.'
+
+Another visitor was announced--Mr Horace Burton, as much at his ease
+as ever. Miss Broad blazed up at sight of him.
+
+'You dare to come here!'
+
+'Dare! Collyer, who's this young lady? Oh, it's Miss Broad, my future
+cousin. May I ask, Letty--you'll let me call you Letty?--why you
+should speak of my "daring" to come to my own lawyer's office? Hallo,
+Guy, you look squiffy! Buck up, my boy!'
+
+He would have saluted his cousin with his open palm upon the back had
+not Miss Broad caught his arm as it was descending and flung it away.
+He gazed at her with what was meant for admiration.
+
+'You are a warm one, Letty, really now! If you propose to slang Guy,
+as you seem fond of slanging me, you ought to have a pot of money to
+make it worth his while. He's likely to find marriage with you an
+expensive luxury, my dear.'
+
+Mr Holland half rose from the chair on which Miss Broad had placed
+him. He spoke with hesitating tongue.
+
+'You had better be careful--what you say.'
+
+His relative laughed.
+
+'You'd better be careful what you say, or you'll tumble down.'
+
+Miss Broad laid her hand on Mr Holland's shoulder.
+
+'Never mind what he says. I don't. He's not worth noticing.'
+
+'Do you hear that, Collyer? Isn't she severe? But let's to business.
+I'm not come to engage in a tongue-match with a lady. The three months
+are up. Where's the ruby?'
+
+Mr Collyer spoke.
+
+'May I ask, Mr Holland, if you're in possession of the ring in
+question?'
+
+It was Miss Broad who answered.
+
+'No, he is not. Miss Bewicke calls herself his friend, and she even
+pretends to be mine, but her friendship does not go far enough to
+induce her to hand over property to its rightful owner which was never
+hers.'
+
+Comment from Mr Burton,--
+
+'How sad! That's very wrong of her. Shows such deplorable
+moral blindness, doesn't it? She is a wicked woman, is May
+Bewicke--heartless, hypocritical, selfish to the core. Well, Collyer,
+anyhow that settles it. The money's mine, and I give you my personal
+assurance I can do with it.'
+
+'I have not the slightest doubt of that, Mr Burton; but, before we
+conclude, there is something which I have been instructed to hand to
+Mr Holland. It was for that purpose I requested your presence here.
+Permit me, Mr Holland, to hand you this.'
+
+From a drawer in his writing-table the lawyer produced a small parcel.
+When Mr Holland had undone, with somewhat shaky fingers, the outer
+covering, it was seen that within was a leather-covered case. Inside
+was a note, which he unfolded.
+
+
+'Dear Guy,' it ran, 'this is a wedding present from yours, MAY
+BEWICKE.'
+
+
+'This' was a ring--the ring--the famous ruby.
+
+While they gathered round it, with a babble of voices, and Mr Burton
+showed himself disposed to bluster, Miss Bewicke herself appeared at
+the door with Mr Bryan Dumville. She advanced to Mr Holland and Miss
+Broad.
+
+'My dear children, how are you both? So you have the ring? That's all
+right. Directly I heard of the will, I sent it to Mr Collyer--he's my
+uncle, don't you know? I thought it would be safer with him than it
+would be with me. A lone, lorn woman's rooms are always open to the
+machinations of the most dreadful characters, and you never know what
+may happen--burglaries and all sorts of things. And you see I do call
+myself Guy's friend, and I even pretend, Letty, to be yours. Don't I,
+Bryan, dear?'
+
+Some of the latter words suggested that the little lady had been
+listening outside the door. Mr Dumville confined his attention to Mr
+Horace Burton.
+
+'So it's you again? I shall have to kill you after all.'
+
+Actually Mr Burton did not seem altogether at his ease.
+
+'I suppose, Guy, you couldn't let me have a thousand pounds to get
+away with?' He laughed. 'No; it's no good. You'd better let me have it
+when I come out. They're waiting for me outside. A thousand would only
+be a drop in the sea. They wouldn't let me make a bolt of it for
+that.'
+
+As he said, certain persons were waiting for him in the street. When
+he appeared, and it was discovered that he was not to have his uncle's
+money, within an hour he was arrested on a charge of forgery. It was a
+remarkable case, and not a savoury one. Neither prosecutors nor
+prisoner showed to advantage; but as it was clearly proved that Mr
+Horace Burton had forged, and put into circulation, a large number of
+acceptances and other legal documents, the jury had no option but to
+find him guilty. A hard-headed judge sent him to penal servitude for
+fourteen years.
+
+The Flyman soon followed him, it was understood, to the same prison.
+His was a charge of robbery with violence in the City Road. The
+sand-bag again. As there were previous convictions against him, he
+suffered badly.
+
+Mr Thomas Cox is still at large. He was seen lately on the cliff at
+Margate, with his wife and daughter, lounging on a chair listening to
+the band. He looked well and flourishing--an illustration of a sound
+mind in a sound body. But one never knows.
+
+Mr Guy Holland and Mr Bryan Dumville were married at the same church,
+at the same time, on the same day. They are the best of friends. Their
+wives swear by one another. Mrs Guy Holland is convinced that Mrs
+Bryan Dumville is the most charming woman on the English stage, just
+as Mrs Bryan Dumville is certain that Mrs Guy Holland is the
+altogether most delightful person off it.
+
+
+
+                               THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                              EDINBURGH
+                       COLSTON AND COY. LIMITED
+                               PRINTERS
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Chase of the Ruby, by Richard Marsh
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40349 ***