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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40353 ***
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+   1. Page scan source:
+      http://books.google.com/books?id=3DcPAAAAQAAJ
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                        _THE DATCHET DIAMONDS_
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "Shall I shoot all three of you?" Page 265.
+_Frontispiece_.]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                                 THE
+
+                           DATCHET DIAMONDS
+
+
+
+
+                                  BY
+
+                            RICHARD MARSH
+
+      AUTHOR OF "THE CRIME AND THE CRIMINAL," "PHILIP BENNION'S
+                   DEATH," "THE BEETLE," ETC., ETC.
+
+
+
+
+                   _ILLUSTRATED BY STANLEY L. WOOD_
+
+
+
+
+                                LONDON
+                      WARD, LOCK & CO., Limited
+                WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C.
+                        NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE
+
+
+
+
+
+
+        UNWIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS
+
+
+                              CHAPTER I.
+   TWO MEN AND A MAID.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER II.
+   OVERHEARD IN THE TRAIN.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER III.
+   THE DIAMONDS.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER IV.
+   MISS WENTWORTH'S RUDENESS.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER V.
+   IN THE BODEGA.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VI.
+   THE ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VII.
+   THE DATCHET DIAMONDS ARE PLACED IN SAFE CUSTODY.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER VIII.
+   IN THE MOMENT OF HIS SUCCESS.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER IX.
+   A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER X.
+   CYRIL'S FRIEND.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XI.
+   JOHN IRELAND'S WARRANT.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XII.
+   A WOMAN ROUSED.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XIII.
+   THE DETECTIVE AND THE LADY.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIV.
+   AMONG THIEVES.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XV.
+   PUT TO THE QUESTION.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVI.
+   A MODERN INSTANCE OF AN ANCIENT PRACTICE.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XVII.
+   THE MOST DANGEROUS FOE OF ALL.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XVIII.
+   THE LAST OF THE DATCHET DIAMONDS.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIX.
+   A WOMAN'S LOGIC.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER I
+
+                          TWO MEN AND A MAID
+
+
+The band struck up a waltz. It chanced to be the one which they had
+last danced together at the Dome. How well he had danced, and how
+guilty she had felt! Conscious of what almost amounted to a sense of
+impropriety! Charlie had taken her; it was Charlie who had made her
+go--but then, in some eyes, Miss Wentworth might not have been
+regarded as the most unimpeachable of chaperons. That Cyril, for
+instance, would have had strong opinions of his own upon that point,
+Miss Strong was well aware.
+
+While Miss Strong listened, thinking of the last time she had heard
+that waltz, the man with whom she had danced it stood, all at once, in
+front of her. She had half expected that it would be so--half had
+feared it. It was not the first time they had encountered each other
+on the pier; Miss Strong had already begun to more than suspect that
+the chance of encountering her was the magnet which drew Mr. Lawrence
+through the turnstiles. She did not wish to meet him; she assured
+herself that she did not wish to meet him. But, on the other hand, she
+did not wish to go out of her way so as to seem to run away from him.
+
+The acquaintance had begun on the top of the Devil's Dyke in the
+middle of a shower of rain. Miss Strong, feeling in want of
+occupation, and, to speak the truth, a little in the blues, had gone,
+on an unpromising afternoon in April, on the spur of the moment, and
+in something like a temper, on a solitary excursion to the Devil's
+Dyke. On the Downs the wind blew great guns. She could hardly stand
+against it. Yet it did her good, for it suited her mood. She struggled
+on over the slopes, past Poynings, when, suddenly--she, in her
+abstraction, having paid no heed to the weather, and expecting nothing
+of the kind--it came down a perfect deluge of rain. She had a
+walking-stick, but neither mackintosh nor umbrella. There seemed every
+likelihood of her having to return like a drowned rat to Brighton,
+when, with the appropriateness of a fairy tale, some one came rushing
+to her with an umbrella in his hand. She could hardly refuse the
+proffered shelter, and the consequence was that the owner of the
+umbrella escorted her first to the hotel, then to the station, and
+afterwards to Brighton. Nor, after such services had been rendered,
+when they parted at the station did she think it necessary to inform
+him that, not under any circumstances, was he to notice her again;
+besides, from what she had seen of him, she rather liked the man. So,
+when, two days afterwards, he stopped her on the pier to ask if she
+had suffered any ill-effects from her exposure, it took her some
+five-and-twenty minutes to explain that she had not. There were other
+meetings, mostly on the pier; and then, as a climax, that Masonic Ball
+at the Dome. She danced with him five times! She felt all the time
+that she ought not; she knew that she would not have done it if Cyril
+had been there. Miss Wentworth, introduced by Miss Strong, danced with
+him twice, and when asked by Miss Strong if she thought that she--Miss
+Strong--ought to have three dances with him Miss Wentworth declared
+that she did not see why, if she liked, she should not have thirty. So
+Miss Strong had five--which shows that Miss Wentworth's notions of the
+duties of a chaperon were vague.
+
+And now the band was striking up that identical waltz; and there was
+Mr. Lawrence standing in front of the lady with whom he had danced it.
+
+"I believe that that was ours, Miss Strong," he said.
+
+"I think it was."
+
+He was holding her hand in his, and looking at her with something in
+his eyes which there and then she told herself would never do. They
+threaded their way through the crowd of people towards the head of the
+pier, saying little, which was worse than saying much. Although
+Charlie had been working, Miss Strong wished she had stayed at home
+with her; it would have been better than this. A sense of pending
+peril made her positively nervous; she wanted to get away from her
+companion, and yet for the moment she did not see her way to do it.
+
+Beyond doubt Mr. Lawrence was not a man in whose favour nothing could
+be said. He was of medium height, had a good figure, and held himself
+well. He was very fair, with a slight moustache, and a mouth which was
+firm and resolute. His eyes were blue--a light, bright blue--beautiful
+eyes they were, but scarcely of the kind which could correctly be
+described as sympathetic. His complexion was almost like a girl's, it
+was so pink and white; he seemed the picture of health. His manners
+were peculiarly gentle. He moved noiselessly, without any appearance
+of exertion. His voice, though soft, was of so penetrating a quality
+and so completely under control that, without betraying by any
+movement of his lips the fact that he was speaking, he could make his
+faintest whisper audible in a way which was quite uncanny. Whatever
+his dress might be, on him it always seemed unobtrusive; indeed, the
+strangest thing about the man was that, while he always seemed to be
+the most retiring of human beings, in reality he was one of the most
+difficult to be rid of, as Miss Strong was finding now. More than
+once, just as she was about to give him his dismissal, he managed to
+prevent her doing so in a manner which, while she found it impossible
+to resent it, was not by any means to her taste. Finally, finding it
+difficult to be rid of him in any other way, and being, for some
+reason which she would herself have found it difficult to put into
+words, unusually anxious to be freed from his companionship, she
+resolved, in desperation, to leave the pier. She acquainted him with
+her determination to be off, and then, immediately afterwards, not a
+little to her surprise and a good deal to her disgust, she found
+herself walking towards the pier-gates with him at her side. Miss
+Strong's wish had been to part from him there and then; but again he
+had managed to prevent the actual expression of her wish, and it
+seemed plain that she was still to be saddled with his society, at any
+rate, as far as the gates.
+
+Before they had gone half-way down the pier Miss Strong had cause to
+regret that she had not shown a trifle more firmness, for she saw
+advancing towards her a figure which, at the instant, she almost felt
+that she knew too well. It was Cyril Paxton. The worst of it was that
+she was not clear in her own mind as to what it would be best for her
+to do--the relations between herself and Mr. Paxton were of so curious
+a character. She saw that Mr. Paxton's recognition of her had not been
+so rapid as hers had been of him; at first she thought that she was
+going to pass him unperceived. In that case she would go a few steps
+farther with Mr. Lawrence, dismiss him, return, and discover herself
+to Cyril at her leisure. But it was not to be. Mr. Paxton, glancing
+about him from side to side of the pier, observed her on a sudden--and
+he observed Mr. Lawrence too; on which trivial accident hinges the
+whole of this strange history.
+
+Miss Strong knew that she was seen. She saw that Mr. Paxton was coming
+to her. Her heart began to beat. In another second or two he was
+standing in front of her with uplifted hat, wearing a not very
+promising expression of countenance.
+
+"Where's Charlie?" was his greeting.
+
+The lady was aware that the question in itself conveyed a reproach,
+though she endeavoured to feign innocence.
+
+"Charlie's at home; I couldn't induce her to come out. Her 'copy' for
+_Fashion_ has to be ready by the morning; she says she's behind, so
+she stayed at home to finish it."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+That was all that Mr. Paxton said, but the look with which he favoured
+Mr. Lawrence conveyed a very vivid note of interrogation.
+
+"Cyril," explained Miss Strong, "this is Mr. Lawrence. Mr. Lawrence,
+this is Mr. Paxton; and I am afraid you must excuse me."
+
+Mr. Lawrence did excuse her. She and Mr Paxton returned together up
+the pier; he, directly Mr. Lawrence was out of hearing, putting to her
+the question which, though she dreaded, she knew was inevitable.
+
+"Who's that?"
+
+"That is Mr. Lawrence."
+
+"Yes, you told me so much already; who is Mr. Lawrence?"
+
+As she walked Miss Strong, looking down, tapped with the ferrule of
+her umbrella on the boards.
+
+"Oh! he's a sort of acquaintance."
+
+"You have not been long in Brighton, then, without making
+acquaintance?"
+
+"Cyril! I have been here more than a month. Surely a girl can make an
+acquaintance in that time?"
+
+"It depends, I fancy, on the girl, and on the circumstances in which
+she is placed. What is Mr. Lawrence?"
+
+"I have not the faintest notion. I have a sort of general idea that,
+like yourself, he is something in the City. It seems to me that
+nowadays most men are."
+
+"Who introduced him?"
+
+"A shower of rain."
+
+"An excellent guarantor of the man's eligibility, though, even for the
+average girl, one would scarcely have supposed that that would have
+been a sufficient introduction."
+
+Miss Strong flushed.
+
+"You have no right to talk to me like that. I did not know that you
+were coming to Brighton, or I would have met you at the station."
+
+"I knew that I should meet you on the pier."
+
+The lady stood still.
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+The gentleman, confronting her, returned her glance for glance.
+
+"I mean what I say. I knew that I should meet you on the pier--and I
+have."
+
+The lady walked on again; whatever she might think of Mr. Paxton's
+inference, his actual statement was undeniable.
+
+"You don't seem in the best of tempera, Cyril. How is Mr. Franklyn?"
+
+"He was all right when I saw him last--a good deal better than I was
+or than I am."
+
+"What is the matter with you? Are you ill?"
+
+"Matter!" Mr. Paxton's tone was bitter. "What is likely to be the
+matter with the man who, after having had the luck which I have been
+having lately, to crown it all finds the woman he loves philandering
+with a stranger--the acquaintance of a shower of rain--on Brighton
+pier."
+
+"You have no right to speak to me like that--not the slightest! I am
+perfectly free to do as I please, as you are. And, without
+condescending to dispute your inferences--though, as you very well
+know, they are quite unjust!--any attempt at criticism on your part
+will be resented by me in a manner which you may find unpleasant."
+
+A pause followed the lady's words, which the gentleman did not seem
+altogether to relish.
+
+"Still the fact remains that I do love you better than anything else
+in the world."
+
+"Surely if that were so, Cyril, at this time of day you and I would
+not be situated as we are."
+
+"By which you mean?"
+
+"If you felt for me what you are always protesting that you feel,
+surely sometimes you would have done as I wished."
+
+"Which being interpreted is equivalent to saying that I should have
+put my money into Goschens, and entered an office at a salary of a
+pound a week."
+
+"If you had done so you would at any rate still have your money, and
+also, possibly, the prospect of a career."
+
+They had reached the end of the pier, and were leaning over the side,
+looking towards the Worthing lights. Miss Strong's words were followed
+by an interval of silence. When the gentleman spoke again, in his
+voice there was the suspicion of a tremor.
+
+"Daisy, don't be hard on me."
+
+"I don't wish to be hard. It was you who began by being hard on me."
+
+He seemed to pay no heed to her speech, continuing on a line of his
+own--
+
+"Especially just now!"
+
+She glanced at him.
+
+"Why especially just now?"
+
+"Well----" He stopped. The tremor in his voice became more pronounced.
+"Because I'm going for the gloves."
+
+If the light had been clearer he might have seen that her face assumed
+a sudden tinge of pallor.
+
+"What do you mean by you're going for the gloves?"
+
+"I mean that probably by this time tomorrow I shall have either won
+you or lost you for ever."
+
+"Cyril!" There was a catching in her breath. "I hope you are going to
+do nothing--wild."
+
+"It depends upon the point of view." He turned to her with sudden
+passion. "I'm sick of things as they are--sick to death! I've made up
+my mind to know either the best or the worst."
+
+"How do you propose to arrive at that state of knowledge?"
+
+"I've gone a bull on Eries--a big bull. So big a bull that if they
+fall one I'm done."
+
+"How done?"
+
+"I shall be done, because it will be for reasons, good, strong, solid
+reasons, the last deal I shall ever make on the London Stock
+Exchange."
+
+There was silence. Then she spoke again--
+
+"You will lose. You always do lose!"
+
+"Thanks."
+
+"It will be almost better for you that you should lose. I am beginning
+to believe, Cyril, that you never will do any good till you have
+touched bottom, till you have lost all that you possibly can lose."
+
+"Thank you, again."
+
+She drew herself up, drawing herself away from the railing against
+which she had been leaning. She gave a gesture which was suggestive of
+weariness.
+
+"I too am tired. This uncertainty is more than I can stand; you are so
+unstable, Cyril. Your ideas and mine on some points are wide apart. It
+seems to me that if a girl is worth winning, she is worth working for.
+As a profession for a man, I don't think that what you call 'punting'
+on the Stock Exchange is much better than pitch-and-toss."
+
+"Well?"
+
+The word was an interrogation. She had paused.
+
+"It appears to me that the girl who marries a man who does nothing
+else but 'punt' is preparing for herself a long line of
+disappointments. Think how many times you have disappointed me. Think
+of the fortunes you were to have made. Think, Cyril, of the Trumpit
+Gold Mine--what great things were to come of that!"
+
+"I am quite aware that I did invest every penny I could beg, borrow,
+or steal in the Trumpit Gold Mine, and that at present I am the
+fortunate possessor of a trunkful of shares which are not worth a
+shilling a-piece. The reminder is a pleasant one. Proceed--you seem
+wound up to go."
+
+Her voice assumed a new touch of sharpness.
+
+"The long and the short of it is, Cyril--it is better that we should
+understand each other!--if your present speculation turns out as
+disastrously as all your others have done, and it leaves you worse off
+than ever, the relations, such as they are, which exist between us
+must cease. We must be as strangers!"
+
+"Which means that you don't care for me the value of a brass-headed
+pin."
+
+"It means nothing of the kind, as you are well aware. It simply means
+that I decline to link my life with a man who appears incapable of
+keeping his own head above water. Because he insists on drowning
+himself, why should I allow him to drown me too?"
+
+"I observe that you take the commercial, up-to-date view of marriage."
+
+"What view do you take? Are you nearer to being able to marry me
+than ever you were? Are you not farther off? You have no regular
+income--and how many entanglements? What do you propose that we should
+live on--on the hundred and twenty pounds a year which mother left
+me?"
+
+There came a considerable silence. He had not moved from the position
+he had taken up against the railing, and still looked across the
+waveless sea towards the glimmering lights of Worthing. When he did
+speak his tones were cold, and clear, and measured--perhaps the
+coldness was assumed to hide a warmer something underneath.
+
+"Your methods are a little rough, but perhaps they are none the worse
+on that account. As you say so shall it be. Win or lose, to-morrow
+evening I will meet you again upon the pier--that is, if you will
+come."
+
+"You know I'll come!"
+
+"If I lose it will be to say goodbye. Next week I emigrate."
+
+She was still, so he went on--
+
+"Now, if you don't mind, I'll see you to the end of the pier, and say
+goodbye until tomorrow. I'll get something to eat and hurry back to
+town."
+
+"Won't you come and see Charlie?"
+
+"Thank you, I don't think I will. Miss Wentworth has not a
+sufficiently good opinion of me to care if I do or don't. Make her my
+excuses."
+
+Another pause. Then she said, in a tone which was hardly above a
+whisper--
+
+"Cyril, I do hope you'll win."
+
+He stood, and turned, and faced her.
+
+"Do you really mean that, Daisy?"
+
+"You know that I do."
+
+"Then, if you really hope that I shall win--the double event!--as an
+earnest of your hopes--there is no one looking!--kiss me."
+
+She did as he bade her.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II
+
+                        OVERHEARD IN THE TRAIN
+
+
+It was with a feeling of grim amusement that Mr. Paxton bought himself
+a first-class ticket. It was, probably, the last occasion on which he
+would ride first-class for some considerable time to come. The die had
+fallen; the game was lost--Eries had dropped more than one. Not only
+had he lost all he had to lose, he was a defaulter. It was out of his
+power to settle, he was going to emigrate instead. He had with him a
+Gladstone bag; it contained all his worldly possessions that he
+proposed to take with him on his travels. His intention was, having
+told Miss Strong the news, and having bidden a last farewell, to go
+straight from Brighton to Southampton, and thence, by the American
+line, to the continent on whose shores Europe dumps so many of its
+failures.
+
+The train was later than are the trains which are popular with City
+men. It seemed almost empty at London Bridge. Mr. Paxton had a
+compartment to himself. He had an evening paper with him. He turned to
+the money article. Eries had closed a point lower even than he had
+supposed. It did not matter. A point lower, more or less, would make
+no difference to him--the difference would be to the brokers who had
+trusted him. Wishing to do anything but think, he looked to see what
+other news the paper might contain. Some sensational headlines caught
+his eye.
+
+
+            "ROBBERY OF THE DUCHESS OF DATCHET'S DIAMONDS!
+
+                       "AN EXTRAORDINARY TALE."
+
+
+The announcement amused him.
+
+"After all that is the sort of line which I ought to have made my
+own--robbing pure and simple. It's more profitable than what Daisy
+says that I call 'punting.'"
+
+He read on. The tale was told in the usual sensational style, though
+the telling could scarcely have been more sensational than the tale
+which was told. That afternoon, it appeared, an amazing robbery had
+taken place--amazing, first, because of the almost incredible value of
+what had been stolen; and, second, because of the daring fashion in
+which the deed had been done. In spite of the desperate nature of his
+own position--or, perhaps, because of it--Mr. Paxton drank in the
+story with avidity.
+
+The Duchess of Datchet, the young, and, if report was true, the
+beautiful wife of one of England's greatest and richest noblemen, had
+been on a visit to the Queen at Windsor--the honoured guest of the
+Sovereign. As a fitting mark of the occasion, and in order to appear
+before Her Majesty in the splendours which so well became her, the
+Duchess had taken with her the famous Datchet diamonds. As all the
+world knows the Dukes of Datchet have been collectors of diamonds
+during, at any rate, the last two centuries.
+
+The value of their collection is fabulous--the intrinsic value of the
+stones which the duchess had taken with her on that memorable journey,
+according to the paper, was at least £250,000--a quarter of a million
+of money! This was the net value--indeed, it seemed that one might
+almost say it was the trade value, and was quite apart from any
+adventitious value which they might possess, from, for instance, the
+point of view of historical association.
+
+Mr. Paxton drew a long breath as he read:
+
+"Two hundred and fifty thousand pounds--a quarter of a million! I am
+not at all sure that I should not have liked to have had a finger in
+such a pie as that. It would be better than punting at Eries."
+
+The diamonds, it seemed, arrived all right at Windsor, and the duchess
+too. The visit passed off with due _éclat_. It was as Her Grace was
+returning that the deed was done, though how it was done was, as yet,
+a profound mystery.
+
+"Of course," commented Mr. Paxton to himself, "all criminal London
+knew what she had taken with her. The betting is that they never lost
+sight of those diamonds from first to last; to adequately safeguard
+them she ought to have taken with her a regiment of soldiers."
+
+Although she had not gone so far as a regiment of soldiers, that
+precaution had been taken--and precautions, moreover, which had been
+found to be adequate, over and over again, on previous occasions--was
+sufficiently plain. The duchess had travelled in a reserved saloon
+carriage by the five minutes past four train from Windsor to
+Paddington. She had been accompanied by two servants, her maid, and a
+man-servant named Stephen Eversleigh. Eversleigh was one of a family
+of servants the members of which had been in the employment of the
+Dukes of Datchet for generations.
+
+It was he who was in charge of the diamonds. They were in a leather
+despatch-box. The duchess placed them in it with her own hand, locked
+the box, and retained the key in her own possession. Eversleigh
+carried the box from the duchess's apartment in the Castle to the
+carriage which conveyed her to the railway station. He placed it on
+the seat in front of her.
+
+He himself sat outside with the maid. When the carriage reached the
+station he carried it to the duchess's saloon. The duchess was the
+sole occupant of the saloon. She travelled with the despatch-box in
+front of her all the way to London. The duke met her at Paddington.
+Eversleigh again placed the box on the front seat of the carriage, the
+duke and duchess, sitting side by side, having it in full view as the
+brougham passed through the London streets. The diamonds, when not in
+actual use, were always kept, for safe custody, at Bartlett's Bank.
+The confidential agent of the bank was awaiting their arrival when
+the brougham reached the ducal mansion in Grosvenor Square. The
+despatch-box was taken straight to him, and, more for form's sake than
+anything else, was opened by the duchess in his presence, so that he
+might see that it really did contain the diamonds before he gave the
+usual receipt.
+
+It was as well for the bank's sake that on that occasion the form was
+observed. When the box was opened, it was empty! There was nothing of
+any sort to show that the diamonds had ever been in it--they had
+vanished into air!
+
+When he had reached this point Mr. Paxton put the paper down. He
+laughed.
+
+"That's a teaser. The position seems to promise a pleasing problem for
+one of those masters of the art of detection who have been cutting
+such antics lately in popular fiction. If I were appointed to ferret
+out the mystery, I fancy that I should begin by wanting to know a few
+things about her Grace the Duchess. I wonder what happened to that
+despatch-box while she and it were _tête-à-tête?_ It is to be hoped
+that she possesses her husband's entire confidence, otherwise it is
+just possible that she is in for a rare old time of it."
+
+The newspaper had little more to tell. There were the usual attempts
+to fill a column with a paragraph; the stereotyped statements about
+the clues which the police were supposed to be following up, but all
+that they amounted to was this: that the duchess asserted that she had
+placed the diamonds in the despatch-box at Windsor Castle, and that,
+as a matter of plain fact, they were not in it when the box reached
+Grosvenor Square.
+
+Mr. Paxton leaned back in his seat, thrust his hands into his trouser
+pockets, and mused.
+
+"What lucky beggars those thieves must be! What wouldn't any one do
+for a quarter of a million--what wouldn't I? Even supposing that the
+value of the stones is over-stated, and that they are only worth half
+as much, there is some spending in £125,000. It would set me up for
+life, with a little over. What prospect is there in front of me--don't
+I know that there is none? Existence in a country which I have not the
+faintest desire to go to; a life which I hate; a continual struggling
+and striving for the barest daily bread, with, in all human
+probability, failure, and a nameless grave at the end. What use is
+there in living out such a life as that? But if I could only lay my
+hands on even an appreciable fraction of that quarter of a million,
+with Daisy at my side--God bless the girl! how ill I have treated
+her!--how different it all would be!"
+
+Mr. Paxton was possessed by a feeling of restlessness; his thoughts
+pricked him in his most secret places. For him, the train was moving
+much too slowly; had it flown on the wings of the wind it could
+scarcely have kept pace with the whirlwind in his brain. Rising to his
+feet, he began to move backwards and forwards in the space between the
+seats--anything was better than complete inaction.
+
+The compartment in which he was travelling was not a new one; indeed,
+so far was it from being a new one, that it belonged to a type which,
+if not actually obsolete, at any rate nowadays is rarely seen. An
+oblong sheet of plate-glass was let into the partition on either side,
+within a few inches of the roof. This sheet of plate-glass was set in
+a brass frame, the frame itself being swung on a pivot.
+
+Desirous of doing anything which would enable him, even temporarily,
+to escape from his thoughts, Mr. Paxton gave way to his idle and, one
+might almost add, impertinent curiosity. He stood, first on one seat,
+and peered through the glass into the adjoining compartment. So far as
+he was able to see, from the post of vantage which he occupied, it was
+vacant. He swung the glass round on its pivot. He listened. There was
+not a sound. Satisfied--if, that is, the knowledge gave him any
+satisfaction!--that there was no one there, he prepared to repeat the
+process of espial on the other seat.
+
+But in this case the result was different. No sooner had he brought
+his eyes on a level with the sheet of glass, than he dropped down off
+the seat again with the rapidity of a jack-in-the-box.
+
+"By George! I've seen that man before! It would hardly do to be caught
+playing the part of Peeping Tom."
+
+Conscious of so much, he was also conscious at the same time of an
+increase of curiosity. Among Mr. Paxton's attributes was that one
+which is supposed to be the peculiar perquisite of royalty--a memory
+for faces. If, for any cause, a face had once been brought to his
+notice, he never afterwards forgot it. He had seen through that sheet
+of glass a countenance which he had seen before, and that quite
+recently.
+
+"The chances are that I sha'n't be noticed if I am careful; and if I
+am caught I'll make a joke of it. I'll peep again."
+
+He peeped again. As he did so audible words all but escaped his lips.
+
+"The deuce! it's the beggar who was last night with Daisy on the
+pier."
+
+There could not be a doubt about it; in the carriage next to his sat
+the individual whose companionship with Miss Strong had so annoyed
+him. Mr. Paxton, peering warily through the further end of the glass,
+treated Mr. Lawrence to a prolonged critical inspection, which was not
+likely to be prejudiced in that gentleman's favour.
+
+Mr. Lawrence sat facing his observer, on Mr. Paxton's right, in the
+corner of the carriage. That he was not alone was plain. Mr. Paxton
+saw that he smiled, and that his lips were moving. Unfortunately, from
+Mr. Paxton's point of view, it was not easy to see who was his
+associate; whoever it was sat just in front of him, and therefore out
+of Mr. Paxton's line of vision. This was the more annoying in that Mr.
+Lawrence took such evident interest in the conversation he was
+carrying on. An idea occurred to Mr. Paxton.
+
+"The fellow doesn't seem to see me. When I turned that other thing
+upon its pivot it didn't make any sound. I wonder, if I were to open
+this affair half an inch or so, if I could hear what the fellow's
+saying?"
+
+Mr. Paxton was not in a mood to be particular. On the contrary, he was
+in one of those moods which come to all of us, in some dark hour of
+our lives, when we do the things which, being done, we never cease
+regretting. Mr. Paxton knelt on the cushions and he opened the frame,
+as he had said, just half an inch, and he put his ear as close to the
+opening as he conveniently could, without running the risk of being
+seen, and he listened. At first he heard nothing for his pains. He had
+not got his ear just right, and the roar of the train drowned all
+other sounds. Slightly shifting his position Mr. Paxton suddenly
+found, however, that he could hear quite well.
+
+The speakers, to make themselves audible to each other, had to shout
+nearly at the top of their voices, and this, secure in their privacy,
+they did, the result being that Mr. Paxton could hear just as well
+what was being said as the person who, to all intents and purposes,
+was seated close beside him.
+
+The first voice he heard was Mr. Lawrence's.
+
+It should be noted that here and there he lost a word, as probably
+also did the person who was actually addressed; but the general sense
+of the conversation he caught quite well.
+
+"I told you I could do it. You only want patience and resolution to
+take advantage of your opportunities, and a big coup is as easily
+carried off as a small one."
+
+Mr. Lawrence's voice ceased. The rejoinder came from a voice which
+struck Mr. Paxton as being a very curious one indeed. The speaker
+spoke not only with a strong nasal twang, but also, occasionally, with
+an odd idiom. The unseen listener told himself that the speaker was
+probably the newest thing in races--"a German-American."
+
+"With the assistance of a friend--eh?"
+
+Mr. Lawrence's voice again; in it more than a suggestion of scorn.
+
+"The assistance of a friend! When it comes to the scratch, it is on
+himself that a man must rely. What a friend principally does is to
+take the lion's share of the spoil."
+
+"Well--why not? A man will not be able to be much of a friend to
+another, if, first of all, he is not a friend to himself--eh?"
+
+Mr. Lawrence appeared to make no answer--possibly he did not relish
+the other's reasoning. Presently the same voice came again, as if the
+speaker intended to be apologetic--
+
+"Understand me, my good friend, I do not say that what you did was not
+clever. No, it was damn clever!--that I do say. And I always have said
+that there was no one in the profession who can come near you. In your
+line of business, or out of it, how many are there who can touch for a
+quarter of a million, I want to know? Now, tell me, how did you do
+it--is it a secret, eh?"
+
+If Mr. Lawrence had been piqued, the other's words seemed to have
+appeased him.
+
+"Not from you--the thing was as plain as walking! The bigger the thing
+you have to do the more simply you do it the better it will be done."
+
+"It does not seem as though it were simple when you read it in the
+papers--eh? What do you think?"
+
+"The papers be damned! Directly you gave me the office that she was
+going to take them with her to Windsor, I saw how I was going to get
+them, and who I was going to get them from."
+
+"Who--eh?"
+
+"Eversleigh. Stow it--the train is stopping!"
+
+The train was stopping. It had reached a station. The voices ceased.
+Mr. Paxton withdrew from his listening place with his brain in a
+greater whirl than ever. What had the two men been talking about? What
+did they mean by touching for a quarter of a million, and the
+reference to Windsor? The name which Mr. Lawrence had just mentioned,
+Eversleigh--where, quite recently, had he made its acquaintance? Mr.
+Paxton's glance fell on the evening paper which he had thrown on the
+seat. He snatched it up. Something like a key to the riddle came to
+him in a flash!
+
+He opened the paper with feverish hands, turning to the account of the
+robbery of the Duchess of Datchet's diamonds. It was as he thought;
+his memory had not played him false--the person who had been in charge
+of the gems had been a man named Stephen Eversleigh.
+
+Mr. Paxton's hands fell nervelessly on to his knees. He stared into
+vacancy. What did it mean?
+
+The train was off again. Having heard so much, Mr. Paxton felt that he
+must hear more. He returned to the place of listening. For some
+moments, while the train was drawing clear of the station, the voices
+continued silent--probably before exchanging further confidences they
+were desirous of being certain that their privacy would remain
+uninterrupted. When they were heard again it seemed that the
+conversation was being carried on exactly at the point at which Mr.
+Paxton had heard it cease.
+
+The German-American was speaking.
+
+"Eversleigh?--that is His Grace's confidential servant--eh?"
+
+"That's the man. I studied Mr. Eversleigh by proxy, and I found out
+just two things about him."
+
+"And they were--what were they?"
+
+"One was that he was short-sighted, and the other was that he had a
+pair of spectacles which the duke had given him for a birthday
+present, and which he thought no end of."
+
+"That wasn't much to find out--eh?"
+
+"You think so? Then that's where you're wrong. It's perhaps just as
+well for you that you don't have to play first lead."
+
+"The treasury is more in my line--eh? However, what was the use which
+you made of that little find of yours?"
+
+"If it hadn't been for that little find of mine, the possibility is
+that the sparklers wouldn't be where they are just now. A friend of
+mine had a detective camera. Those spectacles were kept in something
+very gorgeous in cases. My friend snapped that spectacle case with his
+camera. I had an almost exact duplicate made of the case from the
+print he got--purposely not quite exact, you know, but devilish near.
+
+"I found myself at Windsor Station just as Her Grace was about to
+start for town. There were a good many people in the booking-office
+through which you have to pass to reach the platform. As I expected,
+the duchess came in front, with the maid, old Eversleigh bringing up
+the rear. Just as Eversleigh came into the booking-office some one
+touched him on the shoulder, and held out that duplicate spectacle
+case, saying, 'I beg your pardon, sir! Have you lost your glasses?' Of
+old Eversleigh's fidelity I say nothing. I don't call mere
+straightness anything;--but he certainly wasn't up to the kind
+of job he had in hand--not when he was properly handled. He has been
+heard to say that he would sooner lose an arm than those precious
+spectacles--because the duke gave them to him, you know. Perhaps he
+would; anyhow, he lost something worth a trifle more than his arm.
+When he felt himself touched on the shoulder, and saw what looked like
+that almighty goggle-box in the stranger's hand, he got all of a
+flurry, jabbed his fist into the inside pocket of his coat, and to
+enable him to do so popped the despatch-box down on the seat beside
+him--as I expected that he would do. I happened to be sitting on that
+seat with a rug, very nicely screened too by old Eversleigh himself,
+and by the stranger with the goggle-box. I nipped my rug over his box,
+leaving another one--own brother to the duchess's--exposed. Old
+Eversleigh found that the stranger's goggle-box was not his--that his
+own was safe in his pocket!--picked up my despatch-box, and marched
+off with it, while I travelled with his by the South-Western line to
+town; and I can only hope that he was as pleased with the exchange as
+I was."
+
+The German-American's voice was heard.
+
+"As you say, in the simplicity of your method, my good friend, was its
+beauty. And indeed, after all, simplicity is the very essence, the
+very soul, of all true art--eh?"
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER III
+
+                             THE DIAMONDS
+
+
+Mr. Paxton heard no more--he made no serious attempt to hear. As the
+German-American ceased to speak the train slowed into Preston Park. At
+the station Mr. Paxton saw that some one else got into the next
+compartment, forming a third, with its previous occupants, the rest of
+the way to Brighton.
+
+Mr. Paxton had heard enough. The whirlwind in his brain, instead of
+becoming less, had grown more. His mental confusion had become worse
+confounded. He seemed unable to collect his ideas. He had attained to
+nothing like an adequate grasp of the situation by the time the train
+had arrived at its journey's end. He alighted, his Gladstone in his
+hand, feeling in a sort of intellectual fog. He saw Mr. Lawrence--also
+carrying a Gladstone--get out of the next compartment. A tall, thin
+man, with high cheekbones, a heavy moustache, and a pronounced
+stoop, got out after him--evidently the German-American. Mr. Paxton
+allowed the pair to walk down the platform in front, keeping
+himself a respectful distance in the rear. They turned into the
+refreshment-room. He went in after them, taking up his position close
+beside them, with, however, no sort of definite intention in his head.
+Mr. Lawrence recognised him at once, showing that he also had a memory
+for faces. He nodded.
+
+"Mr. Paxton, I believe."
+
+Mr. Paxton admitted that that was his name, conscious, on a sudden, of
+a wild impulse to knock the fellow down for daring to accost him.
+
+"What is your drink, Mr. Paxton?"
+
+That was too much; Mr. Paxton was certainly not going to drink with
+the man. He responded curtly--
+
+"I have ordered."
+
+"That doesn't matter, does it? Drink up, and have another with me."
+
+The fellow was actually pressing him to accept of his pestilent
+charity--that was how Mr. Paxton put it to himself. He said
+nothing--not because he had nothing to say, but because never before
+in his life had he felt so stupid, with so little control over either
+his senses or his tongue. He shook his head, walked out of the
+refreshment-room, got into a cab, and drove off to Makell's hotel.
+
+Directly the cab had started and was out of the station yard he told
+himself that he had been a fool--doubly, trebly, a fool--a fool all
+round, from every possible point of view. He ought never to have let
+the scoundrels out of his sight; he ought to have spoken to the
+police; he ought to have done something; under the circumstances no
+one but an idiot would have done absolutely nothing at all. Never
+mind--for the moment it was too late. He would do something to repair
+his error later. He would tell Miss Strong the tale; she would rejoice
+to find a friend of her own figuring as the hero of such a narrative;
+it would be a warning to her against the making of chance
+acquaintance! He would ask her advice; it was a case in which two
+heads might be better than one.
+
+Reaching the hotel, he went straight to his bedroom, still in a sort
+of mental haze. He had a wash--without, however, managing to wash much
+of the haze out of his head. He turned to unlock his Gladstone,
+intending to take out of it his brush and comb. There was something
+the matter with the key, or else with the lock--it would not open. It
+was a brand-new Gladstone, bought with a particular intent; Mr. Paxton
+was very far from being desirous that his proposed voyage to foreign
+parts should prematurely be generally known. Plainly, the lock was not
+in the best of order. Half abstractedly he fumbled with it for some
+seconds, before it could be induced to open, then it was opened rather
+by an exertion of force, than in response to the action of the key.
+
+Having opened it, Mr. Paxton found himself a little puzzled by the
+arrangement of its contents. He could not at first remember just where
+he had put his brush and comb. He felt on the one side, where he had a
+sort of dim idea that it ought to be, and then on the other. He failed
+to light on it on either side. He paused for a moment to consider.
+Then, by degrees, distinctly remembered having placed it in a
+particular corner. He felt for it. It was not there. He wondered where
+it had contrived to conceal itself. He was certain that he had placed
+it in the bag. It must be in it now. He began to empty the bag of all
+its contents.
+
+The first thing he took out was a shirt. He threw it from him on to
+the bed. As it passed through the air something fell from it on to the
+floor--something which came rolling against his foot. He picked it up.
+
+It was a ring.
+
+He could scarcely believe the evidence of his own eyes. He sat staring
+at the trinket in a stupor of surprise. And the more he stared the
+more his wonder grew. That it was a ring there could not be the
+slightest shadow of doubt. It was a woman's ring, a costly one--a hoop
+of diamonds, the stones being of unusual lustre and size.
+
+How could such an article as that have found its way into his
+Gladstone bag?
+
+He picked up another shirt, and as he did so felt that in the front
+there was something hard. He opened the front to see what it was. The
+shirt almost dropped from his hand in the shock of his amazement.
+Something gleamed at him from inside the linen. Taking this something
+out he found himself holding in his hand a magnificent tiara of
+diamonds.
+
+As he knelt there, on one knee, gazing at the gaud, he would have
+presented a promising study for an artist possessed of a sense of
+humour. His mouth was open, his eyes distended to their fullest; every
+feature of his countenance expressed the bewilderment he felt. The
+presence of a ring in that brand-new bag of his was sufficiently
+surprising--but a tiara of diamonds! Was he the victim of some
+extraordinary hallucination, or the hero of a fairy tale?
+
+He stared at the jewel, and from the jewel to the shirt, and from the
+shirt to the bag. Then an idea, beginning at first to glimmer on him
+dimly, suddenly took vivid shape, filling him with a sense of strange
+excitement. He doubted if the bag were his. He leant over it to
+examine it more closely. New brown Gladstone bags, thirty inches in
+length, are apt to be as like each other as peas. This was a new bag,
+his was a new bag--he perceived nothing in the appearance of this one
+to suggest that it was not his.
+
+And yet that this was not his bag he was becoming more and more
+convinced. He turned to the shirt he had been holding. The contents of
+his bag had all been freshly purchased--obviously, this shirt had just
+come from the maker's too. He looked at the maker's name inside the
+neckband. This was not his shirt--it had been bought at a different
+shop; it had one buttonhole in front instead of three; it was not his
+size. He looked hastily at the rest of the things which were in the
+bag--they none of them were his. Had he had his wits about him he
+would have discovered that fact directly the bag was opened. Every
+garment seemed to have been intended to serve as cover to a piece of
+jewellery. He tumbled on to the bed rings, bracelets, brooches,
+necklets; out of vests, shirts, socks, and drawers. Till at last he
+stood, with an air of stupefaction, in front of a heap of glittering
+gems, the like of which he had scarcely thought could have existed
+outside a jeweller's shop.
+
+What could be the meaning of it? By what accident approaching to the
+miraculous could a bag containing such a treasure trove have been
+exchanged for his? What eccentric and inexcusably careless individual
+could have been carrying about with him such a gorgeous collection in
+such a flimsy covering?
+
+The key to the situation came to him as borne by a flash of lightning.
+They were all diamonds on the bed--nothing but diamonds. He caught up
+the evening paper which he had brought with him from town. He turned
+to the list which it contained of the diamonds which had been stolen
+from the Duchess of Datchet. It was as he thought. Incredible though
+it seemed, unless his senses played him false, in front of him were
+those priceless jewels--the world-famed Datchet diamonds! Reflection
+showed him, too, that this astounding climax had been brought about by
+the simplest accident. He remembered that Mr. Lawrence had alighted
+from the railway carriage on to the Brighton platform with the
+Gladstone in his hand;--he remembered now, although it had not struck
+him at the time, that that bag, like his own, had been brown and new.
+In the refreshment-room Mr. Lawrence had put his bag down upon the
+floor. Mr. Paxton had put his down beside it. In leaving, he must have
+caught up Mr. Lawrence's bag instead of his own. He had spoiled the
+spoiler of his spoils. Without intending to do anything of the kind,
+he had played on Mr. Lawrence exactly the same trick which that
+enterprising gentleman had himself--if Mr. Paxton could believe what
+he had overheard him say in the railway carriage--played on the
+Duchess of Datchet.
+
+When Mr. Paxton realised exactly how it was he sat down on the side of
+the bed, and he trembled. It was so like a special interposition of
+Providence--or was it of the devil? He stared at the scintillating
+stones. He took them up and began to handle them. This, according to
+the paper, was the Amsterdam Necklace, so called because one of the
+Dukes of Datchet had bought all the stones for it in Amsterdam. It,
+alone, was worth close in the neighbourhood of a hundred thousand
+pounds.
+
+A hundred thousand pounds! Mr. Paxton's fingers tingled as he thought
+of it. His lips went dry. What would a hundred thousand pounds not
+mean to him?--and he held it, literally, in the hollow of his hand. He
+did not know with certainty whose it was. Providence had absolutely
+thrown it at his head. It might not be the Duchess's, after all. At
+any rate, it would be but robbing the robber.
+
+Then there was the Datchet Tiara, the Begum's Brooch, the Banee's
+Bracelet; if the newspaper could be credited, every piece in the
+collection was historical. As he toyed with them, holding them to the
+light, turning them this way and that, looking at them from different
+points of view, how the touch of the diamonds seemed to make the blood
+in Mr. Paxton's veins run faster!
+
+He began to move about the bedroom restlessly, returning every now and
+then to take still another look at the shimmering lumps of light which
+were beginning to exercise over him a stronger and stronger
+fascination. How beautiful they were! And how low he himself had
+fallen! He could scarcely sink much lower. Anyhow, it would be but to
+pass from one ditch to another. Supposing he obtained for them even a
+tithe of their stated value! At this crisis in his career, what a
+fresh start in life five-and-twenty thousand pounds would mean! It
+would mean the difference between hope and helplessness, between
+opportunity and despair. With his experience, on such a foundation he
+could easily build up a monstrous fortune--a fortune which would mean
+happiness--Daisy's and his own. Then the five-and-twenty thousand
+pounds could be easily returned. Compared with what he would make with
+it, it was but a trifle, after all.
+
+And then the main point was--and Mr. Paxton told himself that on that
+point rested the crux of the position--it would not be the Duchess of
+Datchet who would be despoiled; it was the robbers who, with true
+poetic justice, would be deprived of their ill-gotten gains. She had
+lost them in any case. He--he had but found them. He endeavoured to
+insist upon it, to himself, that he had but found them. True,
+there was such a thing as the finder returning what he had
+found--particularly when he suspected who had been the loser. But who
+could expect a man situated as he was to throw away a quarter of a
+million of money? This was not a case which could be judged by the
+ordinary standards of morality--it was an unparalleled experience.
+
+Still, he could not bring himself to say, straight out, that he would
+stick to what he had got, and make the most of it. His mind was not
+sufficiently clear to enable him to arrive at any distinct decision.
+But he did what was almost equally fatal, he allowed himself, half
+unconsciously--without venturing to put it into so many words--to
+drift. He would see which way the wind blew, and then, if he could, go
+with it. For the present he would do nothing, forgetting that, in such
+a position as his, the mere fact of his doing nothing involved the
+doing of a very great deal. He looked at his watch, starting to find
+it was so late.
+
+"Daisy will be tired of waiting. I must hurry, or she'll be off before
+I come."
+
+He looked into the glass. Somehow there seemed to be a sort of film
+before his eyes which prevented him from seeing himself quite clearly,
+or else the light was bad! But he saw enough of himself to be aware
+that he was not looking altogether his usual self. He endeavoured to
+explain this in a fashion of his own.
+
+"No wonder that I look worried after what I've gone through lately,
+and especially to-day--that sort of thing's enough to take the heart
+out of any man, and make him look old before his time." He set his
+teeth; something hard and savage came into his face. "But perhaps the
+luck has turned. I'd be a fool to throw a chance away if it has. I've
+gone in for some big things in my time; why shouldn't I go in for the
+biggest thing of all, and with one bold stroke more than win back all
+I've lost?"
+
+He suffered his own question to remain unanswered; but he stowed the
+precious gems, higgledy-piggledy, inside the copy of the evening
+paper which contained the news of the robbery of the Duchess of
+Datchet's diamonds; the paper he put into a corner of the Gladstone
+bag which was not his; the bag he locked with greater care than he had
+opened it. When it was fastened, he stood for a moment, surveying it a
+little grimly.
+
+"I'll leave it where it is. No one knows what there is inside it.
+It'll be safe enough. Anyhow, I'll give the common or garden thief a
+chance of providing for himself for life; his qualms on the moral
+aspect of the situation will be fewer than mine. If it's here when I
+come back I'll accept its continued presence as an omen."
+
+He put on his hat, and he went out to find Miss Strong.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV
+
+                      MISS WENTWORTH'S RUDENESS
+
+
+Miss Strong was growing a little tired of waiting. Indeed, she was
+beginning to wonder if Mr. Paxton was about to fail in still another
+something he had undertaken. She loitered near the gates of the pier,
+looking wistfully at every one who entered. The minutes went by, and
+yet "he cometh not," she said.
+
+It was not the pleasantest of nights for idling by the sea. A faint,
+but chilly, breeze was in the air. There was a suspicion of mist. Miss
+Strong was growing more and more conscious that the night was raw and
+damp. To add to the discomfort of her position, just inside the gates
+of Brighton pier is not the most agreeable place for a woman to have
+to wait at night--she is likely to find the masculine prowler
+conspicuously in evidence. Miss Strong had moved away from at least
+the dozenth man who had accosted her, when she referred to her watch.
+
+"I'll give him five minutes more, and then, if he doesn't come, I'm
+off."
+
+Scarcely had she uttered the words than she saw Mr. Paxton coming
+through the turnstile. With a feeling of no inconsiderable relief she
+moved hastily forward. In another moment they were clasping hands.
+
+"Cyril! I'm glad you've come at last! But how late you are!"
+
+"Yes; I've been detained."
+
+The moment he opened his mouth it struck her that about his manner
+there was something odd. But, as a wise woman in her generation, she
+made no comment. Together they went up the pier.
+
+Now that he had come Mr. Paxton did not seem to be in a conversational
+mood. They had gone half-way up; still he evinced no inclination to
+speak. Miss Strong, however, excused him. She understood the cause of
+his silence--or thought she did. Her heart was heavy--on his account,
+and on her own. Her words, when they came, were intended to convey the
+completeness of her comprehension.
+
+"I am so sorry."
+
+He turned, as if her words had startled him.
+
+"Sorry?"
+
+"I know all about it, Cyril."
+
+This time it was not merely a question of appearance. It was an
+obvious fact that he was startled. He stood stock still and stared at
+her. Stammering words came from his lips.
+
+"You know all about it? What--what do you mean?"
+
+She seemed to be surprised at his surprise. "My dear Cyril, you forget
+that there are papers."
+
+"Papers?"
+
+Still he stammered.
+
+"Yes, papers--newspapers. I've had every edition, and of course I've
+seen how Eries have fallen.
+
+"Eries? Fallen? Oh!--of course!--I see!"
+
+She was puzzled to perceive that he appeared positively relieved, as
+though he had supposed and feared that she had meant something
+altogether different. He took off his hat to wipe his brow, although
+the night was very far from being unduly warm. He began walking again,
+speaking now glibly enough, with a not unnatural bitterness.
+
+"They have fallen, sure enough--just as surely as if, if I had gone a
+bear, they would have risen. As you were good enough to say last
+night, it was exactly the sort of thing which might have been
+expected."
+
+"I am so sorry, Cyril."
+
+"What's the use of being sorry?"
+
+His tone was rough, almost rude. But she excused him still.
+
+"Is it very bad?"
+
+Then a wild idea came to him--one which, at the moment, seemed to him
+almost to amount to inspiration. In the disordered condition of his
+faculties--for, temporarily, they were disordered--he felt, no doubt
+erroneously enough, that in the girl's tone there was something
+besides sympathy, that there was contempt as well--contempt for him as
+for a luckless, helpless creature who was an utter and entire failure.
+And he suddenly resolved to drop at least a hint that, while she was
+despising him as so complete a failure, even now there was, actually
+within his grasp, wealth sufficient to satisfy the dreams of avarice.
+
+"I don't know what you call very bad; as regards the Eries it is about
+as bad as it could be. But----"
+
+He hesitated and stopped.
+
+"But what?" She caught sight of his face. She saw how it was working.
+"Cyril, is there any good news to counteract the bad? Have you had a
+stroke of luck?"
+
+Yet he hesitated, already half regretting that he had said anything at
+all. But, having gone so far, he went farther.
+
+"I don't want you to reckon on it just at present, but I think it
+possible that, very shortly, I may find myself in possession of a
+larger sum of money than either of us has dreamed of."
+
+"Cyril! Do you mean it?"
+
+Her tone of incredulity spurred him on.
+
+"Should I be likely to say such a thing if I did not mean it? I mean
+exactly what I said. To be quite accurate, it is possible, nay,
+probable, that before very long I shall be the possessor of a quarter
+of a million of money. I hope that will be enough for you. It will for
+me."
+
+"A quarter of a million! Two hundred and fifty thousand pounds,
+Cyril!"
+
+"It sounds a nice little sum, doesn't it? I hope that it will feel as
+nice when it's mine!"
+
+"But, Cyril, I don't understand. Is it a new speculation you are
+entering on?"
+
+"It is a speculation--of a kind." His tone was ironical, though she
+did not seem to be conscious of the fact. "A peculiar kind. Its
+peculiarity consists in this, that, though I may not be able to lay my
+hands on the entire quarter of a million, I can on an appreciable
+portion of it whenever I choose."
+
+"What is the nature of the speculation? Is it on the Stock Exchange?"
+
+"That, at present, is a secret. It is not often that I have kept a
+secret from you; you will have to forgive me, Daisy, if I keep one
+now."
+
+Something peculiar in his tone caught her ear. She glanced at him
+sharply.
+
+"You are really in earnest, Cyril? You do mean that there is a
+reasonable prospect of your position being improved at last?"
+
+"There is not only a reasonable prospect, there is a practical
+certainty."
+
+"In spite of what you have lost in Eries?"
+
+"In spite of everything." A ring of passion came into his voice.
+"Daisy, don't ask me any more questions now. Trust me! I tell you that
+in any case a fortune, or something very like one, is within my
+grasp."
+
+He stopped, and she was silent. They went and stood where they had
+been standing the night before--looking towards the Worthing lights.
+Each seemed to be wrapped in thought. Then she said softly, in her
+voice a trembling--
+
+"Cyril, I am so glad."
+
+"I am glad that you are glad."
+
+"And I am so sorry for what I said last night."
+
+"What was it you said that is the particular occasion of your sorrow?"
+
+She drew closer to his side. When she spoke it was as if, in some
+strange way, she was afraid.
+
+"I am sorry that I said that if luck went against you to-day things
+would have to be over between us. I don't know what made me say it. I
+did not mean it. I thought of it all night; I have been thinking of it
+all day. I don't think that, whatever happens, I could ever find it in
+my heart to send you away."
+
+"I assure you, lady, that I should not go unless you sent me!"
+
+"Cyril!" She pressed his arm. Her voice sank lower. She almost
+whispered in his ear, while her eyes looked towards the Worthing
+lights. "I think that perhaps it would be better if we were to get
+married as soon as we can--better for both of us."
+
+Turning, he gripped her arms with both his hands.
+
+"Do you mean it?"
+
+"I do; if you do the great things of which you talk or if you don't.
+If you don't there is my little fortune, with which we must start
+afresh, both of us together, either on this side of the world or on
+the other, whichever you may choose."
+
+"Daisy!" His voice vibrated with sudden passion. "Will you come with
+me to the other side of the world in any case?"
+
+"What--even if you make your fortune?"
+
+"Yes; even if I make my fortune!"
+
+She looked at him with that something on her face which is the best
+thing that a man can see. And tears came into her eyes. And she said
+to him, in the words which have been ringing down the ages--
+
+"Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge;
+thy people shall be my people, and thy God, my God; where thou diest,
+will I die, and there will I be buried; the Lord do so to me, and more
+also, if aught but death part thee and me!"
+
+It may be that the words savoured to him of exaggeration; at any rate,
+he turned away, as if something choked his utterance. She, too, was
+still.
+
+"I suppose you don't want a grand wedding."
+
+"I want a wedding, that's all I want. I don't care what sort of a
+wedding it is so long as it's a wedding. And"--again her voice sank,
+and again she drew closer to his side--"I don't want to have to wait
+for it too long."
+
+"Will you be ready to marry me within a month?"
+
+"I will."
+
+"Then within a month we will be married."
+
+They were silent. His thoughts, in a dazed sort of fashion, travelled
+to the diamonds which were in somebody else's Gladstone bag. Her
+thoughts wandered through Elysian fields. It is possible that she
+imagined--as one is apt to do--that his thoughts were there likewise.
+
+All at once she said something which brought him back from what seemed
+to be a waking dream. She felt him start.
+
+"Come with me, and let's tell Charlie."
+
+The suggestion was not by any means to Mr. Paxton's taste. He
+considered for a few seconds, seeming to hesitate. She perceived that
+her proposition had not been received with over-much enthusiasm.
+
+"Surely you don't mind our telling Charlie?"
+
+"No"--his voice was a little surly--"I don't mind."
+
+Miss Charlotte Wentworth, better known to her intimates as Charlie,
+was in some respects a young woman of the day. She was thirty, and she
+wrote for her daily bread--wrote anything, from "Fashions" to
+"Poetry," from "Fiction" to "Our Family Column." She had won for
+herself a position of tolerable comfort, earning something over
+five-hundred a year with satisfactory regularity. To state that is
+equivalent to saying that, on her own lines, she was a woman of the
+world, a citizen of the New Bohemia, capable of holding something more
+than her own in most circumstances in which she might find herself
+placed, with most, if not all, of the sentiment which is supposed to
+be a feminine attribute knocked out of her. She was not bad-looking;
+dressed well, with a suggestion of masculinity; wore pince-nez, and
+did whatsoever it pleased her to do. Differing though they did from
+each other in so many respects, she and Daisy Strong had been the
+friends of years. When Mrs. Strong had died, and Daisy was left alone,
+Miss Wentworth had insisted on their setting up together, at least
+temporarily, a joint establishment, an arrangement from which there
+could be no sort of doubt that Miss Strong received pecuniary
+advantage. Mr. Paxton was not Miss Wentworth's lover--nor, to be
+frank, was she his; the consequence of which was that her brusque,
+outspoken method of speech conveyed to his senses--whether she
+intended it or not--a suggestion of scorn, being wont to touch him on
+just those places where he found himself least capable of resistance.
+
+When the lovers entered, Miss Wentworth, with her person on one chair
+and her feet on another, was engaged in reading a magazine which had
+just come in. Miss Strong, desiring to avoid the preliminary
+skirmishing which experience had taught her was apt to take place
+whenever her friend and her lover met, plunged at once into the heart
+of the subject which was uppermost in her mind.
+
+"I've brought you some good news--at least I think it is good news."
+
+Miss Wentworth looked at her--a cross-examining sort of look--then at
+Mr. Paxton, then back at the lady.
+
+"Good news? One always does associate good news with Mr. Paxton. The
+premonition becomes a kind of habit."
+
+The gentleman thus alluded to winced. Miss Strong did not appear to
+altogether relish the lady's words. She burst out with the news of
+which she spoke, as if with the intention of preventing a retort
+coming from Mr. Paxton.
+
+"We are going to be married."
+
+Miss Wentworth displayed a possibly intentional mental opacity.
+
+"Who is going to be married?"
+
+"Charlie! How aggravating you are! Cyril and I, of course."
+
+Miss Wentworth resumed her reading.
+
+"Indeed! Well, it's no affair of mine. Of course, therefore, I should
+not presume to make any remark. If, however, any one should invite me
+to comment on the subject, I trust that I shall be at the same time
+informed as to what is the nature of the comment which I am invited to
+make."
+
+Miss Strong went and knelt at Miss Wentworth's side, resting her
+elbows on that lady's knees.
+
+"Charlie, won't you give us your congratulations?"
+
+Miss Wentworth replied, without removing her glance from off the open
+page of her magazine--
+
+"With pleasure--if you want them. Also, if you want it, I will give
+you eighteenpence--or even half a crown."
+
+"Charlie! How unkind you are!"
+
+Miss Wentworth lowered her magazine. She looked Miss Strong straight
+in the face. Tears were in the young lady's eyes, but Miss Wentworth
+showed not the slightest sign of being moved by them.
+
+"Unfortunately, as it would seem, though I am a woman, I do
+occasionally allow my conduct to be regulated by the dictates of
+common sense. When I see another woman making a dash towards suicide I
+don't, as a rule, give her a helping push, merely because she happens
+to be my friend; preferentially, if I can, I hold her back, even
+though it be against her will. I have yet to learn in what respect
+Mr. Paxton--who, I gladly admit, is personally a most charming
+gentleman--is qualified to marry even a kitchen-maid. Permit me to
+finish. You told me last night that Mr. Paxton was going a bull on
+Eries; that if they fell one he would be ruined. In the course of the
+day they have fallen more than one; therefore, if what you told me was
+correct, he must be ruined pretty badly. Then, without any sort of
+warning, you come and inform me that you intend to marry the man who
+is doubly and trebly ruined, and you expect me to offer my
+congratulations on the event offhand! On the evidence which is at
+present before the court it can't be done."
+
+"Why shouldn't I marry him, even if he is ruined?"
+
+"Why, indeed? I am a supporter of the liberty of the female subject,
+if ever there was one. Why, if you wished to, shouldn't you marry a
+crossing-sweep? I don't know. But, on the other hand, I don't see on
+what grounds you could expect me to offer you my congratulations if
+you did."
+
+"Cyril is not a crossing-sweep."
+
+"No; he has not even that trade at his finger-ends."
+
+"Charlie!" Mr. Paxton made as if to speak. Miss Strong motioned him to
+silence with a movement of her hand. "As it happens, you are quite
+wrong. It is true that Cyril lost by Eries, but he has more than made
+up for that loss by what he has gained in another direction. Instead
+of being ruined, he has made a fortune."
+
+"Indeed! Pray, how did he manage to do that? I always did think that
+Mr. Paxton was a remarkable man. My confidence in him is beginning to
+be more than justified. And may I, at the same time, ask what is Mr.
+Paxton's notion of a fortune?"
+
+"Tell her, Cyril, all about it."
+
+Thus suffered at last to deliver his soul in words, Mr. Paxton evinced
+a degree of resentment which, perhaps, on the whole, was not
+unjustified.
+
+"I fail to see that there is any necessity for me to justify myself in
+Miss Wentworth's eyes, who, on more than one occasion, has shown an
+amount of interest in my affairs which was only not impertinent
+because it happened to be feminine. But since, Daisy, you appear to be
+anxious that Miss Wentworth should be as satisfied on the subject of
+my prospects and position as you yourself are, I will do the best I
+can. And therefore Miss Wentworth, I would explain that my notion of a
+fortune is a sum equivalent to some ten or twenty times the amount you
+yourself are likely to be able to earn in the whole of your life."
+
+"That ought to figure up nicely. And do you really mean to say, Mr.
+Paxton, that you have lost one fortune and gained another in the
+course of a single day?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"How was it done? I wish you would put me in the way of doing it for
+myself."
+
+"Surely, Miss Wentworth, a woman of your capacity is qualified to do
+anything she pleases without prompting, and solely on her own
+initiative!"
+
+"Thanks, Mr. Paxton, it's very kind of you to say such pretty things,
+but I am afraid you estimate my capacity a thought too highly." Miss
+Wentworth turned in her seat, so as to have the gentleman within her
+range of vision. "You understand, Mr. Paxton, very well how it is.
+Daisy is a lonely child. She belongs to the order of women who were in
+fashion before the commercial instinct became ingrained in the
+feminine constitution. She wants looking after. There are only Mr.
+Franklyn and myself to look after her. Satisfy me that, after all
+liabilities are settled, there is a substantial balance on the right
+side of your account, and I will congratulate you both."
+
+"That, at the moment, I cannot do. But I will do this. I will
+undertake, in less than a fortnight, to prove myself the possessor of
+possibly something like a quarter of a million, and certainly of a
+hundred thousand pounds."
+
+"A quarter of a million! A hundred thousand pounds! Such figures warm
+one's blood. One will almost begin to wonder, Mr. Paxton, if you can
+have come by them honestly."
+
+The words were uttered lightly. Mr. Paxton chose to take them as if
+they had been meant in earnest. His cheeks flushed. His eyes flamed
+fire. He stood up, so beside himself with rage that it was a second or
+two before he could regain sufficient self-control to enable him to
+speak.
+
+"Miss Wentworth, how dare you say such a thing! I have endured more
+from you than any man ought to endure from any woman. But when you
+charge me with dishonesty it is too much, even from you to me. You
+take advantage of your sex to address to me language for which, were
+the speaker a man, I would thrash him within an inch of his life."
+
+Miss Strong, with white face, looked from one to the other.
+
+"Cyril, she didn't mean what you think. Tell him, Charlie, that you
+didn't mean what he thinks."
+
+Through her glasses Miss Wentworth surveyed the angry man with shrewd,
+unfaltering eyes.
+
+"Really, Mr. Paxton puts me in a difficult position. He is so quick to
+take offence where none was intended, that one hardly knows what to
+think. Surely, when a man shows such heat and such violence in
+resenting what only a distorted imagination could twist into an actual
+imputation of dishonesty, it suggests that his own conscience can
+scarcely be quite clear."
+
+Mr. Paxton seemed struggling as if to speak, and then to put a bridle
+on his tongue. The truth is, that he was only too conscious that he
+was in no mood to be a match in argument--or, for the matter of that,
+in retort either--for this clear-sighted lady. He felt that, if he was
+not careful, he would go too far; that he had better take himself away
+before he had made a greater exhibition of himself than he had
+already. So he contented himself with what was meant as an assumption
+of dignity.
+
+"That is enough. Between you and me nothing more need, or can, be
+said. I have the honour, Miss Wentworth, of wishing you goodnight."
+
+She showed no symptoms of being crushed. On the contrary, she retained
+her coolness, and also her powers of exasperation.
+
+"Good-night, Mr. Paxton. Shall I ring the bell, Daisy, or will you
+show Mr. Paxton to the door?"
+
+Miss Strong darted at her a look which, on that occasion at any rate,
+was not a look of love, and followed Mr. Paxton, who already had
+vanished from the room. Finding him in the hall, she nestled up to his
+side.
+
+"I am sorry, Cyril, that this should have happened. If I had had the
+least suspicion of anything of the kind, I never would have asked you
+to come."
+
+Mr. Paxton wore, or attempted to wear, an air of masculine
+superiority.
+
+"My dear Daisy, I have seldom met Miss Wentworth without her having
+insulted me. On this occasion, however, she has gone too far. I will
+never, willingly, darken her door again. I hope you will not ask me;
+but if you do I shall be compelled to decline."
+
+"It's my door as well as hers. But it won't be for long. Still, I
+don't think she meant what you thought she did--she couldn't be so
+absurd! It's a way she has of talking; she often says things without
+considering the construction of which they are capable."
+
+"It is only the fact of her being a woman, my dear Daisy, which gives
+her the impunity of which she takes undue advantage."
+
+"Cyril, you mustn't brand all women because of one. We are not all
+like that. Do you suppose that I am not aware that the person, be it
+man or woman, who imagines you to be capable of dishonesty either does
+not know you, or else is stark, raving mad? Do you think that I could
+love you without the absolute certainty of knowing you to be a man of
+blameless honour? I don't suppose you are an angel--I'm not one
+either, though perhaps you mightn't think it, sir! And I take it for
+granted that you have done plenty of things which you would rather
+have left undone--as I have too! But I do know that, regarded from the
+point of view of any standard, whether human or Divine, in all
+essentials you are an honest man, and that you could be nothing else."
+
+The eulogium was a warm one--it made Mr. Paxton feel a trifle queer.
+
+"Thank you, darling,"
+
+So he murmured, and he kissed her.
+
+"You will meet me again to-morrow night to tell me how the fortune
+fares?"
+
+He tried to avoid doing so; but the effort only failed--he had to
+wince. He could only hope that she did not notice it.
+
+"I will, my darling--on the pier."
+
+"And mind you're punctual!"
+
+"I promise you I'll be punctual to a second."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER V
+
+                            IN THE BODEGA
+
+
+As Mr. Paxton walked away from the house in which the two ladies
+resided, it was with the consciousness strong upon him that his
+position had not been made any easier by what he had said to the lady
+of his love, not to speak of that lady's friend. Before he had met
+Miss Strong he had been, comparatively, free--free, that is, to return
+the diamonds to their rightful owner. Now, it seemed to him, his hands
+were tied--he himself had tied them. He had practically committed
+himself to a course of action which could only point in one direction,
+and that an ugly one.
+
+"What a fool I've been!"
+
+One is apt to tell oneself that sort of thing when the fact is already
+well established, and also, not only without intending to undo one's
+folly, but even when one actually proposes to make it more! As Mr.
+Paxton did then. He told himself, frankly, and with cutting scorn,
+what a fool he had been, and then proceeded to take what, under
+similar circumstances, seems to be a commonly accepted view of the
+situation--assuring, or endeavouring to assure himself, that to pile
+folly on to folly, until the height of it reached the mountain-tops,
+and then to undo it, would be easier than to take steps to undo it at
+once, while it was still comparatively a little thing.
+
+It was perhaps this line of reasoning which induced Mr. Paxton to
+fancy himself in want of a drink. He turned into the Bodega. He
+treated himself to a whisky and soda. While he was consuming the
+fluid and abusing Fate, some one touched him on the shoulder. Looking
+round he found himself confronted by Mr. Lawrence and his friend the
+German-American. Not only was their appearance wholly unexpected, but
+obviously the surprise was not a pleasant one. Mr. Paxton clutched at
+the edge of the bar, glaring at the two men as if they had been
+ghosts.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Paxton."
+
+It was Mr. Lawrence who spoke, in those quiet, level tones with which
+Miss Strong was familiar. To Mr. Paxton's lively imagination their
+very quietude seemed to convey a threat. And Mr. Lawrence kept those
+beautiful blue eyes of his fixed on Mr. Paxton's visage with a
+sustained persistence which, for some cause or other, that gentleman
+found himself incapable of bearing. He nodded, turned his face away,
+and picked up his glass.
+
+But to do Mr. Paxton justice, he was very far from being a coward;
+nor, when it came to the sticking-point, was his nerve at all likely
+to fail him. He realised instantly that he was in a very delicate
+situation, and one on which, curiously enough, he had not reckoned.
+But if Mr. Lawrence and his friend supposed that Mr. Paxton, even if
+taken by surprise, was a man who could, in the long run, be taken at
+an advantage, they were wrong. Mr. Paxton emptied his glass, and
+replied to Mr. Lawrence--
+
+"It's not a pleasant evening, is it? I think that up at the station
+you asked me to have a drink with you. Now, perhaps, you'll have one
+with me?"
+
+As he spoke Mr. Paxton was conscious that the German-American was
+regarding him, if possible, even more intently than his friend. This
+was the man to whom he had taken an instinctive dislike. There was
+about the fellow a suggestion of something animal--of something almost
+eerie. He did not strike one as being a person with whom it would be
+wise to quarrel, but rather as an individual who would stick at
+nothing to gain his ends, and who would be moved by no appeals for
+either sympathy or mercy.
+
+"Would you mind stepping outside for a moment, Mr. Paxton?"
+
+"Outside? Why?"
+
+Mr. Paxton's air of innocence was admirably feigned. It might be that
+he was a better actor with a man than with a woman.
+
+"There is something which I rather wish to say to you."
+
+"To me? What is it?"
+
+"I would rather, if you don't mind, speak to you outside."
+
+Mr. Paxton turned his back against the bar facing Mr. Lawrence with a
+smile.
+
+"Aren't we private enough in here? What is it you can have to say to
+me?"
+
+"You know very well what it is I have to say to you. If you take my
+advice, you'll come outside."
+
+Mr. Lawrence still spoke softly, but with a softness which, if one
+might put it so, had in it the suggestion of a scratch. A gleam came
+into his eyes which was scarcely a friendly gleam. The smile on Mr.
+Paxton's countenance broadened.
+
+"I know! You are mistaken. I do not know. You are the merest
+acquaintance; I have never exchanged half a dozen words with you. What
+communication of a private nature you may have to make to me, I have
+not the faintest notion, but, whatever it is, I would rather you said
+it here."
+
+Mr. Paxton's tones were, perhaps purposely, as loud as Mr. Lawrence's
+were soft. What he said must have been distinctly audible, not
+only to those who were close to him but also to those who were at a
+little distance. Especially did the high words seem audible to a
+shabby-looking fellow who was seated at a little table just in front
+of them, and wore his hat a good deal over his eyes, but who, in spite
+of that fact, seemed to keep a very keen eye on Mr. Paxton.
+
+Perceiving that his friend appeared to be slightly nonplussed by Mr.
+Paxton's manner, the German-American came a little forward, as if to
+his assistance. This was a really curious individual. As has been
+already mentioned, he was tall and thin, and, in spite of his stoop,
+his height was accentuated by the fashion of his attire. He wore a
+long, straight black overcoat, so long that it reached almost to his
+ankles. It was wide enough to have admitted two of him. He kept it
+buttoned high up to his chin. His head was surmounted by a top hat,
+which could scarcely have been of English manufacture, for not only
+was it a size or two too large for him, but, relatively, it was almost
+as long as his overcoat. Thus, since his hat came over his forehead,
+and his overcoat came up to his chin, not much of his physiognomy was
+visible, and what was visible was not of a kind to make one long for
+more. His complexion was of a dirty red. His cheekbones were high, and
+his cheeks were hollow. They were covered with tiny bristles, which
+gleamed in the light as he moved his head. His eyes were small, and
+black, and beady, and he had a trick of opening and shutting them, as
+if they were constantly being focussed. His nose was long, and thin,
+and aquiline--that aquiline which suggests a vulture. His voluminous
+moustache was black; one wondered if it owed that shade to nature.
+But, considerable though it was, it altogether failed to conceal his
+mouth, which, as the Irishman said, "rolled right round his jaws."
+Indeed, it was of such astonishing dimensions that the surprise which
+one felt on first encountering it, caused one, momentarily, to neglect
+to notice the practically entire absence of a chin.
+
+This pleasing-looking person, coming to Mr. Paxton, raised a long,
+lean forefinger, capped by what rather resembled a talon than a human
+fingernail, and crooked it in Mr. Paxton's face. And he said, speaking
+with that pronounced German-American accent--
+
+"Permit me, my dear friend, to ask of Mr. Paxton just one
+question--just one little question. Mr. Paxton, what was the colour of
+your Gladstone bag, eh?"
+
+Mr. Paxton felt, as he regarded the speaker, that he was looking at
+what bore a stronger resemblance to some legendary evil creature than
+to a being of our common humanity.
+
+"I fail to understand you, sir."
+
+"And yet my question is a very simple one--a very simple one indeed. I
+ask you, what was the colour of your Gladstone bag, eh?"
+
+"My Gladstone bag!--which Gladstone bag?"
+
+"The Gladstone bag which you brought with you in the train from town,
+eh?"
+
+Mr. Paxton gazed at his questioner with, on his countenance, an entire
+absence of any sort of comprehension. He turned to Mr. Lawrence--
+
+"Is this a friend of yours?"
+
+
+[Illustration: "What was the colour of your Gladstone bag, eh?" _The
+Datchet Diamonds_. _Page_ 82.]
+
+
+The pair looked at Mr. Paxton, then at each other, then back at Mr.
+Paxton, then again at each other. The German-American waggled his lean
+forefinger.
+
+"He is very difficult, Mr. Paxton--very difficult indeed, eh? He
+understand nothing. It is strange. But it is like that sometimes, eh?"
+
+Mr. Lawrence interposed.
+
+"Look here, I'll be plain enough, even for you, Mr. Paxton. Have you
+got my Gladstone bag?"
+
+Mr. Lawrence still spoke softly, but as he put his question Mr. Paxton
+was conscious that his eyes were fixed on him with a singular
+intentness, and his friend's eyes, and the eyes of the man who half
+concealed them with his hat, and, unless he was mistaken, the eyes of
+another shabby individual who was seated at a second table, between
+himself and the door. Indeed, he had a dim perception that sharp eyes
+were watching him from all over the spacious room, and that they
+waited for his words. Still, he managed to retain very fair control
+over his presence of mind.
+
+"Your Gladstone bag! I! What the deuce do you mean?"
+
+"What I say--have you got my Gladstone bag?"
+
+Mr. Paxton drew himself up. Something of menace came on to his face
+and into his eyes. His tone became hard and dry.
+
+"Either I still altogether fail to understand you, Mr. Lawrence, or
+else I understand too much. Your question is such a singular one that
+I must ask you to explain what construction I am intended to place
+upon it."
+
+The two men regarded each other steadily, eye to eye. It is possible
+that Mr. Paxton read more in Mr. Lawrence's glance than Mr. Lawrence
+read in his, for Mr. Paxton perceived quite clearly that, in spite of
+the man's seeming gentleness, on the little voyage on which he was
+setting forth he would have to look out, at the very least, for
+squalls. The German-American broke the silence.
+
+"It is that Mr. Paxton has not yet opened the Gladstone bag, and seen
+that a little exchange has taken place--is that so, eh?"
+
+Mr. Paxton understood that the question was as a loophole through
+which he might escape. He might still rid himself of what already he
+dimly saw might turn out to be something worse than an Old Man of the
+Sea upon his shoulders. But he deliberately declined to avail himself
+of the proffered chance. On the contrary, by his reply he burnt his
+boats, and so finally cut off his escape--at any rate in that
+direction.
+
+"Opened it? Of course I opened it! I opened it directly I got in. I've
+no more idea of what you two men are talking about than the man in the
+moon."
+
+Once more the friends exchanged glances, and again Mr. Lawrence asked
+a question.
+
+"Mr. Paxton, I've a particular reason for asking, and I should
+therefore feel obliged if you will tell me what your bag was like?"
+
+Mr. Paxton never hesitated--he took his second fence in his stride.
+
+"Mine? It's a black bag--rather old--with my initials on one
+side--stuck pretty well all over with luggage labels. But why do you
+ask?"
+
+Again the two men's eyes met, Mr. Lawrence regarding the other with a
+glance which seemed as if it would have penetrated to his inmost soul.
+This time, however, Mr. Paxton's own eyes never wavered. He returned
+the other's look with every appearance of _sang froid_. Mr. Lawrence's
+voice continued to be soft and gentle.
+
+"You are sure that yours was not a new brown bag?"
+
+"Sure! Of course I'm sure! It was black; and, as for being new--well,
+it was seven or eight years old at least."
+
+"Would you mind my having a look at it?"
+
+"What do you want to have a look at it for?"
+
+"I should esteem it a favour if you would permit me."
+
+"Why should I?"
+
+Again the two men's glances met. The German-American spoke.
+
+"Where are you stopping, Mr. Paxton, eh?"
+
+Wheeling round, Mr. Paxton treated the inquirer to anything but an
+enlightening answer.
+
+"What has that to do with you? Although a perfect stranger to me--and
+one to whom I would rather remain a stranger--you appear to take a
+degree of interest in my affairs which I can only characterize
+as--impertinent."
+
+"It is not meant to be impertinent, oh, dear no; oh, no, Mr Paxton,
+eh?"
+
+Putting up his clawlike hand, the fellow began to rub it against his
+apology for a chin. Mr. Paxton turned his attention to Mr. Lawrence;
+it was a peculiarity of that gentleman's bearing that since his
+appearance on the scene he had never for a single instant removed his
+beautiful blue eyes from Mr. Paxton's countenance.
+
+"You have asked me one or two curious questions, without giving me any
+sort of explanation; now perhaps you won't mind answering one or two
+for me. Have you lost a bag?"
+
+"I can scarcely say that I have lost it. I am parted from it--for a
+time."
+
+Mr. Paxton stared, as if not comprehending.
+
+"I trust that the parting may not be longer than you appear to
+anticipate. Was there anything in it of value?"
+
+"A few trifles, which I should not care to lose."
+
+"Where, as you phrase it, did the parting take place?"
+
+"In the refreshment-room at the Central Station--when you went out of
+it."
+
+Mr. Paxton flushed--it might have been a smart bit of acting, but it
+was a genuine flush. He looked at the soft-toned but sufficiently
+incisive speaker as if he would have liked to have knocked him down;
+possibly, too, came very near to trying to do it. Then seemed to
+remember himself, confining himself instead to language which was as
+harsh and as haughty as he could conveniently make it.
+
+"That is not the first time you have dropped a similar insinuation.
+But it shall be the last. I do not wish to have a scene in a public
+place, but if you address me again I will call the attention of the
+attendants to you, and I will have you removed."
+
+So saying, Mr. Paxton, wheeling round on his heels, favoured the
+offender with a capital view of his back. To be frank, he hardly
+expected that his Bombastes Furioso air would prove of much effect. He
+had reason to think that Mr. Lawrence was not the sort of person to
+allow himself to be cowed by such a very unsubstantial weapon as
+tall-talk. His surprise was, therefore, the greater when, the words
+being scarcely out of his mouth, the German-American, touching his
+associate on the arm, made to him some sort of a sign, and without
+another word the two marched off together. Somewhat oddly, as it
+seemed, when they went out two or three other persons went out also;
+but Mr. Paxton particularly noticed that the man with the hat over his
+eyes who was seated at the little table remained behind, suddenly
+appearing, however, to have all his faculties absorbed in a newspaper
+which had been lying hitherto neglected just in front of him.
+
+Mr. Paxton congratulated himself on the apparent effect which his
+words had had.
+
+"That's a good riddance, anyhow. I don't think that I'm of the sort
+that's easily bluffed, but the odds were against me, and--well--the
+stakes are high--very high!"
+
+As Mr. Paxton took off his hat to wipe his forehead it almost seemed
+that his temperature was high as well as the stakes. He called for
+another whisky and soda, As he sipped it, he inquired of himself how
+long it would be advisable for him to stop before taking his
+departure; he had no desire to find the enterprising associates
+waiting for him in the street. While he meditated some one addressed
+him from behind, in precisely the same words which Mr. Lawrence had
+originally used. Commonplace though they were, as they reached his
+ears they seemed to give him a sort of thrill.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Paxton."
+
+Mr. Paxton turned round so quickly that some of the liquor which was
+in the glass that he was holding was thrown out upon the floor. The
+speaker proved to be a rather short and thick-set man, with a stubbly
+grey beard and whiskers, and a pair of shrewd, brown eyes. Mr. Paxton
+beheld him with as few signs of satisfaction as he had evinced on
+first beholding Mr. Lawrence. He tried to pass off his evident
+discomposure with a laugh.
+
+"You! You're a pretty sort of fellow to startle a man like that!"
+
+"Did I startle you?"
+
+"When a man's dreaming of angels, he's easily startled. What's your
+liquid?"
+
+"Scotch, cold. Who was that you were talking to just now?"
+
+Mr. Paxton shot at the stranger a keen, inquisitorial glance.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Weren't you talking to somebody as I came in?--two men, weren't
+there?"
+
+"Oh yes! One of them I never met in my life before, and I never want
+to meet again. The other, the younger, I was introduced to yesterday."
+
+"The younger--what's his name?"
+
+"Lawrence. Do you know him?"
+
+The stranger appeared not to notice the second hurried, almost anxious
+look which Mr. Paxton cast in his direction.
+
+"I fancied I did. But I don't know any one of the name of Lawrence. I
+must have been wrong."
+
+Mr. Paxton applied himself to his glass. It appeared, he told himself,
+that he was in bad luck's way. Only one person could have been more
+unwelcome just at the moment than Mr. Lawrence had been, and that
+person had actually followed hard on Mr. Lawrence's heels. As is the
+way with men of his class, who frequent the highways and the byways of
+great cities, Mr. Paxton had a very miscellaneous acquaintance. Among
+them were not a few officers of police. He had rather prided himself
+on this fact--as men of his sort are apt to do. But now he almost
+wished that he had never been conscious that such a thing as a
+policeman existed in the world; for there--at the moment when he was
+least wanted--standing at his side, was one of the most famous of
+London detectives; a man who was high in the confidence of the
+dignitaries at the "Yard"; a man, too, with whom he had had one or two
+familiar passages, and whom he could certainly not treat with the same
+stand-off air with which he had treated Mr. Lawrence.
+
+He understood now why the associates had stood not on the order of
+their going; it was not fear of him, as in his conceit he had
+supposed, which had sped their heels; it was fear of John Ireland.
+Gentlemen of Mr. Lawrence's kidney were pretty sure to know a man of
+Mr. Ireland's reputation, at any rate by sight. The "office" had been
+given him that a "tec." was in the neighbourhood, and Mr. Lawrence had
+taken himself away just in time, as he hoped, to escape recognition.
+That that hope was vain was obvious from what John Ireland had said.
+In spite of his disclaiming any knowledge of a man named Lawrence, Mr.
+Paxton had little doubt that both men had been "spotted."
+
+A wild impulse came to him. He seemed to be drifting, each second,
+into deeper and deeper waters. Why not take advantage of what might,
+after all, be another rope thrown out to him by chance? Why not make a
+clean breast of everything to Ireland? Why not go right before it was,
+indeed, too late--return her diamonds to the sorrowing Duchess, and
+make an end of his wild dreams of fortune? No; that he would--he could
+not do. At least not yet. He had committed himself to Daisy, to Miss
+Wentworth. There was plenty of time. He could, if he chose, play the
+part of harlequin, and with a touch of his magic wand at any time
+change the scene. He even tried to flatter himself that he might
+play the part of an amateur detective, and track the criminals on
+original--and Fabian!--lines of his own; but self-flattery of that
+sort was too gross even for his digestion.
+
+"Nice affair that of the Duchess of Datchet's diamonds."
+
+The glass almost dropped from Mr. Paxton's hand. The utterance of the
+words at that identical instant was of course but a coincidence; but
+it was a coincidence of a kind which made it extremely difficult for
+him to retain even a vestige of self-control. Fortunately, perhaps,
+Mr. Ireland appeared to be unconscious of his agitation. Putting his
+glass down on the bar-counter, he twisted it round and round by the
+stem. He tried to modulate his voice into a tone of complete
+indifference.
+
+"The Duchess of Datchet's diamonds? What do you mean?"
+
+"Haven't you heard?"
+
+Mr. Paxton hesitated. He felt that it might be just as well not to
+feign too much innocence in dealing with John Ireland.
+
+"Saw something about it as I came down in the train."
+
+"I thought you had. Came down from town?"
+
+"Yes--just for the run."
+
+"Came in the same train with Mr. Lawrence?"
+
+"I rather fancy I did."
+
+"He was in the next compartment to yours, wasn't he?"
+
+Mr. Ireland's manner was almost ostentatiously careless, and he seemed
+to be entirely occupied in the contents of his glass, but for some
+reason Mr. Paxton was beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable.
+
+"Was he? I wasn't aware of it. I noticed him on the platform when the
+train got in."
+
+"With his friend?"
+
+"Yes--the other man was with him."
+
+"Went into the refreshment-room with them, didn't you, and had a
+drink?"
+
+Mr. Paxton turned and looked at the speaker; Mr. Ireland seemed, as it
+were, to studiously refrain from looking at him.
+
+"Upon my word, Ireland, you seem to have kept a keen eye upon my
+movements."
+
+"I came down by that train too; you didn't appear to notice me."
+
+Mr. Paxton wished--he scarcely knew why, but he did wish--that he had.
+He admitted that the detective had gone unrecognised, and there was a
+pause, broken by Mr. Ireland.
+
+"I am inclined to think that I know where those diamonds are."
+
+Odd how conscience--or is it the want of experience?--plays havoc with
+the nervous system of the amateur in crime. Ordinarily, Mr. Paxton was
+scarcely conscious that he had such things as nerves; he was about as
+cool an individual as you would be likely to meet. But since lighting
+on those sparkling pebbles in somebody else's Gladstone bag, he had
+been one mass of nerves, and of exposed nerves, too. Like some
+substance which is in the heart of a thunderstorm, and which is
+peculiarly sensitive to the propinquity of electricity, he had been
+receiving a continual succession of shocks. When Mr. Ireland said in
+that unexpected and, as Mr. Paxton felt, uncalled-for fashion that he
+thought that he knew where those diamonds were, Mr. Paxton was the
+recipient of another shock upon the spot. Half a dozen times it had
+been with an effort that he had just succeeded in not betraying
+himself; he had to make another and a similar effort then.
+
+"You think that you know where those diamonds are?"
+
+"I do!"
+
+There was silence; then the officer of the law went on. Mr. Paxton
+wished within himself that he would not.
+
+"You're a sporting man, Mr. Paxton. I wouldn't mind making a bet that
+they're not far off! There's a chance for you!"
+
+"Oh!" It was not at all a sort of bet which Mr. Paxton was disposed to
+take, nor a kind of chance he relished. "Thanks; but it's a thing
+about which you're likely to know more than I do; I'm not betting. Are
+you on the job?"
+
+"Half the Yard is on the job already."
+
+Silence once more; then again Mr. Ireland. He stood holding his glass
+in his hand, twiddling it between his finger and thumb, and all his
+faculties seemed to be engaged in making an exhaustive examination of
+the liquor it contained; but Mr. Paxton almost felt as if his voice
+had been the voice of fate.
+
+"The man who has those diamonds will find that they won't be of the
+slightest use to him. He'll find that they'll be as difficult to get
+rid of as the Koh-i-Nor. Like the chap who stole the Gainsborough,
+he'll find himself in possession of a white elephant. Every dealer of
+reputation, in every part of the world, who is likely to deal in such
+things knows the Datchet diamonds as well as, if not better than, the
+Duke himself. The chap who has them will have to sell them to a fence.
+That fence will give him no more for them than if they were the
+commonest trumpery. And for this very good reason--the fence will
+either have to lock them up, and bequeath them to his great-grandson,
+on the offchance of his having face enough to put them on the market;
+or else he will have to break them up and offer them to the trade as
+if they were the ordinary stones of commerce, just turned up by the
+shovel. If I were on the cross, Mr. Paxton, I wouldn't have those
+sparklers if they were offered me for nothing. I should be able to get
+very little for them; the odds are they would quod me; and you may
+take this from me, that for the man--I don't care who he is, first
+offender or not--who is found with the Duchess of Datchet's diamonds
+in his possession, it's a lifer!"
+
+Mr. Paxton was silent for a moment or two after the detective had
+ceased. He took another drink; it might have been that his lips stood
+in need of being moistened.
+
+"You think it would be a lifer, do you?"
+
+"I'm certain. After all the jewel thieves who have got clean off, if a
+judge does get this gentleman in front of him--which I think he
+will!--he'll make it as hot for him as ever he can. I shouldn't like
+to see you in such a position, Mr. Paxton, I assure you."
+
+Again Mr. Paxton raised his glass to his lips.
+
+"I hope that you won't, Mr. Ireland, with all my heart."
+
+"I hope I sha'n't, Mr. Paxton. You know, perhaps as well as I do, it's
+an awful position for a man to stand in. What did you say your
+friend's name was--Lawrence? It's queer that I should have thought
+that I knew his face, and yet I don't think that I ever knew any one
+of that name. By the way, I fancy that you once told me that you
+didn't mind having a try at anything in which there was money to be
+made. Now, if you could give me a hint as to the whereabouts of the
+Duchess's diamonds, you might find that there was money in that."
+
+As he emptied his glass Mr. Paxton looked the detective in the face.
+
+"I wish I could, John--I'd be on for the deal! Only, I'm sorry that I
+can't."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI
+
+                      THE ADVENTURES OF A NIGHT
+
+
+"There was something about Mr. John Ireland's manner which I couldn't
+quite make out."
+
+This was what Mr. Paxton told himself as he came out of the Bodega. He
+turned down Ship Street, on to the front, meaning to stroll along the
+King's Road to his hotel. As he came out of the hotel his eye caught a
+glimpse of a loiterer standing in the shadow of a door higher up the
+street. When he had gone a little distance along the King's Road,
+glancing over his shoulder, he perceived that some one was standing at
+the corner of Ship Street, with his face turned in his direction.
+
+"It occurs to me as being just possible that the events of the night
+are going to form a fitting climax to a day of adventure. That Ireland
+can have the slightest inkling of how the case really stands is
+certainly impossible; and yet, if I didn't know it was impossible, I
+should feel just a trifle uneasy. His manner's queer. I wonder if he
+has any suspicions of Lawrence, or of Lawrence's friend. That he knew
+the pair I'll bet my boots. Plainly, Lawrence is not the fellow's real
+name; it is simply the name by which he chose to be known to Daisy. If
+Ireland has cause to suspect the precious pair, seeing me with them
+twice, under what may seem to him to be curious circumstances, may
+cause him to ask himself what the deuce I am doing in such a galley.
+Undoubtedly, there was something in Mr. Ireland's manner which
+suggested that, in his opinion, I knew more about the matter than I
+altogether ought to."
+
+Again Mr. Paxton glanced over his shoulder. About a hundred yards
+behind him a man advanced in his direction. Looking across the road,
+on the seaward side, he perceived that another man was there--a man
+who, as soon as Mr. Paxton turned his head, stopped short, seeming to
+be wholly absorbed in watching the sea. The man immediately behind
+him, however, was still advancing. Mr. Paxton hesitated. A fine rain
+was falling. It was late for Brighton. Except these two, not a
+creature was in sight.
+
+"I wonder if either of those gentlemen is shadowing me, and, if so,
+which?"
+
+He turned up West Street. When he had gone some way up it he peeped to
+see. A man was coming up the same side of the street on which he was.
+
+"There's Number One." He went farther; then looked again. The same man
+was coming on; at the corner of the street a second man was loitering.
+"There's Number Two. Unless I am mistaken that is the gentleman who on
+a sudden found himself so interested in the sea. The question is,
+whether they are both engaged by the same person, or if they are in
+separate employ. I have no doubt whatever that one of them defies the
+chances of catching cold in the interests of Mr. Lawrence. Until the
+little mystery connected with the disappearance of his Gladstone bag
+is cleared up, if he can help it, he is scarcely likely to allow me to
+escape his constant supervision. For him I am prepared; but to be
+attended also by a myrmidon of Ireland's is, I confess, a prospect
+which I do not relish."
+
+He trudged up the hill, pondering as he went. The rain was falling
+faster. He pulled his coat collar up about his ears. He had no
+umbrella.
+
+"This is for me an experience of an altogether novel kind, and
+uncommonly pleasant weather it is in which to make its acquaintance.
+One obvious reason why Mr. Lawrence should have me shadowed is because
+of the strong desire which he doubtless feels to know where it is that
+I am staying. The natural deduction being that where I stay, there
+also stays my Gladstone bag. The odds are that Mr. Lawrence feels a
+quite conceivable curiosity to know in what the difference exactly
+consists between my Gladstone bag, and the one from which he, as he
+puts it, for a time has parted. Why John Ireland should wish to have
+my movements dogged I do not understand; and I am bound to add I would
+much rather not know either."
+
+Mr. Paxton had reached the top of West Street. The man on the same
+side of the road still plodded along. On the opposite side of the
+street, much farther behind, came the other man too. Mr. Paxton formed
+an immediate resolution.
+
+"I have no intention of tramping the streets of Brighton to see which
+of us can be tired first. I'm off indoors. The Gladstone, with its
+contents, I'll confide to the landlord of the hotel, to hold in his
+safe keeping. Then we'll see what will happen."
+
+He swept round the corner into North Street, turning his face again
+towards the front. As he expected, first one follower, then the other,
+appeared.
+
+"It's the second beggar who bothers me. I wonder what it means?"
+
+Arrived at the hotel, Mr. Paxton went straight to the office. He asked
+for the landlord. He was told that the landlord did not reside in the
+building, but that he could see the manager. He saw the manager.
+
+"I have property of considerable value in my Gladstone bag. Have you a
+strong room in which you could keep it for me till the morning?"
+
+The manager replied in the affirmative, adding that he was always
+pleased to take charge of valuables which guests might commit to his
+charge. Mr. Paxton went to his bedroom. He unlocked the Gladstone
+bag--again with some difficulty--unwrapped the evening paper which
+served as an unworthy covering for such priceless treasures. There
+they were--a sight to gladden a connoisseur's heart; to make the blood
+in his veins run faster! How they sparkled, and glittered, and
+gleamed! How they threw off coruscations, each one a fresh revelation
+of beauty, with every movement of his hands and of his eyes. He would
+get nothing for them--was that what John Ireland said? Nothing, at any
+rate, but the lowest market price, as for the commonest gems. John
+Ireland's correctness remained to be proved. There were ways and
+means in which a man in his position--a man of reputation and of the
+world--could dispose of such merchandise, of which perhaps John
+Ireland, with all his knowledge of the shady side of life, had never
+dreamed.
+
+Putting the stones back into the bag, Mr. Paxton took the bag down
+into the office. Then he went into the smoking-room. It was empty when
+he entered. But hardly had he settled himself in a chair, than some
+one else came in, a short, broad-shouldered individual, with piercing
+black eyes and shaven chin and cheeks. Mr. Paxton did not fancy his
+appearance; the man's manner, bearing, and attire were somewhat rough;
+he looked rather like a prizefighter than the sort of guest one would
+expect to encounter in an hotel of standing. Still less was Mr. Paxton
+pleased with the familiarity of his address. The man, placing himself
+in the adjoining chair, plunged into the heart of a conversation as if
+they had been the friends of years. After making one or two remarks,
+which were of so extremely confidential a nature that Mr. Paxton
+hardly knew whether to smile at them as the mere gaucheries of an
+ill-bred person, or to openly resent them as an intentional
+impertinence, the man began to subject him to a species of
+cross-examination which caused him to eye the presumptuous stranger
+with suddenly aroused but keen suspicion.
+
+"Stopping here?"
+
+"It seems that I am, doesn't it?"
+
+"On what floor?"
+
+"Why do you ask?"
+
+"On the third floor, ain't you?"
+
+"Why should you suppose that I am on the third floor?"
+
+"I don't suppose nothing. Perhaps you're on the fourth. Are you on the
+fourth?"
+
+"The world is full of possibilities."
+
+The man took a pull or two at his pipe; then, wholly unabashed, began
+again--
+
+"What's your number?"
+
+"My number?"
+
+"What's the number of your room?"
+
+"I see."
+
+"Well--what is it?"
+
+"What is what?"
+
+"What is what! Why, what's the number of your room?"
+
+"Precisely."
+
+"Well, you haven't told me what it is."
+
+"No."
+
+"Aren't you going to tell me?"
+
+"I am afraid that I must wish you good-night." Rising, Mr. Paxton
+moved towards the door. Turning in his chair, the stranger stared at
+him with an air of grievance.
+
+"You don't seem very polite, not answering a civil question when
+you're asked one."
+
+Mr. Paxton only smiled.
+
+"Good-night."
+
+He could hear the stranger grumbling to himself, even after the door
+was closed. He asked the porter in the hall casually who the man might
+be.
+
+"I don't know, sir. He came in just after you. I don't think I have
+ever seen him before. He has taken a bed for the night."
+
+Mr. Paxton went up the stairs, smiling to himself as he went.
+
+"They are hot on the scent. Mr. Lawrence evidently has no intention of
+allowing the grass to grow under his feet. He means, if the thing is
+possible, to have a sight of that Gladstone bag, at any rate by
+deputy. I may be wrong, but the deputy whom I fancy he has selected is
+an individual possessed of such a small amount of tact--whatever other
+virtues he may have--that I hardly think I am. In any case it is
+probably just as well that that Gladstone bag sleeps downstairs, while
+I sleep up."
+
+The door of Mr. Paxton's bedroom was furnished with a bolt as well as
+a lock. He carefully secured both.
+
+"I don't think that any one will be able to get through that door
+without arousing me. And even should any enterprising person succeed
+in doing so, I fear that his success will go no farther. His labours
+will be unrewarded."
+
+Mr. Paxton was master of a great art--the art of being able to go to
+sleep when he wished. Practically, in bed or out of it, whenever he
+chose, he could treat himself to the luxury of a slumber; and also,
+when he chose, he could wake out of it. This very desirable
+accomplishment did not fail him then. As soon as he was between the
+sheets he composed himself to rest; and in an infinitesimally short
+space of time rest came to him. He slept as peacefully as if he had
+not had a care upon his mind.
+
+And his sleep continued far into the night. But, profound and restful
+though it was, it was light. The slightest unusual sound was
+sufficient to awake him. It was indeed a sound which would have been
+inaudible to nine sleepers out of ten which actually did arouse him.
+Instantly his eyes were wide open and his senses keenly on the alert.
+He lay quite still in bed, listening. And as he listened he smiled.
+
+"I thought so. My friend of the smoking-room, unless I err. Trying to
+turn the key in the lock with a pair of nippers, from outside. It
+won't do, my man. You are a little clumsy at your work. Your
+clumsiness betrayed you. You should get a firm hold of the key before
+you begin to turn, or your nippers are apt to slip, and when they slip
+they make a noise."
+
+Mr. Paxton permitted no sign to escape him which could show the
+intruder who was endeavouring to make an unceremonious entrance into
+the apartment that he had ceased to sleep. He continued to lie quite
+still and to listen, enjoying what he heard. Either the lock was rusty
+or the key refractory, or, as Mr. Paxton said, the operator clumsy,
+but certainly he did take what seemed to be an unconscionable length
+of time in performing what is supposed to be a rudimentary function in
+the burglar's art. He fumbled and fumbled, time after time, in vain.
+One could hear in the prevailing silence the tiny click which his
+nippers made each time they lost their hold. Some three or four
+minutes probably elapsed before a slight grating sound--which seemed
+to show that the lock was rusty--told that, after all, the key had
+been turned. Mr. Paxton almost chuckled.
+
+"Now for the scattering of the labourer's hopes of harvest!"
+
+The person who was outside the door, satisfied that the lock had been
+opened, firmly, yet no doubt gently, grasped the handle of the door.
+He turned it. With all his gentleness it grated. One could hear that
+he gave it an inward push, only to discover that the bolt was shot
+inside. And that same moment Mr. Paxton's voice rang out, clear and
+cold--
+
+"Who's there?"
+
+No answer. Mr. Paxton's sharp ears imagined that they could just
+detect the shuffling along the passage of retreating footsteps.
+
+"Is any one at the door?"
+
+Still no reply. Mr. Paxton's next words were uttered _sotto voce_ with
+a grin.
+
+"I don't fancy that there is any one outside the door just now; nor
+that to-night there is likely to be again. I'll just jump out and undo
+the result of that poor man's patient labours."
+
+Re-locking the door, Mr. Paxton once more composed himself to rest,
+and again sleep came to him almost in the instant that he sought it.
+And for the second time he was aroused by a sound so faint that it
+would hardly have penetrated to the average sleeper's senses. On this
+occasion the interruption was unexpected. He turned himself slightly
+in bed, so that he might be in a better position for listening.
+
+"What's that? If it's my friend of the smoking-room again, he's a
+persevering man. It doesn't sound as if it were coming from the door;
+it sounds more as if it were coming from the window--and, by George,
+it is! What does it mean? It occurs to me that this is a case in which
+it might be advisable that I should make personal inquiries."
+
+Slipping out of bed, Mr. Paxton thrust his legs into a pair of
+trousers. He took a revolver from underneath his pillow.
+
+"It's lucky," he said to himself, as his fingers closed upon the
+weapon, "that my prophetic soul told me that this was a plaything
+which might be likely to come in handy."
+
+In his bare feet he moved towards the window, holding the revolver in
+his hand.
+
+The room was in darkness, but Mr. Paxton was aware that in front of
+the window stood the dressing-table. He knew also that the window
+itself was screened, not only by the blind, but by a pair of heavy
+curtains. Placing himself by the side of the dressing-table, he
+gingerly moved one of the curtains, with a view of ascertaining if his
+doing so would enable him to see what was going on without. One thing
+the movement of the curtains did reveal to him, that there was a dense
+fog out of doors. The blind did not quite fit the window, and enough
+space was left at the side to show that the lights in the King's Road
+were veiled by a thick white mist. Mr. Paxton moved both the blind and
+the curtain sufficiently aside to enable him to see all that there was
+to be seen, without, however, unnecessarily exposing himself.
+
+For a moment or so that all was nothing. Then, gradually becoming
+accustomed to the light, or want of it, he saw something which, while
+little enough in itself, was yet sufficient to have given a nervous
+person a considerable shock. Something outside seemed to reach from
+top to bottom of the window. At first Mr. Paxton could not make out
+what it was. Then he understood.
+
+"A ladder--by George, it is! It would almost seem as if my friend of
+the smoking-room had given his friends outside the 'office,' and that
+they are taking advantage of the fog to endeavor to succeed where he
+has failed. If I had expected this kind of thing, I should have
+preferred to sleep a little nearer to the sky. Instead of the first
+floor, it should have been the third, or even the fourth, beyond the
+reach of ladders. Messrs. Lawrence and Co. seem resolved to beat the
+iron while it's hot. The hunt becomes distinctly keen. It is perhaps
+only natural to expect that they should be anxious; but, so far as I
+am concerned, a little of this sort of thing suffices. They are slow
+at getting to work, considering how awkward they might find it if some
+one were to come along and twig that ladder. Hallo, the fun begins!
+Unless my ears deceive me, some one's coming now."
+
+Mr. Paxton's ears did not deceive him. Even as he spoke a dark
+something appeared on the ladder above the level of the window. It was
+a man's head. The head was quickly followed by a body. The acute
+vision of the unseen watcher could dimly make out, against the white
+background of fog, the faint outline of a man's figure. This figure
+did an unexpected thing. Without any sort of warning, the shutter of a
+dark lantern was suddenly opened, and the light thrown on the window
+in such a way that it shone full into Mr. Paxton's eyes. That
+gentleman retained his presence of mind. He withdrew his head, while
+keeping his hold on the blind; if he had let it go the movement could
+scarcely have failed to have been perceived.
+
+The light vanished almost as quickly as it came. It was followed by a
+darkness which seemed even denser than before. It was a second or two
+before Mr. Paxton could adapt his dazzled eyes to the restoration of
+the blackness. When he did so, he perceived that the man on the ladder
+was leaning over towards the window. If the lantern had been flashed
+on him just then, it would have been seen that an ugly look was on Mr.
+Paxton's countenance.
+
+"You startled me, you brute, with your infernal lantern, and now I've
+half a mind to startle you."
+
+Mr. Paxton made his half-mind a whole one. He brought his revolver
+to the level of his elbow; he pointed it at the window, and he
+fired. The figure on the ladder disappeared with the rapidity of a
+jack-in-the-box. Whether the man had fallen or not, there was for the
+moment no evidence to show. Mr. Paxton dragged the dressing-table
+away, threw up the window, and looked out. The mist came streaming in.
+In the distance could be heard the stampede of feet. Plainly two or
+three persons were making off as fast as their heels would carry them.
+An imperious knocking came at the bedroom door.
+
+"Anything the matter in there?"
+
+Mr. Paxton threw the door wide open. A porter was standing in the
+lighted corridor.
+
+"A good deal's the matter. Burglary's the matter."
+
+"Burglary?"
+
+"Yes, burglary. I caught a man in the very act of opening my window,
+so I had a pop at him. He appears to have got off; but his ladder he
+has left behind."
+
+Other people came into the room, among them the manager. An
+examination of the premises was made from without. The man had
+escaped; but the precipitancy of his descent was evidenced by the fact
+that his lantern, falling from his grasp, had been shattered to
+fragments on the ground.
+
+The fragments he had not stayed to gather. Still less had he and his
+associates stood on the order of their going sufficiently long to
+enable them to remove the ladder.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VII
+
+           THE DATCHET DIAMONDS ARE PLACED IN SAFE CUSTODY
+
+
+When the morning came, and Mr. Paxton found himself being
+cross-examined by the manager, with every probability of his, later
+on, having to undergo an examination by the police, he was as taciturn
+as possible. Although he was by no means sorry that he had fired that
+shot, and so effectually frightened the man upon the ladder, he would
+infinitely rather that less fuss had been made about it afterwards.
+
+One thing Mr. Paxton had decided to do before he left his bedroom. He
+had decided to remove the Datchet diamonds to a place of safety. That
+Mr. Lawrence and his friends had a very shrewd notion that they were
+in his possession was plain; that they were disposed to stick at
+nothing which would enable them to get hold of them again was, if
+possible, plainer. Mr. Paxton was resolute that they should not have
+them, who ever did.
+
+It happened that, in his more prosperous days, he had rented one of
+the Chancery Lane Deposit Company's safes. Nor was the term of his
+tenancy at an end. He determined to do a bold, and, one might add, an
+impudent thing. He would carry the duchess' diamonds back with him to
+town, lock them in the safe he rented, and then, whatever might
+happen, nobody but himself would ever be able to have access to them
+again. He had the Gladstone bag brought up to his bedroom, removed
+from it the precious parcel, returned the bag itself to the manager's
+keeping, and, declining to have his morning meal at the hotel, went up
+by the Pullman train to town, and breakfasted on board. He flattered
+himself that whoever succeeded in taking from him the diamonds before
+his arrival with them in Chancery Lane, would have to be a very clever
+person.
+
+Still, he did not manage to reach his journey's end without having had
+one or two little adventures by the way.
+
+He drove up from the hotel to the station in a hansom cab. As he
+stepped into the cab he noticed, standing on the kerbstone a little to
+the left of the hotel entrance, a man who wore his billycock a good
+deal on the side of his head, and who had a cigar sticking out of the
+corner of his mouth.
+
+He should not have particularly observed the fellow had not the man,
+as soon as he found Mr. Paxton's eyes turned in his direction,
+performed a right-about-face on his heels, and presented an almost
+ostentatious view of the middle of the back. When Mr. Paxton's cab
+rattled into the central yard, and Mr. Paxton proceeded to step out
+from it on to the pavement, another hansom came dashing up behind his
+own, and from it there alighted the man who had turned his back on him
+in front of the hotel. As Mr. Paxton took his ticket this man was at
+his side. And, having purchased his morning paper, as he strolled up
+the platform towards the train, he noticed that the fellow was only a
+few steps in his rear.
+
+There seemed to be no reasonable room for doubt that the man was
+acting as his shadow. No one likes to feel that he is under espionage.
+And Mr. Paxton in particular felt that just recently he had endured
+enough of that kind of thing to last--if his own tastes were to be
+consulted--for the remainder of his life. He decided to put a stop
+there and then to, at any rate, this man's persecution. Suddenly
+standing still, wheeling sharply round, Mr. Paxton found himself face
+to face with the individual with his hat on the side of his head.
+
+"Are you following me?"
+
+Mr. Paxton's manner as he asked the question, though polite, meant
+mischief. The other seemed to be a little taken aback. Then, with an
+impudent air, taking what was left of his cigar out of his mouth, he
+blew a volume of smoke full into Mr. Paxton's eyes.
+
+"Were you speaking to me?"
+
+Mr. Paxton's fingers itched to knock the smoker down. But situated as
+he was, a row in public just then would have been sheer madness. He
+adopted what was probably an even more effective plan. He signalled to
+a passing official.
+
+"Guard!" The man approached. "This person has been following me from
+my hotel. Be so good as to call a constable. His proceedings require
+explanation."
+
+The man began to bluster.
+
+"What do you mean by saying I've been following you? Who are you, I
+should like to know? Can't any one move about except yourself?
+Following you, indeed! It's more likely that you've been following
+me!"
+
+A constable came up. Mr. Paxton addressed him in his cool, incisive
+tones.
+
+"Officer, this person has followed me from my hotel to the station;
+from the station to the booking-office; from the booking-office to the
+bookstall; and now he is following me from the bookstall to the train.
+I have some valuable property on me, with which fact he is possibly
+acquainted. Since he is a complete stranger to me, I should be obliged
+if you would ask him what is the cause of the unusual interest which
+he appears to take in my movements."
+
+The man with the cigar became apologetic.
+
+"The gentleman's quite mistaken; I'm not following him; I wouldn't do
+such a thing! I'm going to town by this train, and it seems that this
+gentleman's going too, and perhaps that's what's made him think that I
+was following. If there's any offence, I'm sure that I beg pardon."
+
+The man held out his hand--it was unclean and it was big--as if
+expecting Mr. Paxton to grasp it. Mr. Paxton, however, moved away
+addressing a final observation to the constable as he went.
+
+"Officer, be so good as to keep an eye upon that man."
+
+Mr. Paxton entered the breakfast carriage. What became of the too
+attentive stranger he neither stopped to see nor cared to inquire. He
+saw no more of him; that was all he wanted. As the train rushed
+towards town he ate his breakfast and he read his paper.
+
+The chief topic of interest in the journals of the day was the robbery
+on the previous afternoon of the Duchess of Datchet's diamonds. It
+filled them to the almost complete exclusion of other news of topical
+importance. There were illustrations of some of the principal jewels
+which had been stolen, together with anecdotes touching on their
+history--very curious some of them were! The Dukes of Datchet seemed
+to have gathered those beautiful gems, if not in ways which were dark,
+then occasionally, at any rate, in ways which were, to say the least
+of it, peculiar. Those glittering pebbles seemed to have been mixed up
+with a good deal of trickery and fraud and crime.
+
+The papers gave the most minute description of the more important
+stones. Even the merest novice in the knowledge of brilliants, if he
+had mastered those details, could scarcely fail to recognise them if
+ever they came his way. It appeared that few even royal collections
+possessed so large a number of really fine examples. Their valuation
+at a quarter of a million was the purest guesswork. The present duke
+would not have accepted for them twice that sum.
+
+Half a million! Five hundred thousand pounds! At even 3 per cent.--and
+who does not want more for his money than a miserable 3 per cent.?--
+that was fifteen thousand pounds a year. Three hundred pounds a week.
+More than forty pounds a day. Over three pounds for every working
+hour. And Mr. Paxton had it in his pockets!
+
+It was not strange that Mr. Lawrence and his associates should betray
+such lively anxiety to regain possession of such a sum as that; it
+would have been strange if they had not! It was a sum worth having;
+worth fighting for; worth risking something for as well.
+
+And yet there was something; indeed, there was a good deal, which
+could be said for the other side of the question. Mr. Paxton owned to
+himself that there was. He could not honestly--if it were still
+possible to speak of honesty in connection with a gentleman who had
+launched himself on such a venture--lay his hand upon his heart, and
+say that he was happier since he had discovered what were the contents
+of somebody else's Gladstone bag. On the contrary, if he could have
+blotted out of his life the few hours which had intervened since the
+afternoon of the previous day, he would have done so, even yet, with a
+willing hand.
+
+Nor was this feeling lessened by an incident which took place on his
+arrival at London Bridge. If he were of an adventurous turn of mind,
+evidently he could not have adopted a more certain means of gratifying
+his peculiar taste than by retaining possession of the duchess's
+diamonds. Adventures were being heaped on him galore.
+
+As he was walking down the platform, looking for a likely cab, some
+one came rushing up against him from behind with such violence as to
+send him flying forward on his face. Two roughly dressed men assisted
+him to rise. But, while undergoing their kindly ministrations, it
+occurred to him, in spite of his half-dazed condition, that they were
+evincing a livelier interest in the contents of his pockets than in
+his regaining his perpendicular. He managed to shake them off,
+however, before their interest had been carried to too generous a
+length.
+
+The inevitable crowd had gathered. A man, attired as a countryman, was
+volubly explaining--with a volubility which was hardly suggestive of a
+yokel--that he was late for market, and was hurrying along without
+looking where he was going, when he stumbled against the gentleman,
+and was so unfortunate as to knock him over. He was profuse, and
+indeed almost lachrymose, in his apologies for the accident which his
+clumsiness had occasioned. Mr. Paxton said nothing. He did not see
+what there was to say. He dusted himself down, adjusted his hat, got
+into a cab and drove away.
+
+Drove straight away to Chancery Lane. And, when he had deposited the
+Duchess of Datchet's diamonds in his safe, and had left them behind
+him in that impregnable fortress, where, if the statements of the
+directors could be believed, fire could not penetrate, nor water, nor
+rust, nor thieves break through and steal, he felt as if a load had
+been lifted off his mind.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII
+
+                     IN THE MOMENT OF HIS SUCCESS
+
+
+Diamonds worth a quarter of a million! And yet already they were
+beginning to hang like a millstone round Mr. Paxton's neck. The relief
+which he felt at having got rid of them from his actual person proved
+to be but temporary. All day they haunted him. Having done the one
+thing which he had come to town to do, he found himself unoccupied. He
+avoided the neighbourhood of the Stock Exchange, and of his usual
+haunts, for reasons. Eries were still declining. The difference
+against him had assumed a portentous magnitude. Possibly, confiding
+brokers were seeking for him high and low, anxious for security which
+would protect them against the necessity of having to make good his
+losses. No, just then the City was not for him. Discretion, of a sort,
+suggested his confining himself to the West-end of town.
+
+Unfortunately, in this case, the West-end meant loitering about bars
+and similar stimulating places. He drank not only to kill time but
+also to drown his thoughts, and the more he tried to drown them, the
+more they floated on the surface.
+
+What a fool he had been--what an egregious fool! How he had exchanged
+his talents for nothing, and for less than nothing. How he had thrown
+away his prospects, his opportunities, his whole life, his all! And
+now, by way of a climax, he had been guilty of a greater folly than
+any which had gone before. He had sold more than his birthright for
+less--much less--than a mess of pottage. He had lost his soul for the
+privilege of being able to hang a millstone round his neck--cast
+honour to the winds for the sake of encumbering himself with a burden
+which would crush him lower and lower, until it laid him level with
+the dust.
+
+Wherever he went, the story of the robbery met his eyes. The latest
+news of it was announced on the placards of the evening papers.
+Newsboys bawled it in his ears. He had only to listen to what was
+being said by the other frequenters of the bars against which he
+lounged to learn that it was the topic of conversation on every
+tongue. All England, all Europe, indeed, one might say that the whole
+of the civilised world was on tiptoe to catch the man who had done
+this thing. As John Ireland had said, he might as soon think of being
+able to sell the diamonds as of being able to sell the Koh-i-Nor.
+Every one who knew anything at all of precious stones was on the
+look-out for them, from pole to pole. During his lifetime he would not
+even venture to attempt their disposal, any attempt of the kind would
+inevitably involve his being instantaneously branded as a felon.
+
+Last night, when he left London, he had had something over two hundred
+pounds in his pockets. Except debts, and certain worthless securities,
+for which no one would give him a shilling, it was all he had left in
+the world. It was not a large sum, but it was sufficient to take him
+to the other side of the globe, and to keep him there until he had had
+time to turn himself round, and to find some means of earning for
+himself his daily bread. He had proposed to go on to Southampton this
+morning, thence straight across the seas. Now what was it he proposed
+to do? Every day that he remained in England meant making further
+inroads into his slender capital. At the rate at which he was living,
+it would rapidly dwindle all away. Then how did he intend to replenish
+it? By selling the duchess's diamonds? Nonsense! He told himself, with
+bitter frankness, that such an idea was absolute nonsense; that such a
+prospect was as shadowy as, and much more dangerous than, the
+proverbial mirage of the desert.
+
+He returned by an afternoon train to Brighton, in about as black a
+mood as he could be. He sat in a corner of a crowded compartment--for
+some reason he rather shirked travelling alone--communing with the
+demons of despair who seemed to be the tenants of his brain; fighting
+with his own particular wild beasts. Arrived at Brighton without
+adventure, he drove straight to Makell's Hotel.
+
+As he advanced into the hall, the manager came towards him out of the
+office.
+
+"Good evening, Mr. Paxton. Did you authorise any one to come and fetch
+away your bag?"
+
+"No. Why?"
+
+"Some fellow came and said that you had sent him for your Gladstone
+bag."
+
+"I did nothing of the kind. Did you give it him?"
+
+The manager smiled.
+
+"Hardly. You had confided it to my safe keeping, and I was scarcely
+likely to hand it to a stranger who was unable to present a more
+sufficient authority than he appeared to have. We make it a rule that
+articles entrusted to our charge are returned to the owners only, on
+personal application."
+
+"What sort of a man was he to look at?"
+
+"Oh, a shabby-looking chap, very much down at heel indeed,
+middle-aged; the sort of man whom you would expect would run
+messages."
+
+"Tell me, as exactly as you can, what it was he said."
+
+"He said that Mr. Paxton had sent him for his Gladstone bag. I asked
+him where you were. He said you were at Medina Villas, and you wanted
+your bag. You had given him a shilling to come for it, and you were to
+give him another shilling when he took it back. I told him our rule
+referring to property deposited with us by guests, and he made off."
+
+Medina Villas? Miss Strong resided in Medina Villas, and Miss
+Wentworth; with which fact Mr. Lawrence was possibly acquainted. Once
+more in this latest dash for the bag Mr. Paxton seemed to trace that
+gentleman's fine Roman hand. He thanked the manager for the care which
+he had taken of his interests.
+
+"I'm glad that you sent the scamp empty away, but, between you and me,
+the loss wouldn't have been a very serious one if you had given him
+what he wanted. I took all that the bag contained of value up with me
+to town, and left it there."
+
+The manager looked at him, as Mr. Paxton felt, a trifle
+scrutinisingly, as if he could not altogether make him out.
+
+"There seems to be a sort of dead set made at you. First, the
+attempted burglary last night--which is a kind of thing which has
+never before been known in the whole history of the hotel--and now
+this impudent rascal trying to make out that you had authorised him to
+receive your Gladstone bag. One might almost think that you were
+carrying something about with you which was of unique importance, and
+that the fact of your doing so had somehow become known to a
+considerable proportion of our criminal population."
+
+Mr. Paxton laughed. He had the bag carried upstairs, telling himself
+as he went that it was already more than time that his sojourn at
+Makell's Hotel should be brought to a conclusion.
+
+He ate a solitary dinner, lingering over it, though he had but a
+scanty appetite, as long as he could, in order to while away the time
+until the hour came for meeting Daisy. Towards the end of the meal,
+sick to death of his own thoughts, for sheer want of something else to
+do, he took up an evening paper, which he had brought into the room
+with him, and which was lying on a chair at his side, and began to
+glance at it. As he idly skimmed its columns, all at once a paragraph
+in the City article caught his eye. He read the words with a feeling
+of surprise; then, with increasing amazement, he read them again.
+
+"The boom in the shares of the Trumpit Gold Mine continues. On the
+strength of a report that the reef which has been struck is of
+importance, the demand for them, even at present prices, exceeded the
+supply. When our report left, buyers were offering £10--the highest
+price of the day."
+
+After subjecting the paragraph to a second reading, Mr. Paxton put the
+paper down upon his knees, and gasped for breath. It was a mistake--a
+canard--quite incredible. Trumpits selling at £10--it could not be! He
+would have been glad, quite lately, to have sold his for 10d each;
+only he was conscious that even at that price he would have found no
+buyer. £10 indeed! It was a price of which, at one time, he had
+dreamed--but it had remained a dream.
+
+He read the paragraph again. So far as the paper was concerned, there
+seemed to be no doubt about it--there it was in black and white. The
+paper was one of the highest standing, of unquestionable authority,
+not given to practical jokes--especially in the direction of
+quotations in its City article. Could the thing be true? He felt that
+something was tingling all over his body. On a sudden, his pulses had
+begun to beat like sledge-hammers. He rose from his seat, just as the
+waiter was placing still another plate in front of him, and, to the
+obvious surprise of that well-trained functionary, he marched away
+without a word. He made for the smoking-room. He knew that he should
+find the papers there. And he found them, morning and evening
+papers--even some of the papers of the day before--as many as he
+wished. He ransacked them all. Each, with one accord, told the same
+tale.
+
+The thing might be incredible, but it was true!
+
+While he was gambling in Eries, losing all, and more than all, that he
+had; while he was gambling in stolen jewels, losing all that was left
+of his honour too, a movement had been taking place in the market
+which was making his fortune for him all the time, and he had not
+noticed it. The thing seemed to him to be almost miraculous. And
+certainly it was not the least of the miracles which lately had come
+his way.
+
+Some two years before a friend had put him on--as friends do put us
+on--to a real good thing--the Trumpit Gold Mine. The friend professed
+to have special private information about this mine, and Mr. Paxton
+believed that he had. He still believed that he thought he had. Mr.
+Paxton was not a greenhorn, but he was a gambler, which now and then
+is about as bad. He looked at the thing all round--in the light of his
+friend's special information!--as far as he could, and as time would
+permit, and it seemed to him to be good enough for a plunge. The
+shares just then were at a discount--a considerable discount. From one
+point of view it was the time to buy them--and he did. He got together
+pretty well every pound he could lay his hands on, and bought ten
+thousand--bought them out and out, to hold--and went straight off and
+told Miss Strong he had made his fortune. It was only the mistake of a
+word--what he ought to have told her was that he had lost it. The
+certainly expected find of yellow ore did not come off, nor did the
+looked-for rise in the shares come off either. They continued at a
+discount, and went still lower. Purchasers could not be discovered at
+any price.
+
+It was a bitter blow. Almost, if not quite, as bitter a blow to Miss
+Strong as to himself. Indeed, Mr. Paxton had felt ever since as if
+Miss Strong had never entirely forgiven him for having made such a
+fool of her. He might--he could not help fancying that some such line
+of reasoning had occupied her attention more than once--before telling
+her of the beautiful chickens which were shortly about to be hatched,
+at least have waited till the eggs were laid.
+
+He had been too much engaged in other matters to pay attention to
+quotations for shares, which had long gone unquoted, and which he had,
+these many days, regarded as a loss past praying for. It appeared that
+rumours had come of gold in paying quantities having been found; that
+the rumours had gathered strength; that, in consequence, the shares
+had risen, until, on a sudden, the market was in a frenzy--as
+occasionally the market is apt to be--and ten pounds a-piece was being
+offered. Ten thousand at ten pounds a-piece--why, it was a hundred
+thousand pounds! A fortune in itself!
+
+By the time Mr. Paxton had attained to something like an adequate idea
+of the situation, he was half beside himself with excitement. He
+looked at his watch--it was time for meeting Daisy. He hurried into
+the hall, crammed on his hat, and strode into the street.
+
+Scarcely had he taken a dozen steps, when some one struck him a
+violent blow from behind. As he turned to face his assailant, an arm
+was thrust round his neck, and what felt like a damp cloth was forced
+against his mouth. He was borne off his feet, and, in spite of his
+struggles, was conveyed with surprising quickness into a cab which was
+drawn up against the kerb.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX
+
+                        A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE
+
+
+"It's too bad of him!"
+
+Miss Strong felt that it was much too bad! Twenty minutes after the
+appointed time, and still no signs of Mr. Paxton. The weather was, if
+anything, worse even than the night before. The mist was more
+pronounced; a chillier breeze was in the air; a disagreeable drizzle
+showed momentary symptoms of falling faster. The pier was nearly
+deserted; it was not the kind of evening to tempt pleasure-seekers
+out.
+
+Miss Strong had been at the place of meeting in front of time. After
+Mr. Paxton's departure on the previous evening, between Miss Wentworth
+and herself there had been certain passages. Bitter words had been
+said--particularly by Miss Strong. In consequence, for the first time
+on record, the friends had parted in anger. Nor had the quarrel been
+made up afterwards. On the contrary, all day long the atmosphere had
+been charged with electricity. Miss Strong was conscious that in
+certain of the things which she had said she had wronged her friend,
+as, she assured herself, her friend had wronged her lover. It is true
+two wrongs do not make a right; but Miss Strong had made up her mind
+that she would not apologise to Miss Wentworth for what she had said
+to her, until Miss Wentworth had apologised for what she had said to
+Cyril. As Miss Wentworth showed no disposition to do anything of the
+kind, the position was more than a trifle strained. So strained indeed
+that Miss Strong, after confining herself to the bedroom for most of
+the day, rushed out of the house a full hour before it was time for
+meeting Cyril, declaring to herself that anything--mist, wind, or
+rain--was better than remaining prisoned any longer under the same
+roof which sheltered an unfriendly friend. Under such circumstances,
+to her, it seemed a cardinal crime on Cyril's part that he should
+actually be twenty minutes late.
+
+"After what he said last night, about not keeping me waiting for a
+second--considering the way in which he said it--I did think that he
+would be punctual. How can he expect me to trust him in larger things,
+if he does not keep faith with me in small? If anything had happened
+to detain him, he might have let me know in time."
+
+The indignant lady did not stay to reflect that she had left home
+unnecessarily early, and that an explanation of the gentleman's
+absence might, even now, be awaiting her there. Besides, twenty
+minutes is not long. But perhaps in the case of a lovers' rendezvous,
+by some magnifying process proper to such occasions, twenty minutes
+may assume the dimensions of an hour.
+
+"I'll go once more up and down the pier, and then if he hasn't come
+I'll go straight home. How Charlie will laugh at me, and triumph, and
+say 'I told you so!' Oh, Cyril, how unkind you are, not to come when
+you promised! I don't care, but I do know this, that if Charlie
+Wentworth is not careful what she says, I will never speak to her
+again--never--as long as I live!"
+
+It seemed as if the young lady did not quite know whether to be the
+more angry with her lover or her friend. She went up the pier; then
+started to return. As she came back a man wearing a mackintosh
+advanced to her with uplifted cap and outstretched hand.
+
+"Miss Strong!"
+
+It was Mr. Lawrence. The last man whom, just then, she would have
+wished to see.
+
+Could anything have been more unfortunate? What would Cyril think if,
+again, he found them there together. She decided to get rid of the man
+without delay. But the thing was easier decided on than done.
+Especially as Mr. Lawrence immediately said something which caused her
+to postpone his dismissal longer than she had intended.
+
+"I saw Mr. Paxton this afternoon, in town."
+
+He had fallen in quite naturally by her side. She had moderated her
+pace, wishing to rid herself of him before she reached the gates.
+
+"Indeed! In the City, I suppose? He is there on business."
+
+"He wasn't in the City when I saw him. And the business on which he
+was employed was of an agreeable kind. He seemed to be making a day of
+it at the Criterion bar."
+
+"Are you not mistaken? Are you sure that it was Mr. Paxton?"
+
+"Quite sure. May I ask if he is an intimate friend of yours?"
+
+"He is--a very intimate friend indeed. I am expecting him here every
+moment."
+
+"Expecting him here! You really are!" Mr. Lawrence stopped, and
+turned, and stared, as if her words surprised him. "I beg your pardon,
+Miss Strong, but--he is stopping to-night in town."
+
+"Stopping to-night in town!" It was Miss Strong's turn to stand and
+stare. "How do you know? Did he tell you so?"
+
+"Not in so many words, but--I think you will find that he is. The--the
+fact is, Miss Strong, I heard an ugly story about Mr. Paxton, and--I
+am afraid you will find that there is something wrong."
+
+The lady grasped the handle of her umbrella with added vigour. Her
+impulse was to lay it about the speaker's head. But she refrained.
+
+"You must be too acute of hearing, Mr. Lawrence. If I were you, I
+should exchange your ears for another pair. Good evening."
+
+But she was not to escape from him so easily. He caught her by the
+arm.
+
+"Miss Strong, don't go--not for a moment. There is something which I
+particularly wish to say to you."
+
+"What there is, Mr. Lawrence, which you can particularly wish to say
+to me I am unable to conceive."
+
+"I fear that may be so, Miss Strong. But there is something, all the
+same. These are early days in which to say it; and the moment is not
+the most propitious I could have chosen. But circumstances are
+stronger than I. I have a feeling that it must be now or never. You
+know very little of me, Miss Strong. Probably you will say you know
+nothing--that I am, to all intents and purposes, a stranger. But I
+know enough of you to know that I love you: that you are to me what no
+woman has ever been before, or will ever be again. And what I
+particularly wish to say to you is to ask you to be my wife."
+
+His words were so wholly unexpected, that, for the moment, they took
+the lady's breath away. He spoke quietly, even coldly; but, in his
+coldness there was a vibrant something which was suggestive of the
+heat of passion being hidden below, while the very quietude of his
+utterance made his words more effective than if he had shouted them at
+the top of his voice. It was a second or two before the startled lady
+answered.
+
+"What you have said takes me so completely by surprise that I hardly
+know whether or not you are in earnest."
+
+"I am in earnest, I assure you. That I am mad in saying it, I am quite
+aware; how mad, even you can have no notion. But I had to say it, and
+it's said. If you would only be my wife, you would do a good deed, of
+the magnitude of which you have no conception. There is nothing in
+return which I would not do for you. On this occasion in saying so I
+do not think that I am using an empty form of words."
+
+"As you yourself pointed out, you are a stranger to me; nor have I any
+desire that you should be anything but a stranger."
+
+"Thank you, Miss Strong."
+
+"You brought it upon yourself."
+
+"I own that it is not your fault that I love you; nor can I admit that
+it is my misfortune."
+
+"There is one chief reason why your flattering proposals are unwelcome
+to me. I happen already to be a promised wife. I am engaged to Mr.
+Paxton."
+
+"Is that so? Then I am sorry for you."
+
+"Why are you sorry?"
+
+"Ere long, unless I am mistaken, you will learn that I have cause for
+sorrow, and that you have cause for sorrow too."
+
+Without another word the lady, the gentleman making no effort to
+detain her, walked away. She went straight home.
+
+She found Miss Wentworth in her favourite attitude--feet stretched on
+a chair in front of her--engaged, as Miss Strong chose to phrase it,
+in "her everlasting reading." When Miss Wentworth was not writing she
+was wont to be reading. Miss Strong occasionally wished that she would
+employ herself in more varying occupations.
+
+Momentarily oblivious of the coolness which had sprung up between her
+friend and herself, Miss Strong plumped herself down on to a chair,
+forgetful also of the fact that she had brought her umbrella with her
+into the room, and that the rain was trickling down it.
+
+"Charlie, whatever do you think has happened?"
+
+Miss Wentworth had contented herself with nodding as her friend had
+entered. Now, lowering her book, she glanced at her over the top of
+it.
+
+"I don't know what has happened, my dear, but I do know what is
+happening--your umbrella is making a fish-pond on the carpet."
+
+Miss Strong got up with something of a jump. She deposited her
+mackintosh and umbrella in the hall. When she returned her friend
+greeted her with laughter in her eyes.
+
+"Well, what has happened? But perhaps before you tell me you might
+give an eye to those elegant boots of yours. They never struck me as
+being altogether waterproof."
+
+With tightened lips Miss Strong removed her boots. It was true that
+they badly wanted changing. But that was nothing. In her present mood
+she resented having her attention diverted to unimportant details. She
+expressed herself to that effect as she undid the buttons.
+
+"I do believe that you are the hardest-natured girl I ever knew.
+You've no sense of feeling. If I were dying for want of it, I should
+never dream of coming to you for sympathy."
+
+Miss Wentworth received this tirade with complete placidity.
+
+"Quite so, my dear. Well, what has happened?"
+
+Miss Strong snuggled her feet into her slippers. She began to fidget
+about the room. Suddenly she burst out in what could only be described
+as a tone of angry petulance.
+
+"You will laugh at me--I know you will. But you had better not. I can
+tell you that I am in no mood to be laughed at. I feel as if I must
+tell it to some one, and I have no one in the world to tell things to
+but you--Mr. Lawrence has dared to make me a proposal of marriage."
+
+The complete, and one might almost say, the humorous repose of Miss
+Wentworth's manner was in striking contrast to her friend's
+excitability.
+
+"Mr. Lawrence? Isn't that the individual whom you met on the Dyke, and
+who was introduced to you by his umbrella?"
+
+"Of course it is!"
+
+"And he has proposed to you, has he? Very good of him, I'm sure. The
+sex has scored another victory. I did not know that matters had
+progressed with you so far as that! But now and then, I suppose, one
+does move quickly. I offer you my congratulations."
+
+"Charlie! You are maddening!"
+
+"Not at all. But I believe that it is a popular theory that a woman
+ought always to be congratulated on receiving a proposal from a man.
+The idea seems to be that it is the best gift which the gods can
+possibly bestow--upon a woman. And, pray, where did this gentleman so
+honour you? Right under Mr. Paxton's nose?"
+
+"Cyril wasn't there."
+
+"Not there?" Miss Strong turned her face away. Miss Wentworth eyed her
+for a moment before she spoke again. "I thought that you had an
+appointment with him, and that you went out to keep it."
+
+"He never came."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+Miss Wentworth's tone was dry. But, in spite of its dryness, it seemed
+that there was something in it which touched a secret spring which was
+hidden in her listener's breast. Suddenly Miss Strong broke into a
+flood of tears, and, running forward, fell on her knees at her
+friend's side, and pillowed her face in her lap.
+
+"Oh, Charlie, I am so unhappy--you mustn't laugh at me--I am!
+Everything seems to be going wrong--everything. I feel as if I should
+like to die!"
+
+"There is allotted to every one of us a time for death. I wouldn't
+attempt to forestall my allotment, if I were you. What is the
+particular, pressing grief?"
+
+"I am the most miserable girl in the world!"
+
+"Hush! Be easy! There are girls--myriads of them--myriads--who would
+esteem such misery as yours happiness. Tell me, what's the trouble?"
+
+In spite of the satirical touch which tinged her speech, a strain of
+curious melody had all at once come into her voice which--as if it had
+been an anæsthetic--served to ease the extreme tension of the other's
+nerves. Miss Strong looked up, the tears still streaming down her
+cheeks, but exhibiting some signs of at least elementary self-control.
+
+"Everything's the trouble! Everything seems to be going wrong; that's
+just the plain and simple truth. Cyril said he would meet me tonight,
+and promised he'd be punctual, and I waited for him, ever so long, on
+the pier, in the rain, and after all he never came. And then that
+wretched Mr. Lawrence came and made his ridiculous proposal, and--and
+said all sorts of dreadful things of Cyril!"
+
+"Said all sorts of dreadful things of Cyril, did he? As, for instance,
+what?"
+
+"He said that he was going to stop in town all night."
+
+"Well, and why shouldn't he?"
+
+"Why shouldn't he? After saying he would meet me! And promising to be
+punctual! And keeping me waiting on the pier! Without giving me any
+sort of hint that he had changed his mind! Charlie!"
+
+"Pray, how did Mr. Lawrence come to know that Mr. Paxton intended to
+spend the night in London?"
+
+"He says that he saw him there."
+
+"I did not know they were acquainted!"
+
+"I introduced them the night before last."
+
+"I see." Again Miss Wentworth's tone was significantly dry. "Mr.
+Paxton has never seemed to me to be a man whose confidence was easily
+gained, especially by a stranger. Mr. Lawrence must have progressed
+more rapidly with him even than with you. And, pray, what else was Mr.
+Lawrence pleased to say of Mr. Paxton?"
+
+"Oh, a lot of lies! Of course I knew that they were a lot of lies, but
+they made me so wild that I felt that I should like to shake him."
+
+"Shake me instead, my dear. One is given to understand that jolting is
+good for the liver. Who's that?"
+
+There was a sound of knocking at the front door. Miss Strong glanced
+eagerly round. A flush came into her cheeks; a light into her eyes.
+
+"Possibly that is the recalcitrant Mr. Paxton, in his own proper
+person, coming with apologies in both his hands. Perhaps you would
+like to go and see."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER X
+
+                            CYRIL'S FRIEND
+
+
+Miss Strong did like to go and see. She looked at Miss Wentworth with
+a make-believe of anger, and, rising to her feet, went quickly across
+the room. Admission had already been given to the knocker. There
+advanced towards the girl standing in the open door a man--who was not
+Mr. Paxton.
+
+"Mr. Franklyn! I thought----"
+
+There was a note of disappointment in her voice. She stopped short, as
+if desirous not to allow her self-betrayal to go too far. She moved a
+little back, so as to allow the newcomer to enter the room.
+
+This newcomer was a man of the medium height, about forty years of
+age. His black hair was already streaked with grey. He had a firm,
+clear-cut, clean-shaven mouth and chin, and a pair of penetrating
+grey-black eyes, with which he had a trick of looking every one whom
+he addressed squarely in the face. His manner, ordinarily, was grave
+and deliberate, as if he liked to weigh each word he uttered. He held
+Miss Strong's hand for a moment in his cool, close grasp.
+
+"Well; you thought what?"
+
+"I'm very glad to see you--you know I am; but I thought it was Cyril."
+
+"Are you expecting him?"
+
+"I was expecting him, but--it seems he hasn't come."
+
+Turning to Miss Wentworth he greeted her. And it was to be noted that
+as she offered him her hand a humorous twinkle beamed through her
+glasses, and her whole face was lighted by a smile. He turned again to
+Miss Strong.
+
+"Have you heard the news?"
+
+"What news?"
+
+"Hasn't Cyril told you?"
+
+"He told me something last night, but I really couldn't tell you quite
+what it was he told me, and I haven't seen him since."
+
+"He is in Brighton?"
+
+"Is he? I was informed that he was stopping in town."
+
+"You were informed? By whom?"
+
+"By an acquaintance, who said that he saw him there."
+
+Mr. Franklyn waited before speaking again. His unflinching eyes seemed
+to be studying the lady's face. Probably he saw that there was
+something unusual in her manner.
+
+"That is strange. I was under the impression that he was in Brighton.
+I have come from town specially to see him. I expected to find him
+with you here."
+
+"He did promise to meet me to-night. He hasn't kept his promise. I
+don't understand why. To be plain with you, it rather troubles me.
+
+"He promised to meet you?"
+
+"He did most faithfully."
+
+"And you have received no intimation from him to the effect that he
+was not coming?"
+
+"Not a word--not a line!"
+
+"Then he may be here at any moment. Something has unexpectedly delayed
+him. You are acquainted with him sufficiently well to be aware that
+had anything occurred to cause him to alter his plans, he would
+immediately have let you know. Your informant was wrong. I have had
+inquiries made for him everywhere in town, and as a result have good
+reason to believe that he is in Brighton."
+
+"What is the news of which you were speaking?"
+
+"Has Cyril said nothing to you about the Trumpit Gold Mine?"
+
+"He referred to it casually the night before last in his usual strain,
+as having been the cause of his destruction."
+
+"That really is extraordinary. I confess I do not understand it. It is
+so unlike Cyril to have communicated neither with you nor with me. Are
+you sure that he said nothing more?"
+
+"About the Trumpit Gold Mine? Not a word. What was there, what is
+there to say? Do get it out!"
+
+The young lady made an impatient movement with her foot. The gentleman
+looked at her with amusement in his eyes. She was very well worth
+looking at just then. Her hair was a little out of order; and, though
+she might not have agreed with such a statement, it suited her when it
+was slightly disarranged. Her cheeks were flushed. She held herself
+very straight. Perhaps it was her tears which had lent brightness to
+her eyes; they were bright. Her small, white teeth sparkled between
+her blush-rose lips, which were slightly parted as if in repressed
+excitement. She presented a pretty picture of a young lady who was in
+no mood for trifling.
+
+"I shall have much pleasure, Miss Strong, in getting it out. What seem
+to be well-founded rumours have reached England that gold has been
+found at last in considerable quantities. The shares have gone up with
+a rush. When the Stock Exchange closed this afternoon they were
+quoted at £12 10s. A little more than a week ago they were unsaleable
+at twopence each."
+
+"£12 10s.! oh, Mr. Franklyn! And has Cyril got rid of his?"
+
+"Not a bit of it. They are in my strongbox. There are ten thousand of
+them--Cyril is one of the largest holders, if he is not the largest;
+and what that means at £12 10s. apiece you can calculate as well as
+I."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Franklyn!" The young lady brought her hands together with a
+little clap. She turned in natural triumph towards her friend. "What
+did I tell you? Now aren't you sorry for what you said last night?
+Didn't I say that you hadn't the faintest notion of what you were
+talking about?"
+
+Miss Wentworth, though, as was to be expected, not so excited as the
+lady who was principally concerned, evinced sufficiently lively signs
+of interest.
+
+"You certainly did, and I certainly hadn't; and while you left nothing
+unsaid which you ought to have said, there can be no sort of doubt
+whatever that I said everything which I ought to have left unsaid.
+But, at the same time, I do beg leave to remark that Mr. Paxton need
+not have worn such an air of mystery."
+
+"Why?" Miss Strong tapped the toe of her slipper against the floor.
+"He wasn't compelled to blurt out his affairs to all the world."
+
+Miss Wentworth shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"Certainly not--if I am all the world. Are you also all the world?
+From what I gathered he did not make much of a confidante of you."
+
+"Well, he wasn't forced to!" Suddenly Miss Strong made a wholly
+irrational, but not wholly unnatural, movement in the direction of
+Miss Wentworth's chair. She placed her hand upon that lady's
+shoulders. And she kissed her twice, first on the lips, then on the
+brow. And she exclaimed, "Never mind. I forgive you!"
+
+Miss Wentworth was quite as demure as the occasion required. She
+surveyed her emotional friend with twinkling eyes.
+
+"Thank you very much indeed, my dear."
+
+Miss Strong moved restlessly about the room, passing, as it seemed,
+aimlessly from object to object.
+
+"It is strange that he should have kept such news to himself! And not
+have said a word about it! And now not coming after all!" She turned
+to Mr. Franklyn. "I suppose that it is all quite true? That you have
+not been building up my hopes simply to dash them down again?"
+
+"I have given you an accurate statement of the actual position of
+affairs when prices were made up for the day, as you may easily prove
+yourself by a reference to an evening paper."
+
+With her hands Miss Strong pushed back her hair from her temples.
+
+"After all he had lost in Eries----"
+
+Mr. Franklyn interposed a question.
+
+"In Eries! Did he lose in Eries?"
+
+"I am afraid he did, heavily. And then, in spite of that, on the same
+day, to see his way to a quarter of a million!"
+
+"A quarter of a million! Did he mention that precise amount?"
+
+"I think he did,--I feel sure he did. Charlie, didn't you hear him
+speak of a quarter of a million?"
+
+Miss Wentworth, who from the depths of her easy chair had been
+regarding the two almost as if they had been studies of interesting,
+though contrasting, types of human nature, smiled as she replied--
+
+"I believe that I did hear Mr. Paxton make a passing and, as it seemed
+to me, a mysterious allusion to that insignificant sum."
+
+"Then he must be acquainted with the movements of the markets." Mr.
+Franklyn was the speaker. "Though I must tell you candidly, Miss
+Strong, that at present I am very far from being prepared to advise
+him to hold until his profits reach what Miss Wentworth, in a truly
+liberal spirit, calls that insignificant sum. As things stand, he can
+get out with half of it. If he waits for more, he may get nothing.
+Indeed, it is an almost vital necessity of the situation that I should
+see him at once. The shares are in my keeping. Without his direct
+authority I can do nothing with them. After all, the boom may be but a
+bubble; it may already have been blown to a bursting-point; in the
+morning it may have been pricked. Such things are the commonplaces of
+the Stock Exchange. In any case, it is absolutely necessary that he
+should be on the spot, ready, if needful, to take prompt, instant
+advantage of the turn of the market in whatever direction it may be.
+Or, by the time that he does appear upon the scene, his shares may
+again be unsaleable at twopence apiece, and all his profits may have
+gone. Now, tell me, do you know where he stayed last night?"
+
+"At Makell's Hotel. He nearly always does stay there when he is in
+Brighton."
+
+"It is possible, then, that he is there now; or, at any rate, that
+they have news of him. I will go at once and inquire."
+
+Miss Strong made a quick movement towards the speaker.
+
+"Mr. Franklyn, mayn't I come with you?"
+
+He hesitated.
+
+"There is not the slightest necessity. If he is there I will bring him
+back with me; if he is not I will either bring or send you news."
+
+"You promise?"
+
+"I do--certainly."
+
+"You promise that you will let me hear as soon as you can--at
+once--without a moment's delay?" The girl put her hand to her side.
+Tears came into her eyes. "Mr. Franklyn, you don't know what all this
+means to me. All day long I have been conscious of something hanging
+over me, as it were, a cloud of catastrophe. That something very
+strange either has happened, or shortly will happen, I am convinced.
+It frightens me! So, if you wish to do me a kindness, you will not
+keep me in suspense one moment longer than you can help."
+
+Miss Strong had passed, so far as appearances went, instantly, without
+any sort of warning, from a white heat of excitement to almost
+preternatural coldness. One had only to look at her to perceive that
+her mind was not at ease; nor, since mental and physical conditions
+are closely allied, her body either. Mr. Franklyn proffered
+reassurance.
+
+"Believe me, Miss Strong, there is not the slightest real cause for
+anxiety. The probability is that Cyril is looking for me, just as I am
+looking for him; that, in fact, we are chasing each other. Anyhow, you
+shall have news when I have news, and that without a second's delay. I
+ought to find a cab upon the nearest stand. If I do, you ought to hear
+from me in thirty minutes. But even if I don't, I think that I can
+promise that you shall hear from me within the hour."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI
+
+                        JOHN IRELAND'S WARRANT
+
+
+Mr. Franklyn was unable to find a cab. He walked. And as he walked he
+wondered. Mr. Paxton's conduct seemed to him to be stranger than, in
+the presence of Miss Strong, he had cared to admit. It was unlike
+Cyril to have allowed so amazing a change to have taken place in a
+holding in which he was so largely interested, and yet to have held
+his peace. Mr. Franklyn had made more considerable efforts to place
+himself in communication with Cyril than he had hinted at. There had
+been several things lately in that gentleman's conduct which had
+struck him as peculiar. But all his efforts had been vain. It was only
+by chance that that afternoon he had run across an acquaintance who
+informed him that he had just seen Mr. Paxton leaving Victoria in a
+Brighton train. Taking it for granted that he was journeying towards
+Miss Strong, as soon as he could, Franklyn followed on his heels.
+
+And now Miss Strong had seen nothing of him! Indeed, she had been told
+that he intended to spend the night in town. Coupled with other
+circumstances, to Mr. Franklyn the thing seemed distinctly odd.
+
+Arrived at Makell's Hotel, he accosted the porter who held the door
+open for him to enter.
+
+"Is Mr. Paxton staying here?"
+
+"Mr. Paxton is out."
+
+"Out? Then he is staying here?"
+
+"He has been here. I don't know if he is returning. You had better
+inquire at the office."
+
+Mr. Franklyn inquired. At the office their acquaintance with Mr.
+Paxton's movements did not appear to be much greater than the
+porter's. He was out. He might return. He probably would. When, they
+could not say.
+
+"How long ago is it since he went out?"
+
+"Something over an hour."
+
+"Did he say anything about where he was going to?"
+
+"Not to me. I know nothing, it's only what I surmise, but he went
+hurrying out as if he had an appointment which he wanted to keep."
+
+"An appointment? Something over an hour ago? Yes, he had an
+appointment about that time, but he never kept it." Franklyn looked at
+his watch. The thirty minutes of which he had spoken to Miss Strong
+were already nearly past. "Can I have a bed here to-night?"
+
+The clerk said that he could. Franklyn took a card out of his
+pocket-book. He scribbled on it in pencil--
+
+"I shall be at Medina Villas till eleven. Come at once. They are very
+anxious to have news of you."
+
+Securing it in an envelope, he handed it to the clerk, instructing
+him, should Mr. Paxton return before he did, to let him have it at
+once. Then Mr. Franklyn left the hotel, meaning to walk to the cab
+rank, which was distant only a few yards, and then drive straight back
+to Medina Villas.
+
+As he walked along the broad pavement some one stopping him, addressed
+him by name.
+
+"Is that you, Mr. Franklyn?"
+
+The speaker was John Ireland. In his professional capacity as a
+solicitor Mr. Franklyn had encountered the detective on more than one
+occasion. The detective's next question took Mr. Franklyn a little by
+surprise.
+
+"Where's Mr. Paxton?"
+
+Mr. Franklyn looked at his questioner as attentively as the imperfect
+light would permit. To his trained ear there was something in the
+inquirer's tone which was peculiar.
+
+"Mr. Paxton! Why do you ask?"
+
+Ireland seemed to hesitate. Then blurted out bluntly--
+
+"Because I've a warrant for his arrest."
+
+Franklyn made a startled movement backwards.
+
+"His arrest! Ireland, you're dreaming!"
+
+"Am I? I'm not of a dreaming sort, as you ought to know by now. Look
+here, Mr. Franklyn, you and I know each other. I know you're Mr.
+Paxton's friend, but if you'll take my advice, you won't, for his
+sake, try to give him a lead away from us. You've just come out of
+Makell's Hotel. Is he there?"
+
+Mr. Franklyn answered, without pausing a moment for reflection.
+
+"He is not there. Nor did they seem to be able to tell me where he is.
+I'm quite as anxious to see him as you are."
+
+Ireland slapped his hand against his legs.
+
+"Then I'll be hanged if I don't believe that he's given us the slip.
+It'll almost serve me right if he has. I ought to have had him without
+waiting for a warrant, but the responsibility was a bit bigger one
+than I cared to take. And now some of those pretty friends of his have
+given him the word, and he's away. If he's clean away, and all because
+I shirked, I shall almost feel like doing time myself."
+
+When he spoke again Franklyn's manner was caustic.
+
+"Since, Ireland, you appear to wish me to be a little unprofessional,
+perhaps you also won't mind being a little unprofessional, by way of a
+_quid pro quo_. Might I ask you to tell me what is the offence which
+is specified on the warrant which you say you hold?"
+
+"I don't mind telling you, not the least. In the morning you'll see it
+for yourself in all the papers--as large as life and twice as natural.
+Mr. Paxton is wanted for the robbery of the Duchess of Datchet's
+diamonds."
+
+If the other had struck him Mr. Franklyn could scarcely have seemed
+more startled.
+
+"The Duchess of Datchet's diamonds! Ireland, are you mad or drunk?"
+
+"Both, if you like. It's as you choose, Mr. Franklyn."
+
+Franklyn eyed the detective as if he really thought that he might be
+mentally deranged.
+
+"Seriously, Ireland, you don't mean to say that Mr. Paxton--Mr. Cyril
+Paxton--the Cyril Paxton whom I know--is charged with complicity in
+the affair of the robbery of the Duchess of Datchet's diamonds?"
+
+"You have hit it, Mr. Franklyn, to a T."
+
+Regardless of the falling drizzle, Mr. Franklyn took off his hat, as
+if to allow the air a chance to clear his brain.
+
+"But--the thing is too preposterous!--altogether too outrageous for
+credibility! You yourself must be aware that in the case of a man in
+Paxton's position, such a step as that which you propose to take is
+likely to be fraught, for yourself, with the very gravest
+consequences. And I, on my part, can assure you that you are on the
+verge of making another of those blunders for which you police are
+famous. Who is the author of this incredibly monstrous charge?"
+
+"Don't you trouble yourself about that, Mr. Franklyn. People who bring
+monstrous charges will have to bear the brunt of them. But I tell you
+what I'll do. You talk about being unprofessional. I'm willing to be a
+bit more unprofessional for the sake of a little flutter. I'll bet you
+any reasonable sum you like, at evens, that when we do have him it's
+proved that at any rate Mr. Paxton knows where the duchess's diamonds
+are."
+
+"You talk utter nonsense."
+
+"All right, put it so. Anyhow, I'm willing to back my talk. And I'm
+giving you a chance to back yours."
+
+"Let me understand you. Do you say that you are willing to back your
+ability to prove that Mr. Paxton has a guilty knowledge of the Datchet
+diamonds?"
+
+"A guilty knowledge--that's it; you keep on hitting it, and you've hit
+it again. I'm ready to lay an even hundred pounds--we may as well have
+something on worth having--that when we do get Mr. Paxton it's proved
+that he has, as you put it, a guilty knowledge of the whereabouts of
+the Datchet diamonds."
+
+"Such a supposition is wholly beyond the bounds of reason."
+
+"Will you bet?"
+
+"I will."
+
+"You understand that I'm betting on a certainty; but since you seem to
+think that you're betting on a certainty too the thing's about even.
+It's a bet?"
+
+"It is."
+
+"Good! Perhaps you'll make a note of it. I'll make one too." As a
+matter of fact, Mr. Ireland, taking out his pocket-book, made a note
+of it upon the spot. "When I've proved my point I'll ask you for that
+hundred."
+
+"Say, rather, that when you've failed to prove it, I'll ask you."
+
+"All right. And you shall have it, never you fear." Mr. Ireland
+replaced his pocketbook. "Now I'm going to Makell's to make a few
+inquiries on my own account. If those inquiries are not satisfactory,
+I'll at once wire round Mr. Paxton's description. There'll be a reward
+offered for him in the morning, and if we don't have him within
+four-and-twenty hours, I'm a Dutchman."
+
+Franklyn, knowing his man, was more moved by Ireland's words than he
+cared to show.
+
+"For goodness' sake, Ireland, be careful what you do. As you say, you
+know me, and you know that it is not my custom to express an opinion
+rashly. I assure you that it is my solemn conviction that if you take
+the steps which you speak of taking, you will be doing a possibly
+irreparable injury to a perfectly innocent man."
+
+The detective looked at the lawyer steadily for a second or two.
+
+"Quite right, Mr. Franklyn, I do know you, and it is because I know
+you that I am willing to strain a point, and, without prejudice to
+that little bet of ours, give you proof that in matters of this sort a
+man of my experience is not likely to move without good grounds. You
+see this?"
+
+Mr. Ireland took something out of his waistcoat pocket. It was a ring.
+Slipping it on to the tip of his little finger, he held it up for the
+other to see.
+
+"I see that it's a ring. What of it?"
+
+"As Mr. Paxton was coming out of Makell's Hotel this morning he took
+his handkerchief out of his pocket. As he did so, unnoticed by him,
+something dropped out of his handkerchief on to the pavement. It was
+this ring."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Ill, I should call it, if I were you, because this ring happens to be
+one of those which were stolen from the Duchess of Datchet. I had
+previously had reasons of my own for suspecting that he knew more than
+was good for him of that business; even you will grant that the
+discovery in his possession of one of the stolen articles was
+sufficient to turn suspicion into practical certainty."
+
+Mr. Franklyn said nothing, perhaps because he had nothing to say which
+he felt was equal to the occasion. What Mr. Ireland said astounded
+him. He perceived that, at any rate in Mr. Paxton's absence, the
+position presented the appearance of an aggravating puzzle. That Mr.
+Paxton could, if he chose, furnish a satisfactory solution, he did not
+doubt. But he wondered what it was.
+
+The detective went on.
+
+"Now, Mr. Franklyn, since I have been, as you yourself would say,
+unprofessionally open with you, I must ask you, on your side, to be
+equally open with me. What are you going to do?"
+
+Franklyn reflected before replying.
+
+"I fail to see how you are entitled to ask me such a question; unless
+you suspect me also of being an accomplice in the crime. At any rate I
+decline to answer."
+
+"Very well, Mr. Franklyn, I am sorry, but I must do my duty. I have
+reason to suspect that you may intend to aid and abet Mr. Paxton in
+effecting his escape. To prevent your doing so is my obvious duty.
+Hollier!"
+
+Mr. Ireland beckoned to a man who had hitherto been loitering under
+the shadow of the houses. Mr. Franklyn might or might not have noticed
+it, but during their conversation two or three other men had been
+hanging about within hailing distance in apparently similar
+purposeless fashion. The individual who had been signalled to
+approached.
+
+"Mr. Franklyn, this is George Hollier, an officer of police. Hollier,
+this gentleman's name is Franklyn. He's a friend of Mr. Paxton. I
+think it's just possible that he will, if he can, give Mr. Paxton a
+helping hand to get away. I order you to follow him, to observe his
+movements as closely as you may, and if he does anything which in your
+judgment looks like an attempt to place himself in communication with
+Mr. Paxton, to arrest him on the spot. You understand?"
+
+The man nodded. Mr. Franklyn said nothing. He called a cab from the
+rank in front of them. As the vehicle drew up beside them Mr. Ireland
+addressed the man upon the box.
+
+"Cabman, what's your number?"
+
+The cabman gave question for question.
+
+"What do you want to know for?"
+
+"I'm an officer of police. This gentleman wishes you to drive him
+somewhere. It is possible that I may require you to tell me where. You
+won't lose by it; you needn't be afraid."
+
+The driver gave his number. The detective noted it, as he had done his
+bet. He called a second cab, again addressing its Jehu.
+
+"Cabman, this man is an officer of police. He's going to ride beside
+you on the box, and he wants you to keep the cab in which this
+gentleman is going to be a passenger well in sight. He'll see that you
+are properly paid for your trouble."
+
+As Mr. Franklyn drove off he was almost tickled by the thought that
+he, a lawyer of blameless reputation, and of the highest standing, was
+being followed about the streets of Brighton by a policeman as if he
+had been a criminal.
+
+But all disposition towards amusement was banished by the further
+instant reflection that he had promised Miss Strong to bring her news
+of her lover. And he was bringing her news--of what a character!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XII
+
+                            A WOMAN ROUSED
+
+
+Almost as soon as Mr. Franklyn touched the knocker of the house in
+Medina Villas, the door was opened from within, and he found himself
+confronted by Miss Strong.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Franklyn, is it you at last?" She saw that some one was
+standing at Mr. Franklyn's back. "Cyril!" she cried. Then, perceiving
+her mistake, drew back. "I beg your pardon, I thought it was Mr.
+Paxton."
+
+The man in the rear advanced.
+
+"Is Mr. Paxton here?" He turned to Mr. Franklyn. "Unless you want
+trouble, if he is here, you had better tell me."
+
+Mr. Franklyn answered.
+
+"Mr. Paxton is not here. If you like you may go in and look for
+yourself; but if you are a wise man you will take my assurance as
+sufficient."
+
+Mr. Hollier looked at Mr. Franklyn, then at Miss Strong, then decided.
+
+"Very well, sir. I don't wish to make myself more disagreeable than I
+can help. I'll take your word."
+
+Directly he was in the hall and the door was closed Miss Strong caught
+Mr. Franklyn by the arm. He could feel that she was trembling, as she
+whispered, almost in his ear--
+
+"Mr. Franklyn, what does that man want with Cyril?"
+
+He drew her with him into the sitting-room. Conscious that he was
+about to play a principal part in a very delicate situation, he
+desired to take advantage of still another moment or two to enable him
+to collect his thoughts. Miss Wentworth, having relinquished her
+reading, was sitting up in her armchair, awaiting his arrival with an
+air of evident expectancy. He looked at Miss Strong. Her hand was
+pressed against her side; her head was thrown a little back; you could
+see the muscles working in her beautiful, rounded throat almost as
+plainly as you may see them working in the throat of a bird. For the
+moment Mr. Franklyn was inclined to wish that Cyril Paxton had never
+been his friend. He was not a man who was easily unnerved, but as he
+saw the something which was in the young girl's face, he found
+himself, for almost the first time in his life, at a loss for words.
+
+Miss Strong had to put her question a second time.
+
+"Mr. Franklyn, what does that man want with Cyril?"
+
+When he did speak the lawyer found, somewhat to his surprise, that his
+throat seemed dry, and that his voice was husky.
+
+"Strictly speaking, I cannot say that the man wants Cyril at all. What
+he does want is to know if I am in communication with him."
+
+"Why should he want to know that?" While he was seeking words, Miss
+Strong followed with another question. "But, tell me, have you seen
+Cyril?"
+
+"I have not. Though it seems he is in Brighton, or, rather, he was two
+hours ago."
+
+"Two hours ago? Then where is he now?"
+
+"That at present I cannot tell you. He left his hotel two hours ago,
+as was thought, to keep an appointment; it would almost seem as if he
+had been starting to keep the appointment which he had with you."
+
+"Two hours ago? Yes. I was waiting for him then. But he never came.
+Why didn't he? You know why he didn't. Tell me!"
+
+"The whole affair seems to be rather an odd one, though in all
+probability it amounts to nothing more than a case of cross-questions
+and crooked answers. What I have learnt is little enough. If you will
+sit down I will tell you all there is to tell."
+
+Mr. Franklyn advanced a chair towards Miss Strong with studied
+carelessness. She spurned the proffered support with something more
+than contempt.
+
+"I won't sit down. How can I sit down when you have something to tell
+me? I can always listen best when I am standing."
+
+Putting his hands behind his back, Mr. Franklyn assumed what he
+possibly intended to be an air of parental authority.
+
+"See here, Miss Strong. You can, if you choose, be as sensible a young
+woman as I should care to see. If you so choose now, well and good.
+But I tell you plainly that on your showing the slightest symptom of
+hysterics my lips will be closed, and you will not get another word
+out of me."
+
+If by his attempting to play the part of heavy father he had supposed
+that Miss Strong would immediately be brought into a state of
+subjection, he had seldom made a greater error. So far from having
+cowed her, he seemed to have fired all the blood in her veins. She
+drew herself up until she had increased her stature by at least an
+inch, and she addressed the man of law in a strain in which he
+probably had never been addressed before.
+
+"How dare you dictate how I am to receive any scraps of information
+which you may condescend to dole out to me! You forget yourself. Cyril
+is to be my husband; you pretend to be his friend. If it is anything
+but pretence, and you are a gentlemen, and a man of honour, you will
+see that it is your duty to withhold no tidings of my promised husband
+from his future wife. How I choose to receive those tidings is my
+affair, not yours."
+
+Certainly the lady's slightly illogical indignation made her look
+supremely lovely. Mr. Franklyn recognised this fact with a sensation
+which was both novel and curious. Even in that moment of perturbation,
+he told himself that it would never be his fate to have such a
+beautiful creature breathing burning words for love of him. While he
+wondered what to answer, Miss Wentworth interposed, rising from her
+chair to do so.
+
+"Daisy is quite right, Mr. Franklyn. Don't play the game which the cat
+plays with the mouse by making lumbering attempts to, what is called,
+break it gently. If you have bad news, tell it out like a man! You
+will find that the feminine is not necessarily far behind the
+masculine animal in fibre."
+
+Mr. Franklyn looked from one young woman to the other, and felt
+himself ill-used. He had known them both for quite a tale of years;
+and yet he felt, somehow, as if he were becoming really acquainted
+with them for the first time now.
+
+"You misjudge me, Miss Strong, and you, Miss Wentworth, too. The
+difficulty which I feel is how to tell you, as we lawyers say, without
+prejudice, exactly what there is to tell. As I said, the situation is
+such an odd one. I must begin by asking you a question. Has either of
+you heard of the affair of the robbery of the Duchess of Datchet's
+diamonds?"
+
+"The affair of the robbery of the Duchess of Datchet's diamonds?"
+
+Miss Strong repeated his words, passing her hand over her eyes, as if
+she did not understand. Miss Wentworth, however, made it quickly plain
+that she did.
+
+"I have; and so of course has Daisy. What of it?"
+
+"This. An addle-headed detective, named John Ireland, has got hold of
+a wild idea that Cyril knows something about it."
+
+Miss Wentworth gave utterance to what sounded like a half-stifled
+exclamation.
+
+"I guessed as much! What an extraordinary thing! I had been reading
+about it just before Mr. Paxton came in last night, and when he began
+talking in a mysterious way about his having made a quarter of a
+million at a single coup--precisely the amount at which the diamonds
+were valued--it set me thinking. I suppose I was a fool."
+
+For Miss Wentworth's quickness in guessing his meaning Mr. Franklyn
+had been unprepared. If she, inspired solely by the evidence of her
+own intuitions, had suspected Mr. Paxton, what sort of a case might
+not Mr. Ireland have against him? But Miss Strong's sense of
+perception was, apparently, not so keen. She looked at her companions
+as a person might look who is groping for the key of a riddle.
+
+"I daresay I am stupid. I did read something about some diamonds being
+stolen. But--what has that to do with Cyril?"
+
+Mr. Franklyn glanced at Miss Wentworth as if he thought that she might
+answer. But she refrained. He had to speak.
+
+"In all probability the whole affair is a blunder of Ireland's."
+
+"Ireland? Who is Ireland?"
+
+"John Ireland is a Scotland Yard detective, and, like all such gentry,
+quick to jump at erroneous conclusions."
+
+They saw that Miss Strong made a little convulsive movement with her
+hands. She clenched her fists. She spoke in a low, clear, even tone of
+voice.
+
+"I see. And does John Ireland think that Cyril Paxton stole the
+Datchet diamonds?"
+
+"I fancy that he hardly goes as far as that. From what I was able to
+gather, he merely suspects him of being acquainted with their present
+whereabouts."
+
+Although Miss Strong did not raise her voice, it rang with scorn.
+
+"I see. He merely suspects him of that. What self-restraint he shows!
+And is that John Ireland on the doorstep?"
+
+"That is a man named Hollier, whom John Ireland was good enough to
+commission to keep an eye on me."
+
+"Why on you? Does he suspect you also?"
+
+Mr. Franklyn shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"He knows that I am Cyril's friend."
+
+"And all Cyril's friends are to be watched and spied upon? I see. And
+is Cyril arrested? Is he in prison? Is that the meaning of his
+absence?"
+
+"Not a bit of it. He seems, temporarily, to have disappeared."
+
+"And when he reappears I suppose John Ireland will arrest him?"
+
+"Candidly, Miss Strong, I fear he will."
+
+"There is something else you fear. And which you fear too!"
+
+Miss Strong swung round towards Miss Wentworth with an imperious
+gesture. Her rage, despite it being tinged with melodrama, was in its
+way sublime. The young lady's astonishing intensity so carried away
+her hearers that they probably omitted to notice that there was any
+connection between her words and manner and the words and manner of,
+say, the transpontine drama.
+
+"You fear, both of you, that what John Ireland suspects is true. You
+feel that Cyril Paxton, the man I love, who would not suffer himself
+to come into contact with dishonour, whose shoestrings you are neither
+of you worthy to unloose--you fear that he may have soiled his hands
+with sordid crime. I see your fear branded on your faces--looking from
+your eyes. You cravens! You cowards! You unutterable things! To dare
+so to prejudge a man who, as yet, has had no opportunity to know even
+what it is with which you charge him!"
+
+Suddenly Miss Strong devoted her particular attention to Miss
+Wentworth. She pointed her words with a force and a directness which
+ensured their striking home.
+
+"As for you, now I know what it was you meant last night; what it was
+which in your heart you accused him of, but which your tongue did not
+dare to quite bring itself to utter. And you have pretended to be my
+friend, and yet you are so swift to seek to kill that which you know
+is dearer than life to the man whom I love and hold in honour. Since
+your friendship is plainly more dangerous than your enmity, in the
+future we'll be enemies, openly, avowedly, for never again I'll call
+you friend of mine!"
+
+Miss Wentworth moved forward, exclaiming--
+
+"Daisy!"
+
+But Miss Strong moved back.
+
+"Don't speak to me! Don't come near to me! If you touch me, woman
+though I am, and woman though you are, I will strike you!"
+
+Since Miss Strong seemed to mean exactly what she said, Miss
+Wentworth, deeming, under certain given circumstances, discretion to
+be the better part of valour, held her peace. Miss Strong, having
+annihilated Miss Wentworth, one could but hope to her entire
+satisfaction, redirected her attention to the gentleman.
+
+"And you pretended to be Cyril's friend! Heaven indeed preserve us
+from our friends, it is they who strike the bitterest blows! This only
+I will say to you. You have the courage of your opinions when there's
+no courage wanted, but were Cyril Paxton this moment to enter the room
+you would no more dare to hint to him what you have dared to hint to
+me, than you would dare to fly."
+
+Then, recollecting herself, with exquisite sarcasm Miss Strong
+apologised for having confused her meaning.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Mr. Franklyn, a thousand times. I said exactly the
+contrary of what I wished to say. Of course, if Cyril did enter the
+room, there is only one thing which you would dare to do, dare to fly.
+I leave you alone together, in the complete assurance that I am
+leaving you to enjoy the perfect communion of two equal minds."
+
+Miss Strong moved towards the door. Mr. Franklyn interposed.
+
+"One moment, Miss Strong. Where are you going?"
+
+"To look for Cyril. Do you object? I will try to induce him not to
+hurt you, when I find him."
+
+"You understand that you will have to endure the ignominy of having
+the man outside following you wherever you may go."
+
+"Ignominy, you call it! Why, the man may actually be to me as a
+protection from my friends."
+
+"You use hard words. I enter into your feelings sufficiently to
+understand that, from your own point of view, they may not seem to be
+unjustified. But at the same time I am sufficiently your friend, and
+Cyril's friend, to decline to allow you, if I can help it, to throw
+dust in your own eyes. That Cyril has been guilty of actual theft, I
+do not for a moment believe. That he may have perpetrated some
+egregious blunder, I fear is possible. I know him probably as well as
+you do. I know John Ireland too, and I am persuaded that he would not
+bring a charge of this kind without having good grounds to go upon.
+Indeed, I may tell you plainly--slurring over the truth will do no
+good to any one--Cyril is known to have been in actual possession of
+one of the missing jewels."
+
+"I don't believe it."
+
+"Best assured you will do good neither to Cyril's cause nor to your
+own by a refusal to give credence to actual facts. It is only facts
+which a judge and jury can be induced to act upon. Satisfactorily
+explain them if you can, but do not suppose that you will be able to
+impress other people with the merits of your cause by declining to
+believe in their existence. I do entreat you to be advised by me
+before, by some rash, if well-meaning act, you do incalculable
+mischief to Cyril and yourself."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Franklyn, but one does not always wish to be advised
+even by one's legal adviser. Just now I should be obliged by your
+confining yourself to answering questions. Perhaps you will be so good
+as to tell me where I am most likely to find John Ireland, that
+immaculate policeman?"
+
+"When I left him he was just going to Makell's Hotel to make inquiries
+as to Cyril's whereabouts upon his own account."
+
+"Then I will go to Makell's Hotel to make inquiries of John Ireland
+upon my account."
+
+"In that case you must excuse me if I come with you. I warn you again,
+that if you are not careful you may do Cyril more mischief than you
+have any notion of."
+
+"I shall come too."
+
+This was Miss Wentworth. Miss Strong bowed.
+
+"If you will, you will. Evidently the man on the doorstep is not
+likely to serve me as an adequate protection against my friends."
+
+Miss Strong put on her hat and mackintosh in what was probably one of
+the shortest times on record. Miss Wentworth generally dressed more
+quickly than her friend; on such an occasion she was not likely to be
+left behind. The curious procession of three passed through the door
+and down the steps in Indian file, Miss Strong first, Mr. Franklyn
+last.
+
+At the bottom of the steps stood Mr. Hollier. The leader looked him up
+and down.
+
+"Is your name Hollier?"
+
+The man touched his hat.
+
+"That's my name, miss."
+
+"I am Daisy Strong, Mr. Cyril Paxton's promised wife." She seemed on a
+sudden to be fond of advertising the fact. "I am going to look for Mr.
+Paxton now. You may, if you choose, play the part of spy, and follow
+me; but let me tell you that if he comes to harm through you, or
+through any of your associates, there'll be trouble."
+
+"I see, miss."
+
+Mr. Hollier grinned, hurting, as it seemed, the lady's sense of
+dignity.
+
+"I don't know what you see to smile at. A woman has given a man
+sufficient cause for tears before to-day. You may find, in your own
+case, that she will again."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII
+
+                      THE DETECTIVE AND THE LADY
+
+
+Mr. Ireland marched into Makell's Hotel as if he owned the building.
+He created a sensation in the office.
+
+"You know me?"
+
+The clerk, who was a good-looking young gentleman, with a curled
+moustache, eyed the speaker with somewhat supercilious curiosity. Mr.
+Ireland's manner was more suggestive of his importance than was his
+appearance. The clerk decided that he did not know him. He owned as
+much.
+
+"I'm Inspector Ireland, of the Criminal Investigation Department. I
+hold a warrant for the arrest of Cyril Paxton. He is stopping in your
+hotel. I don't want to cause any more trouble than necessary--my
+assistants are outside--so, perhaps, you will tell me whereabouts in
+the house I am likely to find him."
+
+The clerk looked the surprise which he felt.
+
+"Mr. Paxton is out."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"I will make inquiries if you wish it. But I know that he is out. I
+saw him go, and, as I have not left the office since he went, if he
+had returned I could not have helped seeing him."
+
+"Has he any property here?"
+
+"I will speak to the manager."
+
+The clerk turned as if to suit the action to the word. Reaching
+through the office window, Mr. Ireland caught him by the shoulder.
+
+"All right. You send for him. I'll speak to him instead."
+
+The clerk eyed the detaining hand with an air of unconcealed disgust.
+
+"Very good. Have the kindness to remove your hand. If you are a
+policeman, as you say you are, yours is not the kind of grasp which I
+care to have upon my shoulder."
+
+"Hoity-toity! Don't you injure yourself, young man. All I want is to
+have the first talk with the manager. Are you going to send for the
+manager, or am I?"
+
+"Here is the manager."
+
+As the clerk spoke, and before he had had time to properly smooth his
+ruffled plumes, the dignitary in question entered the office from an
+inner room. John Ireland accosted him.
+
+"Are you the manager of this hotel--name of Treadwater?"
+
+"I am Mr. Treadwater."
+
+Ireland explained who he was, and what he wanted. Mr. Treadwater was
+evidently even more surprised than the clerk had been.
+
+"You have a warrant for the arrest of Cyril Paxton! Not our Mr.
+Paxton, surely?"
+
+"I don't know about your Mr. Paxton; but it's the Mr. Paxton who's
+stopping here, so don't you make any mistake about it. I'm told he's
+out. One of my men will stay here till he returns. In the meantime I
+want to know if there is any property of his about the place. If there
+is, I want to have a look at it."
+
+The manager considered.
+
+"I don't wish to seem to doubt, Mr. Ireland, that you are what you say
+you are, or, indeed, anything at all that you have said. But an effort
+has already been made once to-day to gain access--under what turned
+out to be false pretences--to certain property which Mr. Paxton has
+committed to our keeping. And I am compelled to inform you that it is
+a rule of ours not, under any circumstances, to give up property which
+has been intrusted to us by our guests to strangers without a proper
+authority."
+
+Ireland smiled grimly.
+
+"Where is there somewhere I can speak to you in private? I'll show you
+authority enough, and to spare."
+
+The manager, having taken Mr. Ireland into the inner room, the
+detective lost no time in explaining the position.
+
+"You're a sensible man, Mr. Treadwater. You don't want to have any
+bother in a place of this sort, and I don't want to make any more
+bother than I'm compelled. Mr. Paxton's wanted for a big thing, about
+as big a thing as I've ever been engaged in. I wasn't likely to come
+here without my proper credentials, hardly. Just you cast your eye
+over this."
+
+Ireland unfolded a blue paper which he had taken from among a sheaf of
+other papers, which were in the inner pocket of his coat, and held it
+up before the manager's face.
+
+"That's a search warrant. If you're not satisfied with what you see of
+it, I'll read it to you, and that's all I'm bound to do. I've reason
+to believe that Cyril Paxton has certain stolen property in his
+possession here, in this hotel. If you choose to give me facilities to
+examine any property he may have, well and good. If you don't choose,
+this warrant authorises me to search the building. I'll call my men
+in, and I'll have it searched from attic to basement--every drawer and
+every box which the place contains, if it takes us all night to do
+it."
+
+Mr. Treadwater rubbed his hands together. He did not look pleased.
+
+"I had no idea, when I spoke, that you were in possession of such a
+document. As you say, I certainly do not wish to have a bother. A
+search warrant is authority enough, even for me. All the property Mr.
+Paxton has in the hotel is in this room. I will show it to you." The
+manager moved to a door which seemed to have been let into the wall.
+"This is our strong-room. As you perceive, it is a letter lock. Only
+one person, except myself, ever has the key to it."
+
+While he was speaking he opened the door. He disappeared into the
+recess which the opening of the door disclosed. Presently he
+reappeared carrying a Gladstone in his hand. He laid the bag on the
+table, in front of Mr. Ireland.
+
+"That is all the property Mr. Paxton has in the hotel."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+The manager smiled--the smile of superiority.
+
+"My dear sir, it is part of my duty to know what every guest brings
+into the hotel. You can, if you like, go up to the room which he
+occupied last night, but you'll find nothing in it of Mr. Paxton's.
+All that he brought with him is contained in that Gladstone bag."
+
+"Then we'll see what's in it. I'm going to open it in your presence,
+so that you'll be evidence to prove that I play no hankey-pankey
+tricks."
+
+Mr. Ireland did open it in the manager's presence. With, considering
+the absence of proper tools, a degree of dexterity which did him
+credit. But after all it appeared that there was nothing in it to
+adequately reward him for the trouble he had taken. The bag was filled
+chiefly with shirts and underclothing. Although every article seemed
+to be bran-new, there was absolutely nothing which, correctly
+speaking, could be said to be of value. With total want of ceremony
+the investigator turned the entire contents of the bag out upon the
+table. But though he did so, nothing in any way out of the common was
+discovered.
+
+Judging from the expression of his countenance, Mr. Ireland did not
+seem to be contented.
+
+"Wasn't there an attempt at burglary here last night? One's been
+reported."
+
+"There was. For the first time in the history of the hotel. An attempt
+was made from the street to gain admission through the window, to Mr.
+Paxton's bedroom."
+
+"And didn't you say that an attempt had been made to-day to gain
+access, by means of false pretences, to Mr. Paxton's property?"
+
+"That is so."
+
+"And didn't he ask you to keep that property safe in your
+strong-room?"
+
+"He did."
+
+"Well--doesn't it seem as if somebody was precious anxious to lay his
+hands upon that property, and that Mr. Paxton was equally anxious that
+he shouldn't?"
+
+"Precisely."
+
+"And yet you go and tell me that all the property he has is contained
+in that Gladstone bag. What is there that should make any one go out
+of his way to take it? You tell me that!"
+
+When the manager replied, it was with an appreciable amount of
+hesitation.
+
+"I think that is a point on which I may be able to throw some light."
+
+"Then throw it--do!"
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised if Mr. Paxton took all that the bag
+contained which was of value up to London with him this morning, and
+left it there. Indeed, this evening, before he went out, he told me
+that that was what he had done."
+
+Mr. Ireland gave utterance to what, coming from the mouth of any one
+but an inspector of police, would have sounded like a string of
+execrations.
+
+"I suppose you've no idea what it was that he took with him or where
+it was he took it?"
+
+"Not the faintest notion."
+
+"Mr. Treadwater, this is another illustration of the fact that if you
+want a thing well done you must do it yourself. This morning I set a
+man to shadow Mr. Paxton--I told him not to let him get out of his
+sight. What does he do, this utter idiot? He sees our gentleman drop a
+ring. My man, he picks it up, and he gets into such a state of
+excitement that he loses his head and tears straight off with it to
+me. I'm not saying that he'd not chanced upon an important piece of
+evidence, because he had; but if he'd kept his wits about him, and had
+his head screwed on straight, he'd have had the ring and Mr. Paxton
+too. As it was, that was the last he saw of Mr. Paxton."
+
+"May I ask what it is you suspect Mr. Paxton of having taken with him
+up to town?"
+
+"Unless I'm out of my reckoning, Mr. Paxton went up to town with the
+Duchess of Datchet's diamonds stowed away in his pockets."
+
+The manager's face was a vivid note of exclamation.
+
+"No! My dear sir, I have been acquainted with Mr. Paxton some
+considerable time. I happen to know that he's a gentleman of position
+in the City. You must surely be mistaken in supposing that he could be
+mixed up in such an affair as that--it's incredible!"
+
+"Is it? That's all right. If you like, you think so. Gentlemen of
+position in the City have had their fingers in some queer pies before
+to-day. If you don't happen to know it, I present you with the
+information gratis. Have you any idea of where he was going when he
+went out to-night?"
+
+"I fancy that when he comes to Brighton he comes to see a lady. I
+rather took it for granted that, as usual, he was going to her."
+
+"What's her name; and where does she live?"
+
+"I don't know her name; but I believe she lives in Medina
+Villas--that, you know, is at West Brighton."
+
+"Medina Villas?" Ireland seemed to be turning something over in his
+mind. He smiled. "I shouldn't be surprised. If she does, I'm inclined
+to think that one of my men has got his eye on her address. If Mr.
+Paxton's there, he's nabbed. But I'm afraid he isn't. On this occasion
+I'm inclined to think that he had an appointment which he found to be
+slightly more pressing than that which he had with the lady." Ireland
+looked at the manager with what he probably intended for a look of
+frankness. "I don't mind owning that there are features about the
+case, as it stands at present, which are beyond my comprehension, and
+I tell you, I would give a good round sum to be able this moment to
+lay my finger on Mr. Paxton."
+
+"So would I. I'd give a great deal to be able to lay my finger on Mr.
+Paxton. With all my heart I would. Yes, sir, indeed I would."
+
+Each of the talkers had been too much interested in what the other had
+to say to notice that while they talked, without invitation or any
+sort of announcement, a procession--the procession of three!--had
+entered the room. The speaker was, of course, Miss Strong. Behind her,
+gripping the handle of her parasol, as it seemed a little nervously,
+came Miss Wentworth. Mr. Franklyn, looking distinctly the most
+uncomfortable of the trio, brought up the rear. Miss Strong, in front,
+bore herself like a female paladin. She held herself quite straight;
+her shoulders were thrown well back; her dainty head was gallantly
+poised upon her lovely neck; she breathed the air of battle. She might
+not have known it, but seldom had she looked more charming. The
+detective and the manager both looked at her askance. She only looked
+at the detective.
+
+"Are you John Ireland?"
+
+"I am. Though I have not the pleasure, madam, of knowing you."
+
+"I am Daisy Strong, who am shortly to be Cyril Paxton's wife. How dare
+you, Mr. Ireland, so foully slander him!"
+
+Mr. Ireland showed symptoms of being surprised. He had an eye for a
+lady, and still more, perhaps, for a pretty girl. And by neither was
+he accustomed to being addressed in such a strain.
+
+"I trust, madam, that I have not slandered Mr. Paxton."
+
+"You trust so, do you? Mr. Franklyn, will you come forward, please,
+instead of hanging behind there in the shadow of Miss Wentworth's
+skirts, as if you were afraid?"
+
+Mr. Franklyn, thus addressed, came forward, looking, however, as if he
+would rather not.
+
+"You hear what this person says. And yet you tell me he has slandered
+Cyril Paxton as foully as he could."
+
+Mr. Franklyn shot a glance at Mr. Ireland which was meant to be
+pregnant with meaning. He showed a disposition to hum and to ha.
+
+"My dear Miss Strong, I'm sure you will find that Mr. Ireland is not
+unreasonable. His only desire is to do his duty."
+
+Miss Strong stamped her foot upon the floor.
+
+"His duty! to slander a gentleman in whose presence he is not worthy
+to stand! Because a man calls himself a policeman, and by doubtful
+methods contrives to earn the money with which to keep himself alive,
+is such an one entitled to fling mud at men of stainless honour and
+untarnished reputation, and then to excuse himself by pretending that
+flinging mud is his duty? If you, Mr. Franklyn, are afraid of a
+policeman, merely because he's a policeman, I assure you I am not. And
+I take leave to tell Mr. Ireland that there are policemen who are, at
+least, as much in want of being kept in order as any member of the
+criminal classes by any possibility could be."
+
+Ireland eyed the eloquent lady as if he were half-puzzled,
+half-amused.
+
+"I understand your feelings, madam, and I admire your pluck in
+standing up for Mr. Paxton."
+
+Again the lady stamped her foot.
+
+"I care nothing for your approval! And it has nothing at all to do
+with the matter on hand."
+
+The detective coughed apologetically.
+
+"Perfectly true, madam. But I can't help it. I assure you I always do
+admire a young woman who sticks up for her young man when he happens
+to find himself in a bit of a scrape. But, if you take my tip, Miss
+Strong, you'll leave us men to manage these sort of things. You'll
+only do Mr. Paxton harm by interfering. You tell her, Mr. Franklyn, if
+what I say isn't true."
+
+Miss Strong turned towards Mr. Ireland, cutting short the words on
+Franklyn's lips before they had a chance of getting themselves spoken.
+
+"Do not refer to Mr. Franklyn on any matter which concerns me. There
+is no connection between us. Mr. Franklyn and I are strangers. I am
+quite capable of taking care of myself. I even think that you may find
+me almost a match for you." She turned to Treadwater. "Is Mr. Paxton
+stopping in this hotel?"
+
+"He stayed here last night, madam. And he has been here again this
+evening. At present, he is out."
+
+"And what is this?"
+
+She motioned towards the open bag, with its contents strewed upon the
+table.
+
+"That is Mr. Paxton's. Mr. Ireland has forced it open."
+
+Miss Strong turned towards Ireland--a veritable feminine fury.
+
+"You wretched spy! you cowardly thief! To take advantage of a man's
+back being turned to poke and pry among his private possessions in
+order to gratify your curiosity! Is that the science of detection?"
+She transferred her attentions to the manager. "And you--are those the
+lines on which your hotel is conducted, that you hand over, in their
+absence, the belongings of your guests to the tender mercies of such a
+man as this? If so, then your methods of management ought to be known
+more widely than they are. Decent people will then know what they have
+to expect when they trust themselves inside your doors."
+
+Treadwater did not seem as if he altogether relished the fashion of
+the lady's speech. He began to make excuses.
+
+"I protested against Mr. Ireland's action; but on his producing a
+search warrant, I yielded to the pressure of necessity."
+
+"The pressure of necessity! Do you call this the pressure of
+necessity?"
+
+Miss Strong pointed a scornful finger at Mr. Ireland. Ostentatiously
+ignoring her, the detective addressed himself to the manager.
+
+"I'm going now, Mr. Treadwater. I'll leave one of my men behind me. If
+Mr. Paxton returns, he'll deal with him."
+
+The lady interposed.
+
+"What do you mean--he'll deal with him?"
+
+"What do I mean? I mean that Mr. Paxton will be arrested as soon as he
+shows his nose inside the door. And I'll tell you what, Miss Strong,
+if you were to use fewer hard words, and were to do something to prove
+Mr. Paxton's innocence, instead of talking big about it, you might do
+him more good than you're likely to do by the way in which you've been
+going on up to now. I'll put these things together and take them with
+me."
+
+By "these things" Mr. Ireland meant Mr. Paxton's. He moved towards the
+table. Miss Strong thrust herself between him and it.
+
+"Don't touch them--don't dare to touch them! Don't dare to touch
+Cyril's property! Do you suppose that, because you're a policeman, all
+the world can be cowed into suffering you to commit open robbery?"
+
+She clutched at the table with both her hands, glaring at him like
+some wild cat. Shrugging his shoulders, Ireland laughed, shortly,
+grimly.
+
+"Very good, Miss Strong. There is nothing there which is of the
+slightest consequence in this particular case. You are welcome to take
+them in your custody. Only, remember, you assume the responsibility
+for their safe keeping."
+
+"The man who forces open another man's portmanteau without the
+knowledge of its owner becomes, I fancy, at once responsible for its
+contents. And I promise you that if the slightest article is missing
+you will be taught that even a policeman can be called to account."
+
+Without attempting to answer her, Ireland went towards the door,
+pausing, as he went, to whisper to Mr. Franklyn--
+
+"Why did you bring her with you? She'll only make bad worse."
+
+Mr. Franklyn shrugged his shoulders, as the detective himself had
+done.
+
+"I didn't bring her! She brought me!"
+
+Miss Strong's clear tones came after the detective.
+
+"You set a man to spy on me, Mr. Ireland, and now I mean to spy on
+you. We'll see if turn and turn about is not fair play, and if you
+dare to try to prevent my going exactly where I please."
+
+Still ignoring her, Ireland went into the hall. There he found Hollier
+in waiting.
+
+"Any report, Hollier?"
+
+"Nothing material, sir. I followed Mr. Franklyn to Medina Villas and
+back, but saw nothing to cause me to suppose that he was in
+communication with Mr. Paxton."
+
+"You remain here until I relieve you. If Mr. Paxton returns, arrest
+him. Send for me if I am required. I will leave a man outside, so that
+you can have help, if it is needed."
+
+Ireland went through the hall, and through the door, Miss Strong hard
+upon his heels. On the steps he turned and spoke to her.
+
+"Now, Miss Strong, if you are wise, you'll go home and go to bed. You
+may do as you like about attempting to follow me, but I promise you, I
+shall not permit you to dog my footsteps one moment longer than it
+suits my convenience. On that point you need be under no
+misapprehension."
+
+The detective strode away. Miss Strong was about to follow, when Miss
+Wentworth caught her by the arm.
+
+"Now, Daisy, be reasonable--you'll do no good by persisting--let's go
+home."
+
+"Loose my arm."
+
+Miss Wentworth loosed it.
+
+In less than a minute Daisy had decreased the distance between Ireland
+and herself to half a dozen feet. Franklyn and Miss Wentworth came
+after, splashing through the mud and the mist, somewhat
+disconsolately, a few paces in the rear.
+
+The cavalcade had gone, perhaps, fifty yards, when a figure, dashing
+out of an entry they were passing, caught Ireland by the lapel of his
+sleeve.
+
+"Guv'nor! I want to speak to you!"
+
+The figure was that of a man--an undersized, half-grown, very
+shabby-looking man. The light was not bad enough to conceal so much.
+The collar of a ragged, dirty coat was turned up high about his neck,
+and an ancient billycock was crammed down upon his head. Stopping,
+Ireland turned and looked at him.
+
+"You want to speak to me?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Ireland; don't yer know me?"
+
+"Know you?" Suddenly Ireland's arm went out straight from the
+shoulder, and the stranger, as if he had been a rat, was gripped
+tightly by the neck. "Yes, Bill Cooper, I do know you. I've been
+looking for you some time. There's something which I rather wish to
+say to you. Now, what's your little game?"
+
+The man's voice became a whine; the change was almost excusable when
+one considers how uncomfortable he must have been in the detective's
+grasp. Daisy, who was standing within a yard, could hear distinctly
+every word that was uttered.
+
+"Don't be nasty, Mr. Ireland, that ain't like you! I know you want
+me--that's all right--but if you take me without hearing what I've got
+to say you'll be sorry all the same."
+
+"Sorry, shall I? How do you make that out?"
+
+"Why, because I'll make your fortune for you if you'll give me half a
+chance--leastways, I daresay it's made already, but I'll double it for
+you, anyhow."
+
+"And pray how do you propose to do that?"
+
+"Why, I'll put you on to the biggest thing that ever you were put on
+to."
+
+"You mean that you'll round on your comrades. I see. Is that it?"
+
+The stranger did not seem to altogether like the fashion in which Mr.
+Ireland summed up his intentions.
+
+"You may call it what you please, but if I hadn't been used bad first
+of all myself, I wouldn't have said a word; red-hot irons wouldn't
+have made me. But when a chap's been used like I've been used, he
+feels like giving of a bit of it back again; that's fair enough, ain't
+it?"
+
+"Chuck the patter, Bill. Go on with what you have to say."
+
+"Look here, Mr. Ireland, you give me ten thick 'uns, enough to take me
+to 'Merriker; I'll go there, and I'll put you on to them as had
+something to do with them there Duchess of Datchet's diamonds what's
+been and got theirselves mislaid."
+
+It was Daisy who answered. She seemed to speak in sudden and
+uncontrollable excitement. "I don't know what ten thick 'uns are, but
+if you do what you say I'll give you fifty pounds out of my own
+pocket."
+
+The man regarded Miss Strong with an inquiring eye.
+
+"I don't know you, miss. Mr. Ireland, who's the lady?"
+
+"The lady's all right. She's a bit interested in the Datchet diamonds
+herself. If she says she'll give you fifty pounds you'll get 'em, only
+you've got to earn 'em, mind!"
+
+"Fifty pound!" The man drew a long breath.
+
+"I'd do pretty nigh anything for fifty pound, let alone the way
+they've been and used me. I've been having a cruel hard time, I
+have--cruel hard!"
+
+Ireland took Cooper by the shoulder and shook him, with the apparent
+intention of waking him up.
+
+"All right, Mr. Ireland, all right; there ain't no call for you to go
+handling of me; I ain't doing nothing to you. I don't know the lady,
+and she don't know me, and I'm only a-trying to see that's it's all
+right. You wouldn't do a pore bloke, miss, would you? That fifty'll be
+all right?"
+
+Mr. Ireland presented Cooper with a second application of the previous
+dose.
+
+"That fifty'll be all right, or rather it'll be all wrong, if you keep
+me standing here much longer in the rain."
+
+"You are so hasty, Mr. Ireland, upon my word you are. I'm a-coming to
+it, ain't I? Now I'll tell you straight. Tom the Toff, he done the
+nicking; and the Baron, he put him up to it." Miss Strong looked
+bewildered.
+
+"Tom the Toff? The Baron? Who are they?"
+
+The detective spoke.
+
+"I know who they are, Miss Strong. And I may tell Mr. Cooper that I've
+had an eye on those two gentlemen already. What I want to know is
+where the diamonds are. They're worth more than the rogues who took
+them. Now, Bill, where are the shiners?"
+
+Cooper stretched out both his hands in front of him with a gesture
+which was possibly intended to impress Mr. Ireland with a conviction
+of his childlike candour.
+
+"That's where it is--just exactly where it is! I don't know where the
+shiners are--and that's the trewth! Yet more don't nobody else seem to
+know where the shiners are! That's what the row's about! Seems as how
+the shiners has hooked theirselves clean off--and ain't there
+ructions! So far as I can make out from what I've come across and put
+together, don't yer know, it seems as how a cove as they calls
+Paxton----"
+
+"Paxton!"
+
+The name came simultaneously from Ireland and Miss Strong.
+
+"I don't know as that's his name--that's only what I've heard 'em call
+him, don't yer know. He's a rare fine toff, a regular out-and-outer,
+whatever his name is. It seems as how this here cove as they calls
+Paxton has been playing it off on the Toff and the Baron, and taken
+the whole blooming lot of sparklers for his own--so far as I can make
+out, he has."
+
+"It's a lie!"
+
+This was, of course, Miss Strong. The plain speaking did not seem to
+hurt Mr. Cooper's feelings.
+
+"That I don't know nothing at all about; I'm only telling you what I
+know. And I do know that they've had a go at this here cove as they
+calls Paxton more than once, and more than twice, and that now they've
+got him fast enough."
+
+Mr. Ireland twisted Cooper round, so that the electric lamplight shone
+on his face.
+
+"What do you mean--they've got him fast enough?"
+
+"I mean what I says, don't I? They got hold of him this evening, and
+they've took him to a crib they got, and if he don't hand over them
+sparklers they'll murder him as soon as look at him."
+
+Miss Strong turned to the detective with shining eyes.
+
+"Mr. Ireland, save him! What shall we do?"
+
+"Don't put yourself out, Miss Strong. This may turn out to be the best
+thing that could have happened to Mr. Paxton. Bill, where's this crib
+of theirs?"
+
+Cooper pushed his hat on to the side of his head.
+
+"I don't know as how I could rightly describe it to you--Brighton
+ain't my home, you know. But I daresay I could show it to you if I was
+to try."
+
+"Then you shall try. Listen to me, Bill Cooper. If you take me to this
+crib of theirs, and if what you say is true, and you don't try to play
+any of those tricks of yours, I'll add something of my own to this
+lady's fifty, and it'll be the best stroke of business that you ever
+did in all your life."
+
+Ireland called a cab. He allowed Daisy to enter first. Cooper got in
+after her.
+
+"The police-station, driver--as fast as you can."
+
+Cooper immediately wanted to get out again.
+
+"Where are you a-taking me to? I ain't going to no police-station!"
+
+"Stay where you are, you idiot! So long as you act fairly with me,
+I'll act fairly with you. You don't suppose that this is a sort of job
+that I can tackle single-handed? I'm going to the station to get help.
+Now then, driver, move that horse of yours!"
+
+The cab moved off, leaving Miss Wentworth and Mr. Franklyn to follow
+in another if they chose.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIV
+
+                            AMONG THIEVES
+
+
+Cyril was vaguely conscious of the touch of some one's hand about
+the region of his throat; not of a soft or a gentle hand, but of a
+clumsy, fumbling, yet resolute paw. Then of something falling on to
+him--falling with a splashing sound. He opened his eyes, heavily,
+dreamily. He heard a voice, speaking as if from afar.
+
+"Hullo, chummie, so you ain't dead, after all?--leastways, not as yet
+you ain't."
+
+The voice was not a musical voice, nor a friendly one. It was harsh
+and husky, as if the speaker suffered from a chronic cold. It was the
+voice not only of an uneducated man, but of the lowest type of
+English-speaking human animal. Cyril shuddered as he heard it. His
+eyes closed of their own accord.
+
+"Now then!"
+
+The words were accompanied by a smart, stinging blow on Mr. Paxton's
+cheek, a blow from the open palm of an iron-fronted hand. Severe
+though it was, Paxton was in such a condition of curious torpor that
+it scarcely seemed to stir him. It induced him to open his eyes again,
+and that, apparently, was all.
+
+"Look here, chummie, if you're a-going to make a do of it, make a do
+of it, and we'll bury you. But if you're going to keep on living, move
+yourself, and look alive about it. I ain't going to spend all my time
+waiting for you--it's not quite good enough."
+
+While the flow of words continued, Cyril endeavoured to get the
+speaker's focus--to resolve his individuality within the circuit of
+his vision. And, by degrees, it began to dawn on him that the man was,
+after all, quite close to him: too close, indeed--very much too close.
+With a sensation of disgust he realised that the fellow's face was
+actually within a few inches of his own--realised, too, what an
+unpleasant face it was, and that the man's horrible breath was
+mingling with his. It was an evil face, the face of one who had grown
+prematurely old. Staring eyes were set in cavernous sockets. A month's
+growth of bristles accentuated the animalism of the man's mouth, and
+jaw, and chin. His ears stuck out like flappers. His forehead receded.
+His scanty, grizzled hair looked as if it had been shaved off close to
+his head. Altogether, the man presented a singularly unpleasant
+picture. As Paxton grasped, slowly enough, how unpleasant, he became
+conscious of a feeling of unconquerable repulsion.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked.
+
+His voice did not sound to him as if it were his own. It was thin, and
+faint like the voice of some puny child.
+
+"Me?" The fellow chuckled--not by any means in a way which was
+suggestive of mirth. "I'm the Lord Mayor and Aldermen--that's who I
+am."
+
+Paxton's senses were so dulled, and he felt so stupid, that he was
+unable to understand, on the instant, if the fellow was in earnest.
+
+"The Lord Mayor and Aldermen--you?"
+
+The man chuckled again.
+
+"Yes; and likewise the Dook of Northumberland and the Archbishop of
+Canterbury. Let alone the Queen's own R'yal physician, what's been
+specially engaged, regardless of all cost, to bring you back to life,
+so as you can be killed again."
+
+The man's words made Cyril think. Killed again? What had happened to
+him already? Where was he? Something seemed suddenly to clear his
+brain, and to make him conscious of the strangeness of his
+surroundings. He tried to move, and found he could not.
+
+"What's the matter? Where am I?"
+
+"As for what's the matter, why, there's one or two things as is the
+matter. And, as for where you are, why, that's neither here nor there.
+If I was you, I wouldn't ask no questions."
+
+Mr. Paxton looked at the speaker keenly. His eyesight was improving.
+The sense of accurate perception was returning to him fast. The
+clearer his head became, the more acutely he realised that something
+beyond the normal seemed to be weighing on his physical frame, and to
+clog all the muscles of his body.
+
+"What tricks have you been playing on me?"
+
+The man's huge mouth was distorted by a mirthless grin.
+
+"There you are again, asking of your questions. Ain't I told yer, not
+half a moment since, that if I was you I wouldn't? I've only been
+having a little game with you, that's all."
+
+The man's tone stirred Paxton to sudden anger. It was all he could do
+to prevent himself giving utterance to what, under the circumstances,
+would have been tantamount to a burst of childish petulance. He tried
+again to move, and immediately became conscious that at least the
+upper portion of his body was sopping wet, and he was lying in what
+seemed to be a pool of water.
+
+"What's this I'm lying in?"
+
+For answer the man, taking up a pail which had been standing by his
+side, dashed its contents full into Cyril's face.
+
+"That's what you're lying in--about eighteen gallons or so of that; as
+nice clean water as ever you swallowed. You see, I've had to give you
+a sluicing or two, to liven you up. We didn't want to feel, after all
+the trouble we've had to get you, as how we'd lost you."
+
+The water, for which Mr. Paxton had been wholly unprepared, and which
+had been hurled at him with considerable force, had gone right into
+his eyes and mouth. He had to struggle and gasp for breath. His
+convulsive efforts seemed to amuse his assailant not a little.
+
+"That's right, choke away! A good plucked one you are, from what I
+hear. Fond of a bit of a scrap, I'm told. A nice little job they seem
+to have had of it a-getting of you here."
+
+As the fellow spoke, the events of the night came back to Cyril in a
+sudden rush of memory. His leaving the hotel, flushed with excitement;
+the glow of pleasure which had warmed the blood in his veins at the
+prospect of meeting Daisy laden with good tidings--he remembered it
+all. Remembered, too, how, when he had scarcely started on his quest,
+some one, unexpectedly, had come upon him from behind, and how a cloth
+had been thrown across his face and held tightly against his mouth--a
+wet cloth, saturated with some sticky, sweet-smelling stuff. And how
+it had dragged him backwards, overpowering him all at once with a
+sense of sickening faintness. He had some misty recollection, too, of
+a cab standing close beside him, and of his being forced into it. But
+memory carried him no further; the rest was blank.
+
+He had been kidnapped--that was clear enough; the cloth had been
+soaked with chloroform--that also was sufficiently clear. The
+after-effects of chloroform explained the uncomfortable feeling which
+still prostrated him. But by whom had he been kidnapped? and why? and
+how long ago? and where had his captors brought him?
+
+He was bound hand and foot--that also was plain. His hands were drawn
+behind his back and tied together at the wrists, with painful
+tightness, as he was realising better and better every moment. He had
+been thrown on his back, so that his whole weight lay on his arms.
+What looked like a clothes line had been passed over his body,
+fastened to a ring, or something which was beneath him, on the floor,
+and then drawn so tightly across his chest that not only was it
+impossible for him to move, but it was even hard for him to breathe.
+As if such fastenings were not enough, his feet and legs had been
+laced together and rendered useless, cords having been wound round
+and round him from his ankles to his thighs. A trussed fowl could not
+have been more helpless. The wonder was that, confined in such bonds,
+he had ever been able to escape the stupefying effects of the
+chloroform--even with the aid of his companion's pail of water.
+
+The room in which he was lying was certainly not an apartment in any
+modern house. The floor was bare, and, as he was painfully conscious,
+unpleasantly uneven. The ceiling was low and raftered, and black with
+smoke. At one end was what resembled a blacksmith's furnace rather
+than an ordinary stove. Scattered about were not only hammers and
+other tools, but also a variety of other implements, whose use he did
+not understand. The place was lighted by the glowing embers of a fire,
+which smouldered fitfully upon the furnace, and also by a lamp which
+was suspended from the centre of the raftered ceiling--the glass of
+which badly needed cleaning. A heavy deal table stood under the lamp,
+and this, together with a wooden chair and a stool or two, was all the
+furniture the place contained. How air and ventilation were obtained
+Paxton was unable to perceive, and the fumes which seemed to escape
+from the furnace were almost stifling in their pungency.
+
+While Paxton had been endeavouring to collect his scattered senses, so
+that they might enable him, if possible, to comprehend his situation,
+the man with the pail had been eyeing him with a curious grin.
+
+Paxton asked himself, as he looked at him, if the man might not be
+susceptible to the softening influence of a substantial bribe. He
+decided, at any rate, to see if he had not in his constitution such a
+thing as a sympathetic spot.
+
+"These ropes are cutting me like knives. If you were to loosen them a
+bit you would still have me tied as tight as your heart could desire.
+Suppose you were to ease them a trifle."
+
+The fellow shook his head.
+
+"It couldn't be done, not at no price. It's only a-getting of yer used
+to what's a-coming--it ain't nothing to what yer going to have, lor'
+bless yer, no. The Baron, he says to me, says he, 'Tie 'em tight,' he
+says, 'don't let's 'ave no fooling,' he says. 'So as when the Toff's
+a-ready to deal with him he'll be in a humbler frame of mind.'"
+
+"The Baron?--the Toff?--who are they?"
+
+"There you are again, a-asking of your questions. If you ask questions
+I'll give you another dose from this here pail."
+
+The speaker brandished his pail with a gesture which was illustrative
+of his meaning. Paxton felt, as he regarded him, that he would have
+given a good round sum to have been able to carry on a conversation
+with him on terms of something like equality.
+
+"What's your name?"
+
+"What!"
+
+As, almost unconsciously, still another question escaped Mr. Paxton's
+lips, the fellow, moving forward, brandished his pail at arm's length
+above his shoulders. Although he expected, momentarily, that the
+formidable weapon would be brought down with merciless force upon his
+unprotected face and head, Paxton, looking his assailant steadily in
+the eyes, showed no signs of flinching. It was, possibly, this which
+induced the fellow to change his mind--for change it he apparently
+did. He brought the pail back slowly to its original position.
+
+"Next time you'll get it. I'm dreadful short of temper, I am--can't
+stand no crossing. Talk to me about the state of the nation, or the
+price of coals, or your mother-in-law, and I'm with you, but questions
+I bar."
+
+Paxton tried to summon up a smile.
+
+"Under different circumstances I should be happy to discuss with you
+the political and other tendencies of the age, but just at present,
+for conversation on such an exalted plane, the conditions can scarcely
+be called auspicious."
+
+Up went the pail once more.
+
+"None of your sauce for me, or you'll get it. Now, what's the matter?"
+
+The matter was that Paxton had closed his eyes and compressed his
+lips, and that a suggestive pallor had come into his cheeks. The pain
+of his ligatures was rapidly becoming so excruciating that it was as
+much as he could do to bear it and keep his senses.
+
+"These ropes of yours cut like knives," he murmured.
+
+Instead of being moved to pity, the fellow was moved to smile.
+
+"Like another pailful--hot or cold?"
+
+It was a moment or two before Paxton could trust himself to speak.
+When he did it was once more with the ghastly semblance of a smile.
+
+"What a pleasant sort of man you seem to be!"
+
+"I am that for certain sure."
+
+"What would you say to a five-pound note?"
+
+"Thank you; I've got one or two of them already. Took 'em out of your
+pocket, as you didn't seem to have no use for them yourself."
+
+While Paxton was endeavouring, seemingly, to grasp the full meaning of
+this agreeable piece of information, a door at the further end of the
+room was opened and some one else came in. Paxton turned his head to
+see who it was. It was with a sense of shock, and yet, with a
+consciousness that it was, after all, what he might have expected,
+that he perceived that the newcomer was the ill-favoured associate of
+Mr. Lawrence, towards whom he had felt at first sight so strong an
+aversion. He was attired precisely as he had been when Paxton had seen
+him last--in the long, loose, black overcoat and the amazingly high
+tall hat. As he stood peering across the room, he looked like some
+grotesque familiar spirit come straight from shadowland.
+
+"Well, my Skittles, and is our good friend still alive--eh?"
+
+The man with the pail thus addressed as Skittles grinned at Paxton as
+he answered.
+
+"The blokey's all right. Him and me's been having a little friendly
+talk together."
+
+"Is that so? I hope, my Skittles, you have been giving Mr. Paxton a
+little good advice?"
+
+The man with the curious foreign accent came, and, standing by Cyril's
+side, glowered down on him like some uncanny creature of evil origin.
+
+"Well, Mr. Paxton, I am very glad to see you, sir, underneath this
+humble roof--eh?"
+
+Paxton looked up at him as steadily as the pain which he was enduring
+would permit.
+
+"I don't know your name, sir, or who you are, but I must request you
+to give me, if you can, an explanation of this extraordinary outrage
+to which I have been subjected?"
+
+"Outrage--eh? You have been subjected to outrage? Alas! It is hard,
+Mr. Paxton, that a man of your character should be subjected to
+outrage--not true--eh?"
+
+"You'll be called to account for this, for that you may take my word.
+My absence has been discovered long ago, and I have friends who will
+leave no stone unturned till they have tracked you to your lair."
+
+"Those friends of yours, Mr. Paxton, will be very clever if they track
+me to what you call my lair until it is too late--for you! You have my
+promise. Before that time, if you are not very careful, you will be
+beyond the reach of help."
+
+"At any rate I shall have the pleasure of knowing that, for your share
+in the transaction, you'll be hanged."
+
+The German-American shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Well, perhaps. That is likely, anyhow. It is my experience that,
+sooner or later, one has to pay for one's little amusements, as, Mr.
+Paxton, you are now to find."
+
+Paxton's lips curled. There was something about the speaker's
+manner--in his voice, with its continual suggestion of a sneer, about
+his whole appearance--which filled him with a sense of loathing to
+which he would have found it impossible to give utterance in words. He
+felt as one might feel who is brought into involuntary contact with an
+unclean animal.
+
+"I don't know if you are endeavouring to frighten me. Surely you are
+aware that I am not to be terrified by threats?"
+
+"With threats? Oh, no! I do not wish to frighten you with threats.
+That I will make you afraid, is true, but it will not be with
+threats--I am not so foolish. You think that nothing will make you
+afraid? Mr. Paxton, I have seen many men like that. When a man is
+fresh and strong, and can defend himself, and still has hopes, it
+takes a deal, perhaps, to make him afraid. But when a man is helpless,
+and is in the hands of those who care not what he suffers, and he has
+undergone a little course of scientific treatment, there comes a time
+when he is afraid--oh, yes! As you will see. Why, Mr. Paxton, what is
+the matter with you? You look as if you were afraid already."
+
+Paxton's eyes were closed, involuntarily. Beads of sweat stood upon
+his brow. The muscles of his face seemed to be convulsed. It was a
+second or two before he was able to speak.
+
+"These cords are killing me. Tell that friend of yours to loosen
+them."
+
+"Loosen them? Why, certainly. Why not? My Skittles, loosen the cords
+which give Mr. Paxton so much annoyance--at once."
+
+Skittles looked at the Baron with doubtful eyes.
+
+"Do you mean it, Baron?"
+
+The Baron--as the German-American was designated by Skittles--burst,
+without the slightest warning, into a frenzy of rage, which, although
+it was suggested rather than expressed, seemed to wither Skittles,
+root and branch, as if it had been a stroke of lightning.
+
+"Mean it?--you idiot! How dare you ask if I mean it? Do as I say!"
+
+Skittles lost no time in doing his best to appease the other's anger.
+
+"You needn't be nasty, Baron. I never meant no harm. You don't always
+mean just exactly what you says--and that's the truth, Baron."
+
+"Never you mind what I mean at other times--this time I mean what I
+say. Untie the ropes which fasten Mr. Paxton to the floor--the ropes
+about his hands and his feet, they are nothing, they will do very well
+where they are. A change of position will do him good--eh? Lift him up
+on to his feet, and stand him in the corner against the wall."
+
+Skittles did as he was bid--at any rate, to the extent of unfastening
+the cords, which, as it were, nailed Paxton to the ground. The relief
+was so sudden, and, at the same time, so violent, that before he knew
+it, he had fainted. Fortunately, his senses did not forsake him long.
+He returned to consciousness just in time to hear the Baron--
+
+"My Skittles, you get a pail of boiling water, so hot it will bring
+the skin right off him. It's the finest thing in the world to bring a
+man out of a faint--you try it, quick, you will see."
+
+Paxton interposed, feebly--just in time to prevent the drastic
+prescription being given actual effect.
+
+"You needn't put your friend to so much trouble. I must apologise for
+going off. I was never guilty of such a thing before. But if you had
+felt as I felt you might have fainted too."
+
+"That is so--not a doubt of it. And yet, Mr. Paxton, a little time
+ago, if I had told you that just because a cord was untied you would
+faint, like a silly woman, you would have laughed at me. It is the
+same with fear. You think that nothing will make you afraid. My
+friends, and myself, we will show you. We will make you so afraid
+that, even if you escape with your life, and live another fifty years,
+you will carry your fear with you always--always--to the grave."
+
+The Baron rubbed his long, thin, yellow hands together.
+
+"Now, my Skittles, you will lift Mr. Paxton on to his feet, and you
+will stand him in the corner there, against the wall. He is very well
+again, in the best of health, and in the best of spirits, eh? Our
+friend"--there was a perceptible pause before the name was
+uttered--"Lawrence--you know Mr. Lawrence, my Skittles, very well--is
+not yet ready to talk to our good friend Mr. Paxton--no, not quite,
+yet. So, till he is ready, we must keep Mr. Paxton well amused, is
+that not so, my Skittles, eh?"
+
+Acting under the Baron's instructions, Skittles picked up Mr. Paxton
+as if he had been a child, and--although he staggered beneath the
+burden--carried him to the corner indicated by the other. When Cyril
+had been placed to the Baron's--if not to his own--satisfaction, the
+Baron produced from his hip-pocket a revolver. No toy affair such as
+one sees in England, but the sort of article which is found, and
+commonly carried, in certain of the Western states of America, and
+which thereabouts is called, with considerable propriety, a gun. This
+really deadly weapon the Baron proceeded to fondle in a fashion which
+suggested that, after all, he actually had in his heart a tenderness
+for something.
+
+"Now, my Skittles, it is some time since I have had practice with my
+revolver; I am going to have a little practice now. I fear my hand may
+be a trifle out; it is necessary that a man in my position should
+always keep it in--eh? Mr. Paxton, I am going to amuse you very
+much indeed. I am a pretty fair shot--that is so. If you keep quite
+still--very, very still indeed--I do not think that I shall hit you,
+perhaps not. But, if you move ever so little, by just that little you
+will be hit. It will not be my fault, it will be yours, you see. I am
+going to singe the lobe of your left ear. Ready! Fire!"
+
+The Baron fired.
+
+Although released from actual bondage to the floor, Mr. Paxton was
+still, to all intents and purposes, completely helpless. His hands
+remained pinioned. Cords were wound round his legs so many times, and
+were drawn so tightly, that the circulation was impeded, and without
+support he was incapable of standing up straight on his own feet. He
+had no option but to confront the ingenious Baron, and to suffer him
+to play what tricks with him he pleased. Whatever he felt he suffered
+no signs of unwillingness to escape him. He looked his tormentor in
+the face as unflinchingly as if the weapon which he held had been a
+popgun. Scarcely had the shot been fired than, in one sense, if not in
+another, he gave the "shootist" as good as he had sent.
+
+"You appear to be a braggart as well as a bully. You can't shoot a
+bit. That landed a good half-inch wide of my left ear."
+
+"Did I not say I fear my hand is a little out? Now it is your right
+ear which I will make to tingle. Ready! Fire!"
+
+Again the Baron fired.
+
+So far as one was able to perceive, his victim did not move by so much
+as a hair's breadth, yet there was a splash of blood upon his cheek.
+
+"Now I will try to put a bullet into the wall quite close to the right
+side of your throat. Ready! Fire!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XV
+
+                         PUT TO THE QUESTION
+
+
+The noise of the report had not yet died away, and the cloud of smoke
+got wholly clear of the muzzle of the Baron's revolver, when the door
+of the room was thrown open to admit some one, who in low, clear,
+even, authoritative tones, asked a question--
+
+"Who's making this noise?"
+
+Whether the Baron's aim had this time been truer there was, as yet, no
+evidence to show. Cyril had, at any rate, escaped uninjured. At the
+sound of the voice, which, although it had been heard by him so
+seldom, had already become too familiar, he glanced round towards the
+questioner. It was Lawrence. He stood just inside the door, looking
+from the Baron to the involuntary target of that gentleman's little
+pleasantries. Close behind him were two men, whom Paxton immediately
+recognised as old acquaintances; the one was the individual who had
+taken a bed for the night at Makell's Hotel, who had shown such a
+pertinacious interest in his affairs, and whom he had afterwards
+suspected of an attempt to effect an entrance through his bedroom
+door; the second was the person who, the next morning, had followed
+him to the Central Station, and of whose too eager attentions he had
+rid himself by summoning a constable.
+
+In the looks which Lawrence directed towards the Baron there seemed to
+be something both of reproach and of contempt.
+
+"Pray, what is the meaning of this?"
+
+The Baron made a movement in the air with one hand, then pointed with
+it to the revolver which he held in the other.
+
+"My friend, it is only a little practice which I have--that is all! It
+is necessary that I keep my hand well in--not so--eh?"
+
+Lawrence's voice as he replied was alive with quiet scorn.
+
+"I would suggest that you should choose a more appropriate occasion on
+which to indulge yourself in what you call a little practice. Did it
+not occur to you, to speak of nothing else, that it might be as well
+to make as little, instead of as much, noise as you conveniently
+could?" He went and stood in front of Mr. Paxton. "I am sorry, sir,
+that we should meet again under such disagreeable conditions; but, as
+you are aware, the responsibility for what has occurred cannot,
+justly, be laid either on my friends or on myself."
+
+Paxton's reply was curt. The abrupt, staccato, contemptuous tone in
+which he spoke was in striking contrast to Lawrence's mellifluous
+murmurings.
+
+"I am aware of nothing of the sort."
+
+Lawrence moved his head with a slight gesture of easy courtesy, which
+might, or might not, have been significative of his acquiescence in
+the other's point-blank contradiction.
+
+"What is that upon your face--blood?"
+
+"That is proof positive of your bungling friend's bad markmanship. He
+would, probably, have presented me with a few further proofs of his
+incapacity had you postponed your arrival for a few minutes longer."
+
+Lawrence repeated his former courteous inclination.
+
+"My friend is a man of an unusual humour. Apt, occasionally, like the
+rest of us, to rate his capacities beyond their strict deserts." He
+turned to the two men who had come with him into the room. "Untie Mr.
+Paxton's legs." Then back again to Cyril. "I regret, sir, that it is
+impossible for me, at the moment, to extend the same freedom to your
+arms and hands. But it is my sincerest trust that, in a very few
+minutes, we may understand each other so completely as to place it in
+my power to restore you, without unnecessary delay, to that position
+in society from which you have been withdrawn."
+
+Although Paxton was silent outwardly, his looks were eloquent of the
+feelings with which he regarded the other's well-turned phrases. When
+his legs had been freed, the two newcomers, standing on either side of
+him as if they had been policemen, urged him forward, until he stood
+in front of the heavy table which occupied the centre of the room. On
+the other side of the table Lawrence had already seated himself on the
+only chair which the place contained. The Baron, still holding his
+revolver, had perched himself on a corner of the table itself.
+Lawrence, leaning a little forward on his chair, with one arm resting
+on the table, never lost his bearing of apparent impartiality, and,
+while he spoke with an air of quiet decision, never showed signs of a
+ruffled temper.
+
+"I have already apologised to you, sir, for the discomforts which you
+may have endured; but, as you are aware, those discomforts you have
+brought upon yourself."
+
+Paxton's lips curled, but he held his peace.
+
+"My friends and I are in the position of men who make war upon
+society. As is the case in all wars, occasions arise on which
+exceptional measures have to be taken which, though unpleasant for all
+the parties chiefly concerned, are inevitable. You are an example of
+such an occasion."
+
+Cyril's reply was sufficiently scornful.
+
+"You don't suppose that your wind-bag phrases hoodwink me. You're a
+scoundrel; and, in consort with other scoundrels, you have taken
+advantage of a gentleman. I prefer to put the matter into plain
+English."
+
+To this little outburst Lawrence paid no attention. For all the notice
+he seemed to take of them the contemptuous words might have remained
+unuttered.
+
+"It is within your knowledge that, in pursuit of my profession, I
+appropriated the Duchess of Datchet's diamonds. I do not wish to
+impute to you, Mr. Paxton, acts of which you may have not been guilty;
+therefore I say that I think it possible it was by accident you
+acquired that piece of information. It is in the same spirit of
+leniency that I add that, at the refreshment-rooms at the Central
+Station, it was by mistake that you took my Gladstone bag in exchange
+for your own. I presume that at this time of day you do not propose to
+deny that such an exchange was effected. In that Gladstone bag of
+mine, which you took away with you by mistake instead of your own, as
+you know, were the Datchet diamonds. What I have now to ask you to
+do--and I desire, I assure you, Mr. Paxton, to ask you with all
+possible courtesy--is to return those diamonds at once to me, their
+rightful owner."
+
+"By what process of reasoning do you make out that you are the
+rightful owner of the Datchet diamonds?"
+
+"By right of conquest."
+
+"Right of conquest! Then, following your own line of reasoning, even
+taking it for granted that all you have chosen to say of me is
+correct, I in my turn have become their rightful owner."
+
+"Precisely. But the crux of the position is this. If the duchess could
+get me into her power she would stick at nothing to extort from me the
+restitution of the stones. In the same way, now that I have you in my
+power, I intend to stick at nothing which will induce their
+restoration from you."
+
+"The difference between you and myself is, shortly, this--you are a
+thief, and I am an honest man."
+
+"Pray, Mr. Paxton, what is your standard of honesty? If you were
+indeed the kind of honest man that you would appear to wish us to
+believe you are, you would at once have handed the stones to the
+police, or even have restored them to the duchess."
+
+"How do you know that I have not?"
+
+"I will tell you how I know. If you had been so honest there would not
+be in existence now a warrant to arrest you on the charge of stealing
+them. Things being as they are, it happens that there is."
+
+"It's an impudent lie!"
+
+"Possibly you may believe it to be an impudent lie; still, it is the
+truth. A warrant for your arrest has been granted to-day to your
+friend Ireland, of Scotland Yard, on his sworn information. I merely
+mention this as evidence that you have not handed the stones to the
+police, that you have not returned them to the duchess, but that you
+have retained them in your possession with a view of using them for
+purposes of your own, and that, therefore, your standard of morality
+is about on a level with ours."
+
+"What you say is, from first to last, a tissue of lies. You hound! You
+know that! Although it is a case of five to one, my hands are tied,
+and so it's safe to use what words you please."
+
+Lawrence, coming closer to the table, leaned both his elbows on the
+board, and crossed his arms in front of him.
+
+"It seems, Mr. Paxton, as if you, a man of whose existence I was
+unaware until the other day, have set yourself to disappoint me in two
+of the biggest bids I have ever made for fortune and for happiness. I
+am a thief. It has never been made sufficiently plain to me that the
+difference between theft and speculation is such a vital one as to
+clearly establish the superiority of the one over the other. But even
+a thief is human--sometimes very human. I own I am. And it chances
+that, for some days now, I had begun to dream dreams of a most amusing
+kind--dreams of love--yes, and dreams of marriage. I chanced to meet a
+certain lady--I do not think, Mr. Paxton, that I need name any names?"
+
+"It is a matter of indifference to me whether you do so or not."
+
+"Thank you, very much. With this certain lady I found myself in love.
+I dreamt dreams of her--from which dreams I have recently arisen. A
+new something came into my life. I even ventured, in my new-learned
+presumption, to ask her would she marry me. Then for the first time I
+learned that what I asked for already had been given, that what I so
+longed for already was your own. It is strange how much one suffers
+from so small a thing. You'd not believe it. In our first fall, then,
+it seems that you have thrown me.
+
+"Then there is this business of the Datchet jewels. A man of your
+experience cannot suppose that an affair of this magnitude can be
+arranged and finished in a moment. It needs time, and careful
+planning, and other things to boot. I speak as one who knows. Suppose
+you planned some big haul upon the Stock Exchange, collected your
+resources, awaited the propitious second, and, when it came, brought
+off your coup. If in that triumphant moment some perfect stranger were
+to carry off, from underneath your very nose, the spoils for which you
+had risked so much, and which you regarded, and rightly regarded, as
+your own, what would your feelings be towards such an one? Would you
+not feel, at least, that you would like to have his blood? If you have
+sufficient imagination to enable you to place yourself in such a
+situation, you will then be able to dimly realise what, at the present
+moment, our feelings are towards you."
+
+Paxton's voice, when he spoke, was, if possible, more contemptuous
+than ever.
+
+"I care nothing for your feelings."
+
+"Precisely; and, by imparting to us that information, you make our
+task much easier. We, like others, can fight for our own hands--and we
+intend to. You see, Mr. Paxton, that, although I did the actual
+conveying of the diamonds, and therefore the major share of the spoil
+is mine, there were others concerned in the affair as well as myself,
+and they naturally regard themselves as being entitled to a share of
+the profits. You have, consequently, others to deal with as well as
+myself, for we, to be plain, are many. And our desire is that you
+should understand precisely what it is we wish to do. The first thing
+which we wish you to do is to tell us where, at the present moment,
+the diamonds are?"
+
+"Then I won't, even supposing that I know!"
+
+Lawrence went on without seeming to pay any heed to Cyril's
+unqualified refusal--
+
+"The second thing which we wish you to do--supposing you to have
+placed the diamonds where it will be difficult for us to reach
+them--is to give us an authority which will be sufficient to enable us
+to demand, as your agents, if you choose, that the diamonds be handed
+to us without unnecessary delay."
+
+"I will do nothing of the kind."
+
+Again Lawrence seemed to allow the refusal to go unheeded.
+
+"And we would like you to understand that, so soon as the diamonds are
+restored to us, you will be free to go, and to do, and say exactly
+what you please, but that you will continue to be our prisoner till
+they are."
+
+"If my freedom is dependent on my fulfilling the conditions which you
+would seek to impose, I shall continue to be what you call your
+prisoner until I die; but, as it happens, my freedom is contingent on
+nothing of the sort, as you will find."
+
+"We would desire, also, Mr. Paxton, that you should be under no
+delusion. It is far from being our intention that what, as you put it,
+we call your imprisonment should be a period of pleasant probation; on
+the contrary, we intend to make it as uncomfortable as we can--which,
+believe me, is saying not a little."
+
+"That, while I am at your mercy, you will behave in a cowardly and
+brutal fashion I have no doubt whatever."
+
+"More. We have no greater desire than you have yourself that you
+should continue to be, what we call, our prisoner. With a view,
+therefore, to shortening the duration of your imprisonment we shall
+leave no stone unturned--even if we have to resort to all the tortures
+of the Spanish Inquisition--to extort from you the things which we
+require."
+
+Paxton laughed--shortly, dryly, scornfully.
+
+"I don't know if your intention is to be impressive; if it is, I give
+you my word that you don't impress me a little bit. Your attempts to
+wrap up your rascality in fine-sounding phrases strike me as being
+typical of the sort of man you are."
+
+"Mr. Paxton, before we come to actual business, let me advise
+you--and, believe me, in this case my advice is quite unprejudiced--not
+to treat us to any more of this kind of talk! Can't you realise that
+it is not for counters we are playing? That men of our sort, in our
+position, are not likely to stick at trifles? That it is a case of head
+you lose, tails we win--for, while it is obviously a fact that we have
+nothing we can lose, it is equally certainly a fact that there is
+nothing you can gain? So learn wisdom; be wise in time; endeavour to be
+what I would venture to call conformable. Be so good as to give me your
+close attention. I should be extremely obliged, Mr. Paxton, if you
+would give me an answer to the question which I am about to put to you.
+Where, at the present moment, are the Datchet diamonds?"
+
+"I would not tell you even if I knew."
+
+"You do know. On that point there can be no room for doubt. We mean to
+know, too, before we've done with you. Is that your final answer?"
+
+"It is."
+
+"Think again."
+
+"Why should I think?"
+
+"For many reasons. I will give still another chance; I will repeat my
+question. Before you commit yourself to a reply, do consider. Tell me
+where, at the present moment, are the Datchet diamonds?"
+
+"That I will never tell you."
+
+Mr. Lawrence made a movement with his hands which denoted disapproval.
+
+"Since you appear to be impervious to one sort of reasoning, perhaps
+you may be more amenable to another kind. We will do our best to make
+you." Mr. Lawrence turned to the man who had been addressed as
+Skittles. "Be so good as to put a branding-iron into the fire, the one
+on which there is the word 'thief.'"
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVI
+
+               A MODERN INSTANCE OF AN ANCIENT PRACTICE
+
+
+Skittles, when he had, apparently with an effort, mastered the nature
+of Mr. Lawrence's instructions, grinned from ear to ear.
+
+He went to where a number of iron rods with broad heads were heaped
+together on a shelf. They were branding-irons. Selecting one of these,
+he thrust it into the heart of the fire which glowed on the
+blacksmith's furnace. He heaped fuel on to the fire. After a movement
+or two of the bellows it became a roaring blaze.
+
+Lawrence turned to Mr. Paxton--
+
+"Still once more--are you disposed to tell us where the Datchet
+diamonds are?"
+
+"No."
+
+Lawrence smiled. He addressed himself to the two men who held Paxton's
+arms.
+
+"Hold him tight. Now, Skittles, bring that iron of yours. Burn a hole
+under Mr. Paxton's right shoulder-blade, through his clothing."
+
+Skittles again moved the iron from the fire. It had become nearly
+white. He regarded it for a moment with a critical eye. Then,
+advancing with it held at arm's length in front of him, he took up his
+position at Mr. Paxton's back.
+
+"Don't let him go. Now!"
+
+Skittles thrust the flaming iron towards Paxton's shoulder-blade.
+
+There was a smell of burning cloth. For a second Paxton stood like a
+statue; then, leaping right off his feet, he gave first a forward and
+then a backward bound, displaying as he did so so much vigour that,
+although his guardians retained their hold, Skittles, apparently, was
+taken unawares. Possibly, with an artist's pride in good workmanship,
+he had been so much engrossed by the anxiety to carry out the
+commission with which he had been entrusted thoroughly well, that he
+was unprepared for interruptions. However that may have been, when
+Paxton moved his grip on the iron seemed to suddenly loosen, so that,
+losing for the moment complete control of it, it fell down between
+Paxton's arms, the red-hot brand at the further end resting on his
+pinioned wrists. A cry as of a wounded animal, which he was totally
+unable to repress, came from his lips--a cry half of rage, half of
+agony. But the red-hot iron, while inflicting on him frightful pain,
+had at least done him one good service; if it had burned his flesh, it
+had also burned the cords which bound his wrists together. Exerting,
+in his passion and his agony, the strength of half a dozen men, he
+severed the scorched strands of rope as if they had been straws, and,
+hurling from him the two fellows who held his arms--who had expected
+nothing so little as to find his arms unbound--he stood before them,
+so far as his limbs were concerned, free.
+
+Once lost, he was not to be easily regained. He was quicker in his
+movements than Skittles had ever been, and the latter's quickest days
+were long since done. Dropping on to one knee, plunging forward under
+Skittles' guard, he butted that gentleman with his head full in the
+stomach, and had snatched the iron by its handle from his astonished
+hands before he had fully realised what was happening. Springing with
+the rapidity of a jack-in-the-box, to his feet again, he brought the
+dreadful weapon down heavily on Skittles' head. With a groan of agony,
+that gentleman dropped like a log on to the floor.
+
+Armed with the heated iron--a kind of article with which no one would
+care to come into close contact--Paxton turned and faced the others,
+who as yet did not seem fully alive to what had taken place.
+
+"Now, you brutes! I may be bested in the end, but I'll be even with
+one or two of you before I am!"
+
+Lawrence stood up.
+
+"Will you? That still remains to be seen. Shoot him, Baron!"
+
+The Baron fired. Either his marksmanship, or his nerve, or his
+something, was at fault, for he missed. Before he could fire again
+Paxton's weapon had crashed through his grotesquely tall high hat, and
+apparently through his skull as well, for he too went headlong to the
+floor. Quick as lightning as he fell Cyril took his revolver from his
+nerveless grasp. Lawrence and his two colleagues were--a little late
+in the day, perhaps--making for him. But when they saw how he was
+doubly armed and his determined front they paused--and therein showed
+discretion.
+
+The tables had turned. The fortune of war had gone over to what
+hitherto had been distinctly the losing side. So at least Paxton
+appeared to think.
+
+"Now, the question is, what shall I do with you? Shall I shoot all
+three of you--or shall I brain one of you with this pretty little
+play-thing, which I have literally snatched from the burning?"
+
+If one could draw deductions from the manner in which he bore himself,
+Lawrence never for an instant lost his presence of mind. When he spoke
+it was in the easy, quiet tones which he had used throughout.
+
+"You move too fast, forgetting two things--one, that you are caught
+here like a rat in a trap, so that, unless we choose to let you, you
+cannot get out of this place alive; the other, that I have only to
+summon assistance to overwhelm you with the mere force of numbers."
+
+"Then why don't you summon assistance, if you are so sure that it will
+come at your bidding?"
+
+"I intend to summon assistance when I choose."
+
+"I give you warning that, if you move so much as a muscle in an
+attempt to attract the attention of any other of your associates who
+may be about the place, I will shoot you!"
+
+For answer Lawrence smiled. Suddenly, lifting his hand, he put two
+fingers to his lips and blew a loud, shrill, peculiar whistle.
+Simultaneously Paxton raised the revolver, and, pointing it straight
+at the other's head, he pulled the trigger.
+
+And that was all. No result ensued. There was the sound of a
+click--and nothing more. His face darkened. A second time he pulled
+the trigger; again without result. Mr. Lawrence's smile became more
+pronounced. His tone was one of gentle badinage.
+
+"I thought so. You see, you will move too quickly. It is a
+six-chambered revolver. I was aware that my highly esteemed friend had
+discharged two barrels earlier in the evening, and had not reloaded. I
+knew that he had taken two, if not three, little pops at you, and had
+had another little pop just now. If, therefore, he had not recharged
+in my absence the barrels I had seen him empty, and had taken, before
+I interrupted him, three little pops at you, the revolver must be
+empty. I thought the risk worth taking, and I took it."
+
+While Cyril seemed to hesitate as to what to do next, Lawrence,
+raising his fingers to his lips, blew another cat-call.
+
+While the shrill discord still travelled through the air, Paxton
+sprang towards him. Stepping back, the whistler, picking up the wooden
+chair on which he had been sitting, dashed it in his assailant's face.
+And at the same moment the two men who had hitherto remained passive
+spectators of what had been, practically, an impromptu if abortive
+duel, closed in on Paxton from either side.
+
+He struck at one with his clubbed revolver. The other, getting his arm
+about his throat, dragged him backwards on to the floor. He was down,
+however, only for a second. Slipping from the fellow's grasp like an
+eel, he was up again in time to meet the renewed attack from the man
+whom he had already struck with his revolver. He struck at him again;
+but still the man was not disabled.
+
+Meanwhile, his more prudent companion, conducting his operations from
+the rear, again got his arms about Paxton. The three went in a heap
+together on the floor.
+
+Just then the door was opened and some one entered on the scene.
+Paxton did not stop to see who it was. Exercising what seemed to be a
+giant's strength, he succeeded in again freeing himself from the grasp
+of his two opponents. Leaping to his feet, he made a mad dash at
+Lawrence. That gentleman, springing nimbly aside, eluded the
+threatening blow from the clubbed revolver, delivered neatly enough a
+blow with his clenched fist full in Mr. Paxton's face. The blow was a
+telling one. Mr. Paxton staggered; then, just as he seemed about to
+fall, recovered himself, and struck again at Mr. Lawrence. This time
+the blow went home. The butt of the revolver came down upon the
+other's head with a sickening thud. The stricken man flung up his
+arms, and, without a sound, collapsed in an invertebrate heap.
+
+The whole place became filled with confusion and shouts.
+
+With what seemed to be a sudden inspiration, swinging right round,
+with the branding-iron, which he had managed to retain in his
+possession, Paxton struck at the hanging lamp, which was suspended
+from the ceiling. In a moment the atmosphere began to be choked by the
+suffocating fumes of burning oil. A sheet of fire was running across
+the floor. Heedless of all else, Paxton rushed towards the door.
+
+Such was the confusion occasioned by the disappearance of the lamp,
+and by the appearance of the flames, that his frantic flight seemed
+for the moment to be unnoticed. He tore through the door, up a narrow
+flight of steps rising between two walls, which he found in front of
+him, only, however, to find an individual awaiting his arrival at the
+top. This individual was evidently one who deemed that there are cases
+in which discretion is the better part of valour, and that the present
+case was one of them. When Paxton appeared, instead of trying to
+arrest his progress, he moved hastily aside, evincing, indeed, a
+conspicuous unwillingness to offer him any impediment in his wild
+career. Paxton passed him. There was a door in front of him. In his
+mad haste, throwing it open, he went through it. In an instant it was
+banged behind him; he heard the sound of a bolt being shot home into
+its socket, and of a voice exclaiming with a chuckle--on the other
+side of the door!--
+
+"Couldn't have done it better if I'd tried, I couldn't! Locked hisself
+in--straight he has!"
+
+Too late Paxton learned that, to all intents and purposes, that was
+exactly what he had done.
+
+The place in which he found himself was pitchy dark. He had supposed
+that it might be a passage leading to a door beyond. It proved
+to be nothing of the kind. It seemed, instead, to be some sort of
+cupboard--probably a pantry--for he could feel that there were shelves
+on either side of him, and that on the shelves were what seemed to be
+victuals. Though narrow, by stretching out his arms he could feel the
+wall with either hand; it extended, longitudinally, to some
+considerable distance--possibly to twenty feet. At the further end
+there was a window. It was at an inconvenient height from the floor,
+and directly under it was a shelf. On this shelf, so far as he was
+able to judge, was an indiscriminate collection of pieces of crockery.
+The shelf, however, was a broad one, and, disregarding the various
+impedimenta with which it seemed to be covered, by clambering on to it
+he was brought within easy reach of the window. It was a small one,
+and had two sashes. Had the sashes not been there, there might have
+been sufficient space to enable him to thrust his body through the
+frame. They were of the ordinary kind, moving up and down, and, in
+consequence, when they were open to their widest extent, only half the
+window space was available either for ingress or for egress.
+
+He did throw up the lower sash as far as it would go, only to discover
+that it scarcely gave him room enough to put the whole of his head
+outside. Taking firm hold of the framework, he tested its solidity; it
+appeared to be substantially constructed of some kind of heavy wood.
+Though he exerted considerable force, it could hardly be induced to
+rattle. To remove it, even if it was removable, would be a work of
+time and of labour. Time he had not at his command. Although he was
+fastened in, his assailants were not fastened out. At any moment they
+might enter; his struggles--against such odds!--would have to be
+recommenced all over again.
+
+He was conscious that the best of his strength was spent. He was stiff
+and sore, weary and bewildered. Nor had he escaped uninjured. He was
+covered with bruises--bruises which ached. Where the red-hot
+branding-iron, slipping from Mr. Skittles' grasp, had struck against
+his wrists, the flesh felt as if it had been burnt to the bone; it
+occasioned him exquisite pain. No, in his present plight, recapture
+would be easy. After the recent transactions, in which he had played
+so prominent a figure, recapture would mean nameless tortures, if not
+death outright. His only hope lay in flight, or--the thought came to
+him as he was endeavouring to marshal his faculties in sufficient
+order to enable him to take an impartial view of his position--in
+summoning help.
+
+Summoning help? Yes! why not? The thing was feasible. Here was the
+open window. He could call through it. His cries might be heard, and
+if he could only make his shouts heard by some one without the alarm
+would be raised, and he would soon be rescued from this den of
+thieves.
+
+Thrusting his head out as far as possible, he shouted, with might and
+with main--"Help! Murder! Help!"
+
+He listened. He seemed to hear the faint echo of his own words
+travelling mockingly, mournfully, through the silent air. Naught else
+was audible. All else was still as the grave.
+
+Nor did the prospect of his being able to make himself heard seem
+promising.
+
+He had no notion whereabouts the house in which he was so unwilling a
+guest was situated. In front of him he could see nothing but open
+space. There was neither moon nor stars, nor was the atmosphere
+particularly clear; yet, as his eyes grew more accustomed to the
+darkness, it seemed to him that he could see for miles, and that there
+was nothing to be seen. There was not a light in sight; no glare of
+lights upon the distant sky; the shadow neither of a house nor of a
+tree. No murmur of voices; no hum of far-off traffic; not even the
+unceasing turmoil of the restless sea.
+
+Since, so far as he was able to perceive, the place seemed to be given
+up to such utter and entire solitude, it struck him with unpleasant
+force that it might be located in the very heart of the open Downs. In
+that case it was quite upon the cards that there was not another human
+habitation within miles. At night--even yet!--few places are more
+deserted than the Brighton Downs. All sorts of deeds without a name,
+so far as human witnesses are concerned, can be wrought thereon with
+complete impunity.
+
+If the house was really built upon the Downs, his chances of making
+himself heard were remote indeed. Still, in his desperate position, he
+was not disposed to give up hope without making at least another
+trial. Once more he shouted "Help! Murder! Help!"
+
+Again he listened. And this time, from what evidently was a
+considerable distance, there was borne through the night what seemed
+to be an answering call--"Hollo!"
+
+Seldom was so slight a sound so grateful to a listener's ears!
+
+With renewed ardour he repeated his shouts, with, if possible, even
+greater vigour than before: "Quick! Help! Murder! Help!"
+
+Again, from afar, there seemed to come the faint response--"Hollo!"
+
+And at the same instant he became conscious of voices speaking
+together outside the door of the cul-de-sac in which, foolishly
+enough, he had allowed himself to be made, for a second time, a
+prisoner.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVII
+
+                    THE MOST DANGEROUS FOR OF ALL
+
+
+Mr. Paxton withdrew his face from the window. He turned towards the
+door, his ears wide open. The speakers were talking so loudly that he
+could hear distinctly, without moving from his post of vantage on the
+shelf, every word which was uttered. They seemed to be in a state of
+great excitement.
+
+The first voice he heard belonged evidently to the quick-witted
+individual who had fastened him in the trap which he himself had
+entered.
+
+"There he is--inside there he is--ran in of his own accord he did, so
+I shut the door, and I slipped the bolt before he knowed where he was.
+The winder's only a little 'un--if he gets hisself out, you can call
+me names."
+
+The second voice was one which Mr. Paxton did not remember to have
+previously noticed.
+
+"Blast him!--what do I care where he is? He ain't no affair of mine!
+There's the Toff, and a crowd of 'em down there--you come and lend a
+hand!"
+
+"Not me! I ain't a-taking any! I ain't going to get myself choked, not
+for no Toff, nor yet for any one else. I feel more like cutting my
+lucky--only I don't know my way across these ---- hills."
+
+"You ain't got no more pluck than a chicken. Go and put the 'orse in!
+Me and them other two chaps will bring 'em up. We shall have to put
+the whole lot aboard, and make tracks as fast as the old mare will
+canter."
+
+A third voice became audible--a curiously husky one, as if its owner
+was in difficulties with his throat.
+
+"Here's the Toff--he seems to be a case. I ain't a-going down no more.
+It's no good a-trying to put it out--you might as well try to put out
+'ell fire!"
+
+Then a fourth voice--even huskier than the other.
+
+"Catch 'old! If some one don't catch 'old of the Baron I shall drop
+'im. My God! this is a pretty sort of go!"
+
+There was a pause, then the voice of the first speaker again.
+
+"He do look bad, the Baron do--worse nor the Toff, and he don't seem
+too skittish!"
+
+"Strikes me he ain't far off from a coffin and a six-foot 'ole. You
+wouldn't look lively if you'd had what he 'as. That there ---- brained
+'im, and now he's been burned alive. I tell you what it is, we shall
+have to look slippy if we want to get ourselves well out of this. Them
+others will have to scorch--it's no good trying to get 'em out--no
+mortal creature could live down there--it'll only be a bit sooner,
+anyhow. The whole ---- place is like a ---- tinder-box. It'll all be
+afire in less than no time, and it'll make a bonfire as'll be seen
+over all the countryside; and if we was seen a-making tracks away from
+it, there might be questions asked, and we mightn't find that pretty!"
+
+"Where's the ---- as done it all?"
+
+"In there--that's where he is!"
+
+"In there? Sure? My----! wouldn't I like to strip his skin from off
+his ---- carcase!"
+
+"He'll have his skin stripped off from him without your doing nothing,
+don't you be afraid--and made crackling of! He'll never get outside of
+that--he'll soon be warm enough--burnt to a cinder, that's what he'll
+be!"
+
+Suddenly there was a tumult of exclamations and of execrations, sound
+of the opening of a door, and of a general stampede. Then silence.
+
+And Mr. Paxton realised to the full what had happened. For into the
+place of his imprisonment there penetrated, all at once, the fumes of
+smoke--fumes which had an unpleasantly irritating effect upon the
+tonsils of his throat.
+
+The house was on fire! The hanging-lamp which he had sent crashing to
+the floor had done its work--had, indeed, plainly, done more than he
+intended. Nothing so difficult to extinguish as the flames of burning
+oil. Nothing which gets faster, fiercer, more rapidly increasing
+hold--nothing which, in an incredibly short space of time, causes more
+widespread devastation.
+
+The house was on fire! and he was caged there like a rat in a trap!
+The smoke already reached him--already the smell of the fire was in
+his nostrils. And those curs, those cowards, those nameless brutes,
+thinking only of their wretched selves, had left their comrades in
+that flaming, fiery furnace, to perish by the most hideous of deaths,
+and had left him, also, there to burn.
+
+In a sudden paroxysm of rage, leaping off the shelf, he rushed to the
+opposite end of what, it seemed, bade fair to be his crematorium, and
+flung himself with all his weight and force against the door. It never
+yielded--he might as well have flung himself against the wall. He
+shouted through it, like a madman--
+
+"Open the door! Open the door, you devils!"
+
+In his frenzy a stream of oaths came flooding from his lips. In such
+situations even clean-mouthed men can swear. There are not many of us
+who, brought suddenly, under such circumstances, face to face with the
+hereafter, can calm our minds and keep watch and ward over our
+tongues. Mr. Paxton, certainly, was not such an one. He was, rather,
+as one who was consumed with fury.
+
+What was that? He listened. It was the sound of wheels and of a
+horse's hoofs. Those scoundrels were off--fleeing for their lives. And
+he was there--alone! And in the dreadful furnace, at the bottom of
+that narrow flight of steps, the miserable creatures with whom he had
+had such a short and sharp reckoning were being burned.
+
+In his narrow chamber the presence of smoke was becoming more
+conspicuous. He could hear the crackling of fire. It might have been
+imagination, but it seemed to him that already the temperature was
+increasing. What was he to do? He recollected the window--clambered
+back upon the shelf, and thrust his face out into the open air. How
+sweet it was! and fresh, and cool! Once more he listened. He could
+hear, plainly enough, the noise of wheels rolling rapidly away, but
+nothing more. With the full force of his lungs he repeated his
+previous cry, with a slight variation--
+
+"Help! Fire! Help!"
+
+But this time there came no answering "Hollo!" There was no reply.
+Again he shouted, and again and again, straining his throat and his
+lungs to bursting-point, screaming himself hoarse, but there was none
+that answered. It seemed that this was a case in which, if he could
+not help himself, he, in very deed and in very truth, was helpless.
+
+He set himself to remove the sashes from their places, feeling that if
+he only could, small even then though the space would be, he might, at
+such a pinch as this, be able to squeeze his body through. But the
+thing was easier essayed than done. The sashes were small, strongly
+constructed, and solidly set in firmly fashioned grooves. He attacked
+them with his hands; he hammered them with the Baron's revolver and
+the branding-iron, but they remained precisely where they were. He had
+a suspicion that they were looser, and that in time, say in an hour or
+so, they might be freed. But he had not an hour to spare. He had not
+many minutes, for while he still wrestled with their obstinacy there
+came from behind him a strange, portentous roar. His prison became
+dimly, fitfully illuminated with a dreadful light--so that he could
+see.
+
+What he could see through the cracks in the bolted door were tongues
+of fire, roaring in the room beyond--roaring as the waves roar over
+the stones, or as the sound of a high wind through the tops of trees.
+The suddenness of the noise, disturbing so unexpectedly the previous
+stillness, confused him. He remained on the shelf, looking round.
+Then, oblivious for the moment of the danger which so swiftly was
+coming nearer, he was filled with admiration. What a beautiful ruddy
+light it was, which was making the adjacent chamber to gleam like
+glowing gold! How every instant it was becoming ruddier and ruddier,
+until, with fairylike rapidity, it became a glorious blaze of colour!
+The whole place was transfigured and transformed. It was radiant with
+the splendours of the Fairy Queen's Palace of a Million Marvels.
+
+The crackling noise which fire makes when its hungry tongues lick
+woodwork brought him back to a sense of stern reality. He became
+conscious of the strong breeze which was blowing through the open
+window. It was coming from the house, and was bearing with it
+a rush as of heated breath. Already it seemed to scorch his
+cheeks--momentarily it seemed to scorch them more and more. The air,
+as he drew it into his lungs, was curiously dry. He had to draw two
+breaths where before he had drawn one. It parched his throat. What
+would he not have given to have been able to glue his lips to cool,
+fresh water! As in a vision he pictured himself laving his face,
+splashing in the crystal waters of a running stream, with the trees in
+leaf above his head.
+
+Escape was hopeless. Neither on the one side nor on the other could
+salvation be attained. Other men, he told himself, with a sardonic
+twitching of the corners of his lips, had been burnt alive before
+to-day--then why not he? He, at any rate, could play the man. To
+attempt to strive against the inevitable was puerile. Better, if one
+must die, "facing fearful odds," to die with one's arms folded, and
+with one's pulse marking time at its normal pace. What must be, might
+be; what cared he?
+
+Confound the smoke! It came in thicker and thicker wreaths through the
+interstices in the panels of the door. It was impossible to continue
+facing it; it made him cough, and the more he coughed the more he had
+to. It got into his mouth and up his nose; it made his eyes tingle. To
+cough and cough until, like a ramshackle cart, one shook oneself to
+pieces, was not the part of dignity.
+
+He turned his back to the door. He thrust his face again through the
+window. With his lips wide open he gulped in the air with a sense of
+rapture which amounted to positive pain. What a feeling of life and of
+freedom there seemed to be under the stars and the far-reaching sky!
+What a spirit of solitude was abroad on the hills, in the darkness of
+the night! What a lonely death this was which he was about to die! No
+one there but God and the fire to see if he died like a man!
+
+He tried to collect his thoughts. As he did so, there was borne to
+him, on a sudden overwhelming flood of recollection, the woman whom he
+loved. He seemed to see her there in front of him--her very face. What
+was she doing now? What would she do if she had an inkling of his
+plight? What, when she knew that he had gone? If he had only had time
+to hand over to her all the fruits of that rise in the shares of the
+Trumpit Gold Mine!
+
+How hot it was! And the smoke--how suffocating! How the fire roared
+behind him! The bolted door had been stout enough to keep him captive,
+but against the fury of the flames it would be as nothing. Any moment
+they might be through. And then?
+
+He had an inspiration. He began to feel in his pockets. Those rogues
+had stripped them, only leaving, so far as in his haste he could
+judge, two worthless trifles, which probably had been overlooked
+because of their triviality. In one pocket was the back of an old
+letter, in another a scrap of pencil. They were sufficient to serve
+his purpose. Spreading the half-sheet of notepaper out on the shelf in
+front of him, he wrote, as well as he could for the blinding, stifling
+smoke, with the piece of pencil--
+
+"I give and bequeath all that I have in the world to my dear love,
+Daisy Strong, who would have been my wife. God bless her!--CYRIL
+PAXTON."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XVIII
+
+                   THE LAST OF THE DATCHET DIAMONDS
+
+
+They found him, with the half-sheet of notepaper all crushed in his
+hand.
+
+At the police station, acting on the hints dropped by Mr. Cooper, Mr.
+Ireland had enlisted the aid of a dozen constables. He had chartered a
+large waggonette, and with Mr. Cooper and a sergeant beside him on the
+box-seat had started off for an evening drive across the Downs. Miss
+Strong had, perforce, to content herself with a seat with Miss
+Wentworth and Mr. Franklyn in a fly behind.
+
+The weather had cleared. By the time they reached the open country the
+stars were shining, and when they found themselves following the
+winding road among the hills it was as fine a night as one could wish.
+Suddenly the occupants of the fly became conscious that the waggonette
+in front had stopped. A constable, hurrying back, checked the flyman.
+Miss Strong leant over the side of the vehicle to address him.
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+"We don't know yet, miss. Only there's something coming along the
+road, and we want to see what they look like. They seem to be in a bit
+of a hurry."
+
+As the man said, whoever it was who was approaching did seem to be in
+a "bit of a hurry." Evidently the horse in the advancing vehicle was
+being urged to a breakneck gallop. Where the waggonette had stopped
+the ground rose abruptly on either side. The road turned sharply just
+in front. The constables, alighting, formed in double line across it.
+Suddenly the people who were hastening Brightonwards found themselves
+quite unexpectedly surrounded by the officers of the law. There was
+the liveliest five minutes Miss Strong had ever known. At the end of
+it the police found themselves in possession of three prisoners, who
+had fought as well as, under the circumstances, they knew how, and
+also of a fly with two men lying apparently dead inside it.
+
+When Miss Strong learnt this, she came hurrying up.
+
+"Is Cyril there?"
+
+Mr. Ireland shook his head.
+
+"You are telling me the truth?"
+
+"If you doubt it, Miss Strong, you may look for yourself."
+
+Just then a constable who, for purposes of observation, had climbed
+the sloping ground on one side of the road, gave a great shout.
+
+"Fire! There's a house on fire on the hills!"
+
+Mr. Cooper, who, while his former friends were being captured, had,
+much against his will, been handcuffed to a policeman, called to Mr.
+Ireland.
+
+"I reckon it's the crib. They been and set it afire, and left the
+bloke as they calls Paxton to burn inside of it. See if they ain't!"
+
+                          *   *   *   *   *
+
+It was Miss Strong who found him. Running round the burning building,
+she came to a little open window through which a man's hand was
+stretched. The window was too high above the ground to enable her to
+see into it. Only the hand was visible. She thought it belonged to
+some one who was seeking to escape.
+
+"Who are you?" she cried.
+
+None answered. She touched the hand, supposing its owner did not hear.
+As she did so a piece of crumpled paper fell out of it. She caught at
+it as it fluttered through the air; looked at it--there was a
+sufficiency of artificial light to enable her to see--saw her own
+name--"my dear love, Daisy Strong"--staring her in the face; perceived
+that it was in the writing which she knew so well.
+
+"Cyril, Cyril!"
+
+She snatched at the hand which had held that paper--testimony of a
+love which was resolute to live even beyond the grave--sprang up at
+the window, through which the smoke was streaming, with the flames
+beginning to follow after--broke into shrieks. They brought tools, and
+having by their aid removed the sashes, they dragged him by main force
+through the window, through which he himself had vainly endeavoured to
+escape. And slowly, enduring as he went not a little agony, he went
+through the Valley of the Shadow, branching out of it after all
+through a pass which led, not unto Death, but back again to the Plain
+of Life.
+
+When, weeks after, he opened his eyes to consciousness, the first
+thing he saw was, leaning over him, the face of the woman he loved.
+
+"Daisy!"
+
+In an attenuated whisper the name came from his lips. And, forgetting
+herself, she fell on his breast and kissed him, and in the tumult of
+her joy cried as if her heart would break. While still his life was in
+the balance, never once had she lost her self-control, fearing that if
+she did she might be banished from his presence. Now that the event
+seemed clear, the cisterns of her heart were opened, and she wept as
+one distraught.
+
+As the days went by Mr. Paxton understood not only that he was in a
+bedroom in Miss Wentworth's house, but also that in the adjacent
+apartment there was something, or some one, whose presence Miss
+Strong, at any rate, was desirous should be concealed from him. The
+thing becoming more and more conspicuous, Mr. Paxton insisted at last
+on having the mystery explained to him. With flashing eyes and
+faltering lips Miss Strong explained.
+
+In the room adjoining that in which he lay was a policeman. He had
+been there all the time. He intended to remain, at least, as long as
+Mr. Paxton stayed. Mr. Paxton was, in fact, a prisoner--a prisoner in
+Miss Wentworth's house. Since it had seemed likely that he would die,
+the authorities had suffered him to be committed to the hands of
+friends, in order that, if they could, they might nurse him back to
+health and strength. But not for an instant had he been out of
+official supervision. Egress from the sick-chamber was only possible
+by passing through the adjoining room; in that adjoining room a
+policeman had been stationed night and day. Now that he was mending,
+at any moment rough, unfeeling hands might drag him off to gaol.
+
+Miss Strong's manner, as she made the situation clear to Mr. Paxton,
+was reminiscent of the Tragic Muse. Her rage against Mr. Ireland was
+particularly fierce. When she spoke of him it was with clenched fists
+and knitted brows and eyes like flaming coals.
+
+"He actually dares to pretend to think that you had something to do
+with the stealing of the Datchet diamonds."
+
+Mr. Paxton seemed to hesitate; then took her breath away with his
+answer.
+
+"He is right in thinking so; I had."
+
+She was standing at his bedside. When he said that, she looked down at
+him as if she felt either that her ears must be playing her false or
+that he must be still delirious. Yet he seemed to speak rationally,
+and although pale and wan and but the shadow of his old self, he did
+not look as if he were insane.
+
+"Cyril! You don't understand me. I say that he thinks that you had
+something to do with the stealing of the Datchet diamonds--some
+improper connection with the crime, I mean."
+
+"I understand you perfectly well, my dear. I repeat, I had."
+
+She sat down on a chair and gasped.
+
+"You had! Goodness gracious! What?"
+
+"After they had been stolen. The diamonds came into my possession
+owing to an accident."
+
+"Cyril! Whatever did you do with them?"
+
+"They are in my possession now."
+
+"The Datchet diamonds! In your possession! Where?"
+
+Her eyes, opened at their widest, were round as saucers. She was a
+living note of exclamation. Obviously, though he did not seem as
+though he were, she felt that he must be still delirious. He quickly
+made it plain to her, however, that he was nothing of the kind. He
+told her, clearly and succinctly, the whole strange history--nothing
+extenuating, attempting in no whit to whitewash the blackness of his
+own offending--precisely as it all occurred. And when his tale was at
+an end, instead of reproaching him by so much as a look, she kissed
+him, and, pillowing her lovely head upon his undeserving breast,
+anointed him with her tears, as if by what his criminality had cost
+him he had earned for himself a niche in hagiology. Later, he repeated
+the story to Mr. Franklyn and to Mr. Ireland. Neither of them were
+moved to show signs of sympathy. Plainly his friend was of opinion
+that, at the very least, he had played the fool; while the detective,
+whose moral sensibilities had perhaps been dulled by his constant
+contact with crime, seemed to be struck rather by his impudence than
+by anything else.
+
+Mr. Paxton having voluntarily furnished Mr. Ireland with sufficient
+authority to enable him to gain access to the safe which he rented in
+that stronghold in Chancery Lane, the diamonds were found reposing
+securely in its fastnesses, exactly as he had described. Her Grace of
+Datchet's heart was gladdened by the knowledge that her priceless
+treasures would be returned to her in the same condition in which they
+left her. And the thing, being noised abroad, became a nine days'
+wonder.
+
+The law is very beautiful in its tender mercies. The honest man, being
+sick, may die in a ditch, and no one cares. On the ailing criminal are
+lavished all the resources of medical science. Mr. Lawrence and his
+friend the Baron were far too precious in the eyes of the law to be
+allowed to die. It was absolutely indispensable that such unmitigated
+scoundrels should be kept alive. And they were. Although, had not the
+nicest skill been continually at their disposal, they had been dead a
+dozen times. Not only had Mr. Paxton broken both their skulls--well
+broken them too--with a breaking that required not a little mending;
+but, as if that were not enough, they had been nearly incinerated on
+top of it. However, the unremitting attention with which the law
+provided them, because they were such rogues, sufficed to pull them
+through. And at last there came a day on which they were sufficiently
+recovered to permit of their taking their places in the dock in order
+that they might be charged with their offences.
+
+The prisoners who stood before the magistrates, charged with various
+degrees of complicity in the robbery of the Duchess of Datchet's
+diamonds, were, to begin with, six in number. First and foremost was
+Reginald Hargraves, _alias_ Arthur Lawrence, _alias_ "The Toff,"
+_alias_, in all probability, twenty other names. From the beginning to
+the end he bore himself with perfect self-possession, never leading
+any one to suppose, either by look or gesture, that he took any
+particular amount of interest in what was going on. A second was Isaac
+Bergstein, _alias_ "The Baron." His behaviour, especially when the
+chief and most damning testimony was being given against him, was
+certainly not marked by the repose which, if we are to believe the
+poet, is a characteristic of the caste of Vere de Vere. Cyril Paxton
+was a third; while the tail consisted of the three gentlemen who had
+fallen into the hands of the Philistines on the road to Brighton.
+
+Before the case was opened the counsel for the prosecution intimated
+that he proposed to offer no evidence against the defendant, Cyril
+Paxton, but, with the permission of the Bench, would call him as a
+witness for the Crown. The Bench making no objection, Mr. Paxton
+stepped from the dock to the box, his whilom fellow-prisoners
+following him on his passage with what were very far from being looks
+of love.
+
+Mr. William Cooper and Mr. Paxton were the chief witnesses for the
+prosecution. It was they who made the fate of the accused a certainty.
+Mr. Cooper, in particular, had had with them such long and such an
+intimate acquaintance that the light which he was enabled to cast on
+their proceedings was a vivid one. At the same time, beyond all sort
+of doubt, Mr. Paxton's evidence was the sensation of the case. Seldom
+has a more curious story than that which he unfolded been told, even
+in that place in which all the strangest stories have been told, a
+court of justice. He had more than one bad quarter of an hour,
+especially at the hands of cross-examining counsel. But, when he was
+finally allowed to leave the box, it was universally felt that, so far
+as hope of escape for the prisoners was concerned, already the case
+was over. Their defenders would have to work something like a miracle
+if Mr. Paxton's evidence was to be adequately rebutted.
+
+That miracle was never worked. When the matter came before the judge
+at the assizes, his lordship's summing-up was brief and trenchant,
+and, without leaving their places, the jury returned a verdict of
+guilty against the whole of the accused. Mr. Hargraves and Mr.
+Bergstein--who have figured in these pages under other names--was each
+sent to penal servitude for twenty years, their colleagues being
+sentenced to various shorter periods of punishment. Mr. Hargraves--or
+Mr. Lawrence, whichever you please--bowed to the judge with quiet
+courtesy as he received his sentence. Mr. Bergstein, or the "Baron,"
+however, looked as if he felt disposed to signify his sentiments in an
+altogether different fashion.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIX
+
+                           A WOMAN'S LOGIC
+
+
+The boom in the shares of the Trumpit Gold Mine continued long enough
+to enable Mr. Paxton to realise his holding, if not at the top
+price--that had been touched while he had been fighting for his life
+in bed--still for a sum which was large enough to ensure his complete
+comfort, so far as pecuniary troubles were concerned, for the rest of
+his life. It was his final speculation. The ready money which he
+obtained he invested in consols. He lives on the interest, and
+protests that nothing will ever again induce him to gamble in stocks
+and shares. Since a lady who is largely interested in his movements
+has endorsed his promise, it is probable that he will keep his word.
+
+Immediately after the trial Mr. Cyril Paxton and Miss Daisy Strong
+were married quietly at a certain church in Brighton; if you find
+their names upon its register of marriages you will know which church
+it was. In the first flush of his remorse and self-reproach--one
+should always remember that "when the devil was ill, the devil a saint
+would be"--Mr. Paxton declared that his conduct in connection with the
+Datchet diamonds had made him unworthy of an alliance with a decent
+woman. When he said this, urged thereto by his new-born humility and
+sense of shame, Miss Strong's conduct really was outrageous. She
+abused him for calling himself unworthy, asserted that all along she
+had known that, when it came to the marrying-point, he meant to jilt
+her; and that, since her expectations on that subject were now so
+fully realised, to her most desperate undoing, all that there remained
+for her to do was to throw herself into the sea from the end of the
+pier. She vowed that everything had been her fault, exclaiming that if
+she had never fallen away from the high estate which is woman's proper
+appanage, so far as to accept of the shelter of Mr. Lawrence's
+umbrella in that storm upon the Dyke, but suffered herself to be
+drowned and blown to shreds instead, nothing would have happened which
+had happened; and that, therefore, all the evil had been wrought by
+her. Though she had never thought--never for an instant--that he
+would, or could, have been so unforgiving! When she broke into tears,
+affirming that, in the face of his hardheartedness, nothing was left
+to her but death, he succumbed to this latest example of the beautiful
+simplicity of feminine logic, and admitted that he might after all be
+a more desirable _parti_ than he had himself supposed.
+
+"You have passed through the cleansing fires," she murmured, when, her
+reasoning having prevailed, a reconciliation had ensued. "And you have
+issued from them, if possible, truer metal than you went in."
+
+Mr. Paxton felt that that indeed was very possible. He allowed the
+compliment to go unheeded--conscious, no doubt, that it was
+undeserved.
+
+"God grant that I may never again be led into such temptation!"
+
+That was what he said. We, on our part, may hope that his prayer may
+be granted.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Datchet Diamonds, by Richard Marsh
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40353 ***